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The Wall Street Journal has confirmed what we all pretty much suspected: any sports cards bought over the past 30 years are virtually worthless.

In 2000, Mr. Christensen died suddenly at age 28. Today, the cards sit in a storage unit and his mother must decide their fate. She has no idea how many cards are in the collection or whose faces appear on them. Maybe they’re worth a lot of money. Maybe not.

“I don’t know what they’re worth, so I don’t want to start giving them away,” says his mother, Carol White. “I don’t want them to sit in storage,” which she notes is not climate controlled. “I don’t have any grandchildren. He didn’t have a family, so I might as well sell them.”

It’s not uncommon for sports collectibles to fall into the hands of a non-collector through death, divorce or debt. Then what?

“What people need to understand is that the price guides list the retail price, and the amount a dealer would pay would be much smaller,” Mr. O’Connell says. For vintage cards — those from before 1980 — a dealer might pay between 50% to 60% of the retail value. Newer cards may only command 5% of the retail price. That’s not necessarily because the dealers are dishonest, Mr. O’Connell notes, it’s just how they make a profit.

With only vague descriptions and few details, Mr. O’Connell could not even guess whether Mr. Christensen’s collection carries much value. But 1972, his birth year, suggests that many of the cards are relatively new. “So the values for cards that you saw in the ’50s, ’60s and ’70s you won’t get here,” Mr. O’Connell says.

Case in point, when I was twelve years old, I pulled a Cal Ripken Jr. insert card worth $1,000 at the time. When I checked the Beckett price guide two years ago—$150! I’ve foolishly kept the card in a safety deposit box over ten years on the advice from the shop owner that the list price would only continue to rise. Well, that’s an 85% loss in value and this decrease is represented in most of my collection, which spans the years 1990-2002.

I specifically remember realizing when sports cards were on their way out. The industry had been suffering for years and companies like Topps, Pinnacle, and Upper Deck were beefing up their packs to try and increase demand. These tactics included more insert cards, pieces of athletes’ uniforms, autographs—I even own a series that includes nothing but coins. Then came Pokemon and Magic, whose cards also doubled as components of a complicated game. This new and very young demographic of nerds and elementary school kids clobbered the sports card industry. While fathers continued to collect, their children were drawn to the allure of fantasy cards.

I always kid with my dad about how his card collection will bail me out of hard times in the future. In a way, it’s no joke. His collection runs from 1950-1980 and includes such prizes as a complete 1956 Milwaukee Braves Topps set. I have an absurd amount of cards which at one point probably valued about $10,000. Now, the collection probably isn’t worth the cases it’s stored in.

Obviously, collections are only worth the value collectors are willing to place on them. As the number of card aficionados has dwindled over the years, the industry is barley hanging on. However, those cards produced before 1980 are still highly sought out by the old school of collectors. Thus, guys like my dad are sitting on a cardboard gold mine.