Thank you. It is important to tell the stories of what happens to athletes and their memorabilia after their career has ended.

As a collector myself (not of sports memborabilia, but more patriotica and political), auctioning off the gold medal by the new owner was probably intended just to recoup a bit more than what was paid. In their defense, they probably didn’t realize just how collectible the medal really was.

Still, a bit of profit sharing by the seller would have been a good thing to do, especially knowing the circumstances of Mark Wells.

Your comment reminded me of another blog I did about the post-careers of NFL football players and the struggles they go through with personal injuries, early dementia from constant bodily contact and at times paralysis in a rather rough spectator sport (search WorthPoint for: Living Glory, Collecting Pain, http://www.worthpoint.com/blog-entry/living-glory-collecting-pain). Sometimes their autograph or personal memorabilia sell well, but they see little of the proceeds themselves. Even the NFL doesn’t seem to take special notice of the toll the sport enacts on its players.

How to combat that? It is important that players in all sports, especially professionals or Olympians, utilize sites like WorthPoint to constantly check on the value of the memorabilia in their sports category to keep up with value and collectibility.

Doing so could help keep their post career collectibles as highly regarded as their career achievements always will be.

Tom Carrier
Worthologist

Mark Wells sold the medal to pay medical bills for a disabling spinal disease. Wells sold his medal for about $28,000 to a buyer or buyers who then re-sold the medal at auction, with a starting bid of $25,000 and an ending bid of $310,700. Do you think they took advantage of Wells? Do you think the ultimate buyer could maybe have found a better use for his money than to possess Wells’ medal while Wells lives in poverty? Or do you think, hey, that’s life, those are the breaks, he had the glory and if he’s now impoverished, well, good thing there’s someone out there he can sell his medal to? Do you think the potential appreciation in value of the historic medal was “baked” into the price Wells got when he sold? Does the fact his desperate financial and medical straits were also “baked” into that sale price taint the entire series of transactions?

To the original buyer, Wells wrote:

“The gold medal symbolizes my personal accomplishments and our team’s accomplishments being reached. As one of only 20 players to receive this gold medal, it has held a special place in my heart since February of 1980. When I decided recently to offer it out . . . I also decided until the day I give it up, it will be worn. Therefore, I have slept with this medal for the past two weeks now in my home . . . I hope you will cherish this medal as I have.”

From the Daily News article, November 25, 2010, one of many, many reports online of what happened to Wells:

http://articles.nydailynews.com/2010-11-25/sports/27082366_1_miracle-worker-kids-mike-eruzione

BY WAYNE COFFEY
DAILY NEWS SPORTS WRITER
Thursday, November 25, 2010

“His baby boy is healthy and his painkillers are helping and that makes this a pretty good day in the difficult life of Mark Wells. He makes his way stiffly along the outside of the sideboards at the Westchester Skating Academy in Elmsford, N.Y., the icy air bracing against his face.

. . . Wells keeps walking and passes a procession of gear-toting kids and mothers and fathers, none of them aware that the blocky, brown-haired man who had just gone by was once a miracle worker, a stout, swift-skating centerman, a kid from Bowling Green who was the 20th and last player selected by Herb Brooks for the team that would beat the Soviets and win the gold medal in Lake Placid 30 years ago.

Nor do they know anything of the full, pain-filled arc of Mark Wells’ story, of his five back surgeries and hundreds of thousands in medical bills, or his thoughts of suicide, or of the desperate, destitute straits that moved him to do the unthinkable and sell his 1980 Olympic gold medal.

. . . Just a few weeks ago, Mark Wells’ medal sold again at auction. It commanded $310,700 for Heritage Auctions, or roughly $270,000 more than Wells got when he let it go to a private collector some eight years ago, a decision that still haunts him.

“It killed me to sell the medal. Killed me,” Wells says, his voice breaking. “But my life was crumbling. I was going to lose my home. I needed to sell it to have surgery and to live. I had no choice.” He pauses and wipes his eyes.

“The medal was a reward – a medal of honor, but really, it’s just a commodity. The memories are what’s most important. They can’t be bought. They can’t be sold. They will always be there and no amount of money can change that.”

. . .

Operation No. 6 – on his neck – is scheduled for early next year and Wells is optimistic it’s going to further improve his condition. . . .

But three decades after Lake Placid, Mark Wells’ greatest source of strength by far is Mark Wells Jr. For years Wells wasn’t sure he would be able to father a child. Now that he has (Wells is not married to the baby’s mother and declines to disclose her name), he can barely fathom the joy it has brought him.

“Every day I wake up and look at this beautiful child and feel inspired,” Wells says. “He has given me courage, a new beginning, a turning point. I don’t care who you are – whether you are an athlete or a writer or a CEO – you need something to inspire you. With all the struggles and trials and tribulations I’ve had, this baby is my inspiration to go out and further my capabilities and share my true life experiences.”

Mark Wells and his baby boy are spending Thanksgiving at Mark’s brother’s house in Troy, Mich. Mark Jr. will be playing with his new favorite toy – his first hockey stick.

“You should see him . . . he loves it,” Wells says. As he talks, Mark Wells heads out of the rink at the Westchester Skating Academy and pulls out his cell phone. He punches up a picture and there is an image of Mark Jr., tiny stick in his hands, looking ready for a faceoff. Mark Wells gazes at the photo and smiles and in that moment, he isn’t thinking of all of his hardship and pain, or the Olympic gold medal he doesn’t have anymore.

He’s thinking only of his son.

“My only regret is that I don’t have that medal to give to my son – to hand it to him and say, ‘This is for you,’ ” Mark Wells says.