How the coronavirus, the internet and tons of money unexpectedly fueled sports cards’ biggest boom

IN AN ANONYMOUS office complex amid the Meadowland sprawl of northern New Jersey, Rick Probstein tears through a standing vault in search of his most prized treasure.

With wire-rim glasses and incandescent red hair, Probstein oversees his dimly lit five-room unit like Richard Branson on “MTV Cribs.” He’s earned it. EBay’s preeminent sports memorabilia proprietor reportedly racked up $50 million in global sales last year.

It’s a month before the coronavirus will upend civilization, and Probstein is in a collector’s paradise: One room spills over with racks of signed jerseys being prepped for shipping; in another, two dozen employees, sardined at workstations, painstakingly monitor auctions; in Probstein’s office, columns of cards on folding tables test gravity with mini helmets littering his desk. Atop the vault sits a Babe Ruth autographed baseball, acknowledged with a halfhearted nod as Probstein rummages below.

Probstein retrieves from the vault plywood-thick cards, autographed and embedded with game-used jersey swatches — one of them, a LeBron-Jordan dual patch autograph, will soon fetch $35,000 — and two graded 1952 Topps Mickey Mantles.

The Mantles are the showstoppers. In 2018, one went for almost $3 million at auction. Two could buy a private island.