At the center of the trading card boom is a minor irony that no one in the industry seems to discuss much. Some of the card players who earn the most money have never watched the games they play. They have no idea who is attractive in the AFC South. They were unable to identify a starting rotation. The difference between the price of a sealed Costco football box on a Tuesday afternoon and what viewers of a livestream will pay for it by Tuesday night is what they are obsessed with.
Among them is Steven Forrest. He co-owns Bull Island Breaks with his twelve-year-old son Madden, and the way he narrates the story’s beginnings has the informal tone of someone who is still in shock that it was successful. When they first started, they didn’t even have a Costco membership. Ten boxes were taken off the shelf for them by a friend. A thousand dollars or so. By the afternoon, it was sold out. They repeated it at Sam’s Club with a $500 set a few weeks later, and the pattern persisted.
| Profile | Details |
|---|---|
| Name | Steven Forrest (with son Madden, 12) |
| Business | Bull Island Breaks |
| Industry | Sports & collectible trading cards |
| Founded | October 2024 |
| Starting capital | Roughly $500 |
| Monthly revenue (May 2026) | Nearly $50,000 |
| June 2026 target | $65,000 |
| Market context | Global card market valued over $13 billion in 2019, projected $98B by 2027 |
| Primary channel | Live “breaks” streamed on social platforms |
| Notable peers | Josh Luber (Zerocool), Ken Goldin (Goldin Auctions) |
You can practically visualize the scene. Somewhere in a garage, a phone is supported by a tripod, and a child wearing a hoodie is taking cards out of foil packs while strangers on the internet pay real money to watch. It sounds ridiculous until you consider that last year, eBay reportedly sold over ten billion dollars worth of collectibles, with cards accounting for the majority of that growth. The business model is ridiculous.
The industry as a whole has been going through an odd second adolescence. The category collapsed due to its own oversupply following the late 1980s bubble, and it remained stagnant for twenty years. Then the pandemic struck, people started searching for their childhood shoeboxes, and some cards’ prices began to resemble cryptocurrency charts rather than collectibles. The price of a 1952 Mantle is almost three million dollars. A rookie Steph Curry made $5.9 million. The market might be overheating. We might still be early, too.
Operators like Forrest are intriguing because of their disengagement from the sport. The card is a product. A supply curve is the print run. A catalyst is the player’s recent performance. Ken Goldin, who developed Goldin Auctions into a half-billion-dollar marketplace, has publicly stated that seeing every transaction in every category in real time is what gives him an advantage over fandom. Forrest’s edge rhymes, but it’s smaller and more regional. Before the buyers themselves become aware of the trend, he observes what is selling on the streams.
Observing this develop gives the impression that the pastime has split in two. The father showing his child a rookie Junior Griffey is still nostalgic. The other half is more akin to a basement-based commodities desk. Forrest appears at ease in both. The cards are his son’s favorite. He adores the spread.
Another question is whether the margins hold. The Costco exclusivity trick won’t last forever, grading turnaround times have a way of eating profit, and new competitors are pouring in. However, for a product that neither of them needs to watch anyone play, a father and a twelve-year-old are currently clearing more in a month than most people do in a quarter.
