When he saw a mother had posted a picture of her wheelchair-bound, 19-year-old son on social media, explaining he enjoys receiving mail — particularly “shiny cards” — Eric Hecker reached out and asked for the young man's address.
Hecker sent some cards that same day and posted on Twitter, asking the collecting community to do the same.
A week later, he got a message from the mother. “Today, he got over 50 packages,” she wrote to him. “I’ve never seen him smile like this before.”
In a nutshell, that has become Hecker’s M.O. — a sort of fairy godfather of the hobby.
Wading through the dollar signs, haggling and price stickers populating The National Sports Collectors Convention in Cleveland, Hecker marched through the I-X Center to the beat of his own drum, dozens of silver pre-packed envelopes in hand. Rather than selling to the highest bidder, he was gifting them to the most deserving attendees.
His goal? Spreading positivity.
Minutes prior to meeting with cllct in the lower-level of the convention center for our interview, Hecker had run into a family in the lobby — decked out in Notre Dame gear. It was their first day there, and Hecker greeted them with free cards.
Hecker’s journey into the hobby is a familiar one. Born in 1982, he fell in love with cards as a kid. Into his teenage years, his parents would build every single Topps set for him.
A big Cleveland sports fan — having grown up in Massillon, Ohio, (about 50 miles south of Cleveland) — one of Hecker’s favorite players was Kenny Lofton. He even traded a Ken Griffey Jr. 1989 Upper Deck rookie card for a collection of Lofton cards. Probably a bad trade on paper, but that was not his concern; it was about collecting his idols — not finding the most valuable card.
Like many others, he drifted away from the hobby as he entered his 20s and went to college, though it never quite left his mind.
After learning about “this little thing called eBay,” Hecker was slowly dragged back into the memorabilia world. By the time the COVID boom came around, he was all the way back — entering breaks as an outlet during those difficult times.
“That’s when I realized there’s a greater community of folks out there,” Hecker told cllct. “I’ve been hooked ever since.”
While participating in a break one day, Hecker saw the term “RAK” in a YouTube live chat. He had no idea what it meant.
“I was so naive. I'm like, ‘what is this?,’ but I don't want to ask anybody because I don't want to look stupid,” he said.
Soon, Hecker realized it was an acronym for Random Act of Kindness. Not long after, an unexpected package arrived at his door. Inside was a Jose Ramirez autographed bat. He texted Mindy, one of the owners of Rip and Gypsy, a breaking company he frequented, letting her know she had sent the bat to the wrong person.
“No, this person wanted you to have it because they know you're a Guardians fan,” she replied.
Hecker was thrilled. He knew who sent it to him and reached out to express his gratitude. They were just as excited as he was.
“A light kind of went off,” Hecker said.
It was around the same time in 2020 when videos surfaced of grown men rushing the Walmart aisles and knocking each other over to grab new card products off the shelf. Seeing that toxicity, Hecker knew there was a better way.
The hashtag #RakoftheDay was born on Jan. 1, 2021. The plan was to send a RAK — a package of cards or memorabilia — to a random person selected by submission via twitter.
“It's going to be the community at large on Twitter suggesting who should get something,” Hecker recalled. “And so they tell a story about the person and why they deserve it. Maybe they received something from them, maybe this person is going through a hard time, whatever the case may be.”
It caught on fast. Hecker was excited and planned the first 10 days. By day six or seven, he realized: “There’s 350 some odd days left this year,” Hecker recalled. “Can I really do this?”
Around the 10th day, Buck City Breaks, a group of collectors from Columbus, Ohio, who Hecker had become good friends with, reached out, telling him they loved what he was doing and sent him $200 to fund more cards for the RAKs.
For Hecker’s project, that $200 can go a long way. He’s not sending $10,000 cards in the mail. The contents of each RAK are generally lower-priced, but highly curated to meet the fandom and collecting interests of the recipient.
“It’s about the recognition piece,” Hecker said.
By the end of the month, Hecker had an influx of people on social media reaching out, asking if they could get involved. They wanted to give a RAK themselves. Suddenly, this project seemed sustainable — no longer solely on his shoulders.
“Oh, wait, if I bring other people in this, I don't have to do every single day,” Hecker said.
These days, Hecker, who hasn’t missed a single day in over three years, has around 15 “RAK Ambassadors.” Each take a day every month, selecting the recipient and sourcing the RAK on their own.
But Hecker wasn’t satisfied. In 2022, he started running a charitable arm to the program, raising money for a different charity every month. So far, they’ve raised almost $50,000 for various charities.
“We want the hobby to be recognized for what kind of joy it can bring to people's lives,” Hecker said. “Instead of hearing those negative stories all the time.”
As Hecker walked through The National, gifting his RAKs in-person (he made 250 packs in total, each with a minimum of four cards and randomly inserted “hits”), he heard people from all over the country calling his name, recognizing him from his charitable work on Twitter.
Though he didn’t quite admit it, that might be part of his recognition — the same feeling he hopes to bring to RAK participants.
Those RAKs — made specifically for The National — cost Hecker exactly $10. That was just for a shipping fee. He received 1,500 cards from more than 20 people and companies around the hobby in anticipation of those RAKs, which he had done the previous two years at the show.
Hecker’s original idea, which felt so daunting once upon a time, has grown into a staple of the community. He’s even looking to incorporate RAK of the Day into a charity. “Never in my wildest dreams did I think that we'd be here.”
Unsurprisingly, this isn’t the only charitable endeavor of Hecker’s, as his full-time job is as the Executive Director for a chapter of the Crohn's and Colitis Foundation. Even before RAK of the Day, he pioneered “Ripping for the Cure” during COVID as a way to supplement fundraising. The organization has raised more than $100,000 in five years.
Hecker’s roots as a fundraiser have made him the perfect spearhead for RAK of the Day, as his know-how and desire to work for the greater good is baked into his DNA.
The parallels are undeniable. As a fundraiser, he needs to speak to donors about the science and context surrounding the chronic illnesses with a level of knowledge and fluency capable of encouraging generosity. With his initiatives in the hobby, it’s the same thing — just with cardboard rather than colons.
Though professionalizing the hobby giveaways into a charity and eventually making it a full-time job is certainly the goal, Hecker is comfortable knowing that if he never grows RAK of the Day beyond its current scope, it’s still making an impact.
“We're still bringing new people into the community and helping other folks out,” Hecker said. “And so every single day is just a success with that. And I can't ask for anything more.”
Will Stern is a reporter and editor for cllct.