Jesse,

Since you’re on the other end of the world defending my freedom (to drink), I want to update you on the current status of craft beverages in our country. It’s time to give a State of Our Union of Craft Beverages.

This time of year is a critical one because many parts of our union take part in something known as “Beer Week”—a week when cities (or regions) encourage breweries and craft beer bars to hold unique events, usually beginning with an “opening ceremony” festival and culminating in one last drunken hurrah, known as Sour Sunday (sour beers…get it?). Some fortunate citizens have the following Presidents’ Day off to rest their liver and slip back into a more sober reality.

These yearly “Beer Weeks” all began as a marketing response to the cyclical lull in business during the preceding month of January. In addition to less than desirable weather and a lack of funds from the holidays, January has become the target of a phenomenon known as “Dry January”. So, in addition to a lack of business from occasional drinkers, those that imbibe more often have begun to take the month off… perhaps to convince themselves that it’ll make up for their consumption the rest of the year. No judgements here, but the craft beer market has successfully exploited these yearly avoidances. And who can blame them? It seems those abstaining can now hop back on the wagon in a blaze of glory. “Drink craft beer for 10 straight days, you say? Why yes, good sir, I think I shall; after all, I just took a whole month off!”

“Is it fanaticism, a social calling, FOMA, or just pathologically unbridled alcoholism disguised as connoisseurship? ”

In addition to unique events, breweries began producing special beers for this event that are made only once a year. These brands gained fanatical attention, as craft beer fans seemed to seek out beer that was purposely produced on a limited scale. One of the most famous examples of this is Russian River Brewing’s Pliny the Younger, a triple IPA that is brewed once a year and sold only on premises for the first two weeks of February. Russian River’s yearly tradition has been ongoing for over 15 years and fans still line up for hours to have a taste. Some people wait in line 8-12 hours (even overnight!) to try it. And while I suppose there’s no right way to be an alcoholic, this strikes me as most definitely the wrong way.

Anyway, I’ve had it several times, and it’s a phenomenal triple IPA. Thousands of people flock there, and the same goes on year-round on the east coast at Treehouse Brewing. Customers wait in line for hours just to take home their coveted cans. Is it fanaticism, a social calling, FOMA, or just pathologically unbridled alcoholism disguised as connoisseurship?

*Customers waiting in long lines at Treehouse Brewing*

I’ve been wondering how we all got here with craft beer. It didn’t happen overnight, but the boom has skyrocketed over the past 10 years. The first contributing factor is the exponential growth of craft breweries in this country. In the last 10 years, the number of breweries has grown from 1,800 to 7,500. The second major factor has been the resurgence of canned beer. The can—once associated with cheap industrial beer—is a more environmentally friendly approach that also keeps beer fresher for longer.

In recent times, the 16 ounce / 4 pack of cans has become the symbol of “high end” beers, often high proof stouts or hazy IPAs, and easily fetching $15-$25. The larger surface area has become a canvas for attractive artwork and cheeky names. Often, the 4 packs are made in “limited edition.” This all contributes to a growing fanatical drive by customers to snatch up new releases. Breweries will often announce on social media when a release is coming, and fans will line up and be ready to fork over their money. This has proven to be a successful marketing ploy and most other breweries are following suit. Many “collect” special releases and even sell or trade them to others doing the same from other parts of the country. It’s gotten to a point where people are not even into drinking the beer, but just showing off their purchases on social media.

So, everybody is making “specialty” beer on a “limited edition” basis and it seems to be enjoyed by customers. But I can’t help to wonder: when will people catch on that none of the beer is actually “limited” by any reality other than marketing? And when will we all have reached our limit of enthusiasm surrounding these products? At some point, it’ll become old hat—an oversaturated market with so many choices that there really isn’t any differentiation.

All this analysis recalls my childhood. As a child of the 80’s, I grew up with a fond fascination for baseball cards. I enjoyed collecting them, trading them, selling them, and learning about the so-called market for them. For most of the 80’s, there were only a handful of card companies. Each made their yearly set of all the players and you did your best to find or buy the most valuable (or those of your favorite players). Most cards were relatively cheap and needed to be—its target demographic was kids! As a collector, you could really get a handle on everything available.

*The 1989 Ken Griffey Jr. rookie card - Upper Deck*

This all changed in 1989 with the release of one particular card: the Upper Deck Ken Griffey, Jr. rookie card. The history behind this tipping point in time had many similarities to that of craft beer. At the time, baseball cards were fairly mundane until a new company, Upper Deck, entered the market with a higher quality / glossy card, with a price tag that was 4 times the standard. The quality was one of the drivers behind the cost, but when the rookie featured on the first card in their 1989 set (i.e., Ken Griffey Jr.) turned out to be a major all-star, the prices soared.

With these factors combined, the market went wild; the card quickly became one of the most sought after, driving prices to well over $100. Suddenly, the worst in human nature and greed quickly took over, because these cards were supposed to be in “limited supply.” You either purchased an entire set, including the card, or randomly received one in small, sealed packs (thought to be very rare to find a Ken Griffey Jr.). That would have been a “fair” market if that idea of supply were true, but collectors from all corners of the country were finding these single cards for purchase. However, just like printing sheets of money, rumors spread that the reason for the increase in Ken Griffey Jr. cards was that Upper Deck was actually printing them in mass quantity, for their own sale to card shops. To this day, Upper Deck has neither confirmed nor denied the rumors.

The sudden change in interest of an item originally collected by kids morphed into an adult driven quasi stock market. Multiple card shops popped up in every town and people (kids AND adults) showed up for new releases and “special” events where sought-after cards were sold. The market turned into a fanatical craze of collecting with the purpose of re-selling in the aftermarket to make a buck, rather than simply partake in the original enjoyment that only kids could understand. Card companies quickly caught on to the craze, and like everything else in American culture, they saturated the market to collect as much money as possible from customers. Soon, the card companies began making several variations of their cards and also created “high-end” sets, thought to be super rare. Some were even gold plated, fetching hundreds of dollars, based on an imaginary market of supply and demand.

The market eventually collapsed. Why? Because that ego-fueled boom left the average customer (kids) behind in the dust, only to be overrun by greedy adults looking to make a quick buck. Kids didn’t have hundreds of dollars on hand to buy cards, nor did they have the sense to follow such a wide variety of availability. The market had priced out (and emotionally edged out) the demographic that was the backbone of its demand. Without the interest of kids, the market was left with a bunch of adults wondering what to do with their inventory. By the late 90’s, card shops had gone bankrupt, and people were throwing out their cards or literally burning them.

“If everything is a “special limited release,” is it really all that special?”

My concern with the current market of craft beer stems from what I saw with the baseball card market 30 years ago. We’ve already seen in 2019 the first year of decline in the number of new breweries (still increasing in total numbers but slowing). More importantly, the craze of “special releases” and “limited production” beers are turning customers in a direction that almost always works out negatively for the entire market. If everything is a “special limited release,” is it really all that special? After all, beer ingredients aren’t limited, and there isn’t any shortage of grains or hops. So how the hell is it special?

In my view, the only type of beer that can still hold value are those that are defined by time, like aged stouts or sours. Those could be considered limited because of the time and cost associated with holding inventory. And like aged beers, customers will continue to see value in aged spirits because their availability is truly based on a limitation—it costs a tremendous amount of money to make and age spirits! That’s much different than a beer brewed in two weeks, in limitation because the brewer decided not to make any more…

Will we see a reduction in breweries and overall fanaticism for craft beer? History would say: undoubtedly so. But the breweries that stood out originally and didn’t exploit their customers will survive, true to their original market. After all, beer is supposed to be enjoyed with a stress-free mindset. No one should stand in line overnight just to drink a beer.

But if that’s what you’re into, fine. And while you wait, can I interest you in buying some baseball cards?

— Patrick Carey