There's a museum in the back, behind glass — quite the collection of old cards, catcher's masks and Civil War-era bats. And then there are the rows and rows and rows of cards, sleeved and stacked for cardboard-box browsing and shopping. And shop you will: Here, history's affordable, sometimes as low as 50 cents per bubble-gum memory. We shop here regularly, three generations of card collectors: the grandfather who worshiped men named Koufax and Mays; the son whose idols were Harvey Martin and Jim Sundberg; the youngest one for whom any guy in a uniform on a card is considered a hero. Each of us never fails to find something during each trip. Bonus: Nick's is kind of like a sports-lottery ticket-seller too, peddling unwrapped packs for a few bucks each, some of which contain rare autographs, pieces of uniforms or other invaluable keepsakes. Buy the ticket; only thing missing is the sunburn.