If you collected in Canada, this is the card that lived in every story a few years older than yours. The photo is simple and perfect, Gretzky in Oilers blue, gliding with that economy of motion only he had. The details that matter show up in the hand. Edges that look like they were kissed by a bread knife. Centering that refuses to sit still. A back that speaks two languages because this was O-Pee-Chee, a Canadian release made for Canadian kids, sharing a design with Topps but carrying its own identity. That bilingual back and the way these sheets were cut are more than trivia. They define how the card ages, how it grades, and why collectors talk about OPC and Topps as cousins, not twins.
The rough-cut edges are not a flaw to be polished away. They are part of the factory story. OPC cards from 1979 were wire cut, which left that fibrous look even on high-grade copies. It is one reason photograde examples can show fuzzy borders and still land strong numbers, and it is also why perfect centering and registration feel almost mythical. If you have handled a few, you recognize the good ones in seconds by how the border and image pull you in despite the chaos at the edges.
At the summit sits a number that rewired the hobby. Only two PSA 10s exist for the OPC rookie. One of them sold for 3.75 million dollars in March 2021, an all-time moment that announced vintage hockey as a peer to baseball’s blue chips and gave every snapshot of the Great One new altitude. Population two is not an idea, it is a reality that sets the tone for everything beneath it.
The middle of the mountain is where most of the action lives and where eye appeal does the heavy lifting. In 2025, PSA 6 copies have been changing hands from the mid two thousands to the low three thousands depending on centering and print quality. That band makes intuitive sense when you look at the curve from late 2024 through the summer, and when you consider how many 6s are out there relative to 7s and 8s. A well-centered 6 with calm borders and clean focus can feel better than the grade suggests, which is why those stronger results do not look like outliers.
Authenticity checks are part of the ritual. This is one of the most counterfeited modern vintage cards, and the tells are consistent. Originals have that wire-cut texture and a print that holds together under magnification, while many fakes show unusually sharp, blade-like edges and a soft, cloudy image. On the back you may encounter light blue print lines that some collectors prize as a production artifact, but they are not a guarantee of anything by themselves. The best habit is to train your eye on font shapes, dot patterns, and surface under good light, then let a trusted authenticator back you up.
OPC versus Topps is a conversation as old as the card. The fronts match, yet the markets have rarely done so. The Canadian issue is tougher in top condition and typically carries the premium, while the Topps version gives many collectors a path into the story at a lower cost. Both are real rookie cards and both carry the same image that now feels like hockey shorthand. If you collect by narrative as much as by numbers, the OPC is the copy that grew up where Gretzky did, and that resonance is hard to miss.
Part of what makes this piece feel inevitable in the hand is the player himself. Gretzky’s career totals are so far beyond reach that they read like fiction, from 894 goals to 1,963 assists and 2,857 points, with trophy cases to match across the Hart, Art Ross, Conn Smythe, and Lady Byng. The rookie card is not just a snapshot from the first season. It is the opening chord to a body of work that remains unmatched, which is why the card carries a cultural weight that resales and registries only hint at.
Every generation of collectors finds its own way to this card. Some chase a centered copy with honest edges. Some hunt the cleanest back they can find, blue print lines or not. Some simply want a real one that feels good to look at. The grail aura comes from all of it at once. It is the kid in the corner store. It is the wire cut. It is the two in a sea of millions. And it is the quiet moment when you tilt the slab, see the Oilers blue catch the light, and realize you are holding a piece of hockey that still refuses to feel ordinary.
