Pokémon's evolution: From skydiving Pikachus to global phenomenon

USA TODAY

Nov. 14, 2025Updated Feb. 27, 2026, 9:01 a.m. ET

It’s August 27, 1998, and Alyssa Buecker is waiting in line with her mom and dad in Topeka, Kansas, for the American launch of Pokémon. She received a letter in the mail from Nintendo inviting her to the celebration at the Topeka Air Industrial Park, and as a budding anime fan and lifelong gamer, she was buzzing with excitement. The mayor renamed the city ToPikachu, Kansas, for the day, and 10 bright yellow Volkswagen Beetles sporting cartoon ears and tails were lined up, ready to start their nationwide tour.

Skydivers dressed in yellow Pikachu costumes dropped from the sky over the airfield, along with hundreds of plush toys sporting their own tiny parachutes. Alyssa watched as kids and adults alike scrambled over the grass, desperate to snatch a coveted toy. Little did she know that she was witnessing the beginning of something that would stretch well beyond that exciting day.

It was official: Pokémon had arrived in America.

Already a sensation in Japan, Pokémon was a multimedia success: Pokémon Red, Green and Blue for the Nintendo Gameboy had sold more than 10 million units, millions of trading cards were in circulation, and the Pokémon anime was one of Japan's highest-rated kids TV shows. The franchise wasn’t just an idle pastime for children; it was a cultural and entertainment juggernaut that was about to go global.

Pokémon Red and Blue were released in America on Sept. 28, 1998. The game allowed players to collect, train and battle Pokémon, as well as link their Gameboys with friends to trade any Pokémon they captured. Everyone wanted to complete their collection of the original 151.

I was young at the time, but Pokémon’s reach was inescapable. The anime was airing before school on The WB, and it showcased key battles, characters and locations from the Gameboy games. That generated excitement for the American release of the Pokémon Trading Card game in January 1999. The cards became a phenomenon of their own. Within the year, kids were showing off their collections on the school bus, negotiating trades during school lunch and challenging one another to card battles at recess.

I was a fan of Japanese anime at the time from renting VHS tapes from Hollywood Video and watching it on Toonami, and I had already alienated myself by talking nonstop about it. My friends were annoyed and bored with my obsession. It wasn’t “cool” to like anime, and I learned quickly that my insistence would only separate me from my friends over time.

But Pokémon was different. It was nerdy, but it was also connecting. The design of the game encouraged you to play with friends, find common ground and create community beyond school cliques. And the sheer magnitude of its marketing forced every kid in the '90s to recognize it on sight. The nerds still nerded out the most about it, but even the popular girls were collecting cards by the end of the year. Not to play with, but just to own and cherish, the way we all had with many other '90s fads – Pogs, Beanie Babies, Lisa Frank stickers.

Inspired by bug collecting, the creator of Pokémon crafted creatures that featured different abilities, rarities, environments, sizes and temperaments. Plus they were cute. Really cute. Part of the appeal of Pokémon was the collecting itself: Filling in your Pokédex or binders brought a sense of accomplishment and completion. Each new card or sighting carried the thrill of discovery, and stumbling across a rare Pokémon meant instant playground bragging rights. With 151 original Pokémon in the game, “Gotta Catch ’Em All” wasn’t just a marketing slogan, it was a mission chanted in cafeterias across the country.

Following the format of other highly successful trading card games such as Magic: The Gathering, Pokémon cards were released in starter decks and randomized booster packs that could be found lining Toys “R” Us aisles, game stores and even gas stations. Every kid knew the thrill of tearing one open, hoping the shimmer inside might be a rare holographic card. Not even teenagers, kids were already learning the art of negotiation, trading based on rarity, popularity or sheer affection for their favorite Pokémon.

It didn’t stop when we all grew up, either. Pokémon card collecting continued and expanded, spanning nearly three decades, eventually maturing into a full-blown collectors’ market. By 2025, rare cards were selling for staggering sums. A first-edition holographic Charizard, once the crown jewel of '90s playgrounds, now fetches tens of thousands of dollars at auction, and at least one pristine, graded copy crossed the million-dollar mark. Companies like PSA and Beckett grade and encase cards like fine art, and collectors track card listings, conditions and market value with the intensity of Wall Street traders. The hobby isn’t just about nostalgia anymore; it’s about scarcity, prestige, and serious money.

This market of demand didn’t appear overnight. It evolved over time, with the rise of internet unboxing videos and Twitch streams helping fuel the frenzy. Influencers and YouTubers pulled rare cards on livestreams, turning it into a shared spectacle and helping reignite the craze. Stores couldn’t keep packs on shelves; at one point, Target and Walmart even suspended in-store sales after crowds became unruly. Scalpers have inflated the market; some track shipment trucks so they can swoop in and buy entire hauls, then list the packs at huge markups. For longtime fans, the mania feels like the '90s all over again, only this time, the whole internet is watching.

Looking back, Pokémon has never really been just a kid’s game or TV show. It’s always been bigger: a shared experience across generations and cultures. Each game release is bigger and better-selling than the last, and with the franchise expanding into our phones with Pokémon GO and Pokémon TCG Pocket, collections no longer need a shoebox under your bed − they live in your pocket, accessible at any moment. The mediums may have changed and expanded over time, but the thrill hasn’t.

Because in the end, whether you were standing in ToPikachu, Kansas, in 1998 or opening a booster pack with your kids in 2025, the call is the same as it ever was: Gotta Catch ’Em All.

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