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Baseball Primer Newsblog — The Best News Links from the Baseball Newsstand Monday, November 26, 2012Joura: Orel Hershiser and Bob Gibson: Opposite ends of the autograph spectrumBob Gibson…more Eastwood than Hartung.
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1. RMc's Unenviable Situation Posted: November 26, 2012 at 10:17 AM (#4309629)He was the reason I became a baseball fan in the first place. And now he's gone.
I've been a diehard baseball fan since I was six--it was Hershiser's magical fall of '88 that got me started, actually--and I've never asked for an autograph in my life and never been tempted to. Even as a kid it seemed tacky to me, plus I've always had a certain instinctive need to avoid what everyone else is doing.
My first autograph was a random guy in a men's clothing store, who resembled Pete Rose as long as you ignored the fact that he was about five feet tall.
Of course, I once had a drunk guy come up to me on the street and very enthusiastically tell me that he voted for me, so I guess I've been on both sides of that one.
Well, & Dave Bing after he spoke at some sort of black businessman's luncheon here in Montgomery in the fall of 2002. He was one of my favorite NBA players when I was a distinctly ABA-leaning fan as a kid.
http://newyork.cbslocal.com/2012/07/06/r-a-dickeys-wild-journey-to-master-pitcher-goes-well-beyond-the-perfect-knuckleball/
Once he got closer, I realized it was Joe Torre (at that time the Cardinals' manager) and, as a ridiculous coincidence, I happened to be carrying a paper bag containing a plastic plate from a fourth-grade art project (20 years earlier) that was imprinted with a drawing I made of my favorite player at that time---Joe Torre. (I had recently found it when my parents were selling their house and I cleared out some old belongings; I mentioned the plate to my friends, who were Cubs fans, and I decided to bring it over to their apartment for "show and tell").
I remember walking up to Torre, and actually saying to him, "You're not going to believe what I have in this bag." I pulled out the plate, and started to tell him about the fourth-grade art project, and he looks at me and asks, "You're giving me the plate?" And I said no, I just happened to be walking by on my way to my friends' place, and then he pulls out a blue Sharpie, which he just happened to be carrying, and offers to sign the plate. Which he did.
I still have the plate. I now keep it in a large plastic Ziploc bag because over the years the blue ink has faded and turned gray, due, I imagine, to exposure to the air. And there's a sort of crazy twist to the story that occurs a couple years later, which I'll relate if anyone's interested.
Does it involve Lech Walesa?
Ridiculous. How can a person catch their own feces in their mouth without first getting the key to the shackles?
I assume it involves Derek Jeter passing you in the street and pulling out a fourth-grade plate with a picture of you.
I'm busy cleaning my monitor now
My friend was a big time hockey fan, and his two favourite players were Rick Middleton and Frank Pietrangelo.
I sent off autograph requests to those gentlemen about 3 months before my friend's 16th birthday, with letters that explained what the autographs were for.
About 2 months later, both men had sent me two signed photos each. Each of them had written a quick personalized happy birthday note to my friend on one of their photos, and then simply signed the second photo. I kept the second signed photos for myself, but have long since lost them in multiple moves.
You're right, I guess that first part is crazier than my so-called crazy twist.
So a couple years later, I get this package in the mail from a friend who lives in a small town in the Green Mountains in Vermont. I open it up, and it's a VHS tape in a plain VHS box, no label, nothing. I put it in my player and start to watch it, and it's just random video of this guy and another friend driving around the mountains, walking around his property, etc., and then after awhile they settle into his living room and start to talk about Joe Torre, and my unhealthy obsession with him, and then the video pans to a TV screen with a close-up video image of Joe Torre.
Suddenly, the video I'm watching switches to a field-level view of Busch Stadium, with a bunch of ballplayers (Brian Jordan, etc.) laying around stretching before a game, and then a baseball rolls right up to the camera lens, at first out of focus because it's so close, and then the ball comes sharply into focus so that you can see the texture of the hide.
Then the video switches again, this time, to Joe Torre, standing in front of the camera in uniform, hat on, and he says, "Dave, I just want to take this time---I know it's been a couple years since I signed that plate for you---I really appreciate it, especially at my age now, that people still remember me playing, and I really appreciate the thought to make that plate, and I'm glad I signed it for you, and maybe we can get together down the road. Thank you, and good luck."
And then the video ends.
Now whenever friends drop by who might be baseball fans---or even who know who Joe Torre is---I like to show them the signed plate, and tell them the story, and then blow their minds by showing them the video (which I recently had transferred to DVD).
The only athlete I've been close enough to get an autograph from, being totally uninterested in autographs, was Bill Wennington, who ran a basketball camp near my hometown. My dad kept making fun of him though, so even if I wanted autographs I wouldn't have thought to ask him.
The injustice!
The friend has a lot of great stories about both athletes and media creatures, and at one time he had an amazing compilation that circulated among the cameramen brethren of unbelievable, over-the-top goings-on at sporting events, including but not limited to: toplessness, public sex acts, streakers, fist fights, and (actually more hilarious than it might sound) a number of people horking their guts out.
good stuff
i have an amusing story about a grandson and autographs. the family lives in cincy and are not reds fans but the dad got free tickets to 'redsfest' so he took the boy when he was about 4-5 years old. the youngster was wearing a baseball cap and at one point they ran straight into johnny bench who reached down, took off the boy's hat, autographed it and then chatted with him and his dad for a while.
so they are leaving redsfest and dad asks his boy how he enjoyed the day. the young man replies, 'i had a good time until that man wrote on my hat'
I guess Mike Ilitch is beloved.
My favorite turn-down of an autograph was during college; I went to the Vet to see my beloved Mets play, and my at-the-time favorite player Butch Huskey was warming up before the game. Several people were asking for autographs, and he finally turned around and says "F**k you, I don't come to your work and bother you!" and leaves. And that was when Butch Huskey's brief run as my favorite player ended.
Once I stayed at the same St. Louis hotel as the Mets, and I waited outside with my little cousin to get autographs ("His name is Kurt Abbott"). The other people there asking for autographs were fat avaricious nerds with binders of cards and photos, just looking to drive up the value of their holdings. I imagine players have to run through a gauntlet of these leaches several times a day and it must be exhausting. Derek Bell had the largest headphones I'd ever seen on and just cruised through without making eye contact. Probably the right approach.
Later, I lived in Hollywood & ran into Bo Diddley hanging around outside the Roosevelt Hotel on Hollywood Blvd. He signed the binder I was carrying, which I gave away to a girl I was then crazy about.
The only "autographs" I've kept that I cared about were
1) baseball signed by all the kids on the first Little League team I coached, which they surprised me with at our end-of-season party. It's on my bookshelf.
2) letters of reference signed by four attorneys I'd worked with, supporting me for a job I didn't get... but they didn't have to write those letters, and they're individualized and great. Those are framed (one big frame) in my office.
My only autograph moment wasn't even mine. One of my friends works at a parking garage, and one of the guys who parked there regularly was Stan Musial. Jim worked up his courage and asked Stan if he would autograph something - for me, not for Jim. Jim isn't into baseball. Stan promptly whipped out two photos of himself, and signed one for each of us. But, then, everyone knows about Musial. - Brock Hanke
And this isn't autograph related but still fun. We took a bus trip to Fenway and got there so early we wandered around the ballpark. We saw an Oriole pitcher warming up. It was Pat Dobson. He must have been in a real good mood, because he asked us what we wanted him to throw. And complied, even when we requested a knuckleball. All of a sudden George Bamberger appeared and said "You ###### kids! Get the #### out of here!" Scared the crap out of us.
That same day I saw the worst booing of an individual player I ever witnessed. It was Carl Yastrzemski. He wasn't hitting, the team was out of it, and they mildly booed him early. Then TWICE he refused to run after the catcher missed the third strike. After the second time the booing was so loud they held up the game.
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