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July
13, 2005 |
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Einstein’s Theory of Relativity, Rick Santelli’s CNBC bond market reports and autographs. With all three I haven’t a clue. Especially autographs. Two Saturday’s ago I spent the day wandering Cherry Hills Country Club outside Denver enjoying the U S Women’s Open Golf Tournament. While spending a few moments watching Anika Sorenstam struggles I noticed her gallery included fellow Swede and Avalanche star Peter Forsberg. Not that Forberg was getting to watch much golf since he was being hassled by a gaggle of autograph seekers wanting him to sign everything from golf balls to hats to bare mid-riffs (thankfully it was only females wanting an autographed ab from an Av.) Forsberg very calmly kept signing while attempting to watch golf. Were I in the same spot after about five minutes you’d hear a very loud voice telling autograph hounds to “Go get a life.” Later I noticed a mob of people, not just kids but an incredible number of adults standing near the clubhouse Sharpies in hand. And why? Signatures. But every other golfer in the tournament seemed to have the last name of Kim, how many Kim’s does one really need? The same weekend as the golf tournament Country Jam was holding forth in Mack. There a different group of autograph hounds were on the prowl getting everything from hats to jeans signed by country stars. And why? Does getting an autograph mean you actually know the celebrity? Nope. Are they valuable? Nah. There must be desk and dresser drawers from Denver to Salt Lake City filled with the signatures of forgotten entertainers like McBride and the Ride, Doug Supernaw, The Tractors, Betsy Smittle or Ken Mellons. Rather than stand in the heat of a 100-degree day seeking an autograph, wouldn’t life be better served in the shade enjoying a frothy beverage. As a group the most obnoxious of autograph fans haunt major league baseball parks and NFL stadiums. They bring “rude” to a whole new level. “Would you please?” soon becomes “You horses hind end!” I once witnessed an autograph hound screaming at J.T. Snow of the Giants because he wouldn’t sign six, yes six, baseballs. For what? Most likely to sell. Bo Jackson was criticized because he would only sign for kids but adult autograph fanatics got around that by hiring kids to try and get a signed “Bo” to hawk on E-Bay. The adult autograph frenzy is beyond my comprehension. “Sign here” aficionados are best characterized by a Sports Illustrated story on Lee Trevino. The “Merry Mex” was enjoying an after golf drink with friends when their conversation was interrupted by a gushing admirer, “Mr. Trevino, I’m your biggest fan and just couldn’t leave here without your autograph. It would just mean the world to me if you would sign something.” Sure” smiled Trevino, ‘what do you want me to sign?” “Oh anything,” gasped the lady, “I’m sorry I don’t have a pen or paper, but please sign anything.” Scrambling through her purse she pulled out a five-dollar bill. “Here, sign this”. Trevino borrowed a Sharpie and after asking the lady her name wrote, “Jane, Thanks for being a fan, it’s appreciated. Lee Trevino.” The lady then went on and on with thank you’s before finally returning to her table. Fifteen minutes later Trevino picked up the check for the drinks. He gave the waitress a fifty and when the change arrived he found a five-dollar bill. On it was written, “Jane, Thanks for being a fan, it’s appreciated. Lee Trevino.” |
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