Mar 21, 2008 By Rich Taylor - Special to the Times
I've got one from all time hockey great Gordie Howe, basketball star Jerry West and newly elected baseball Hall of Famer Cal Ripken.
Nolan Ryan gave me his, as did Kareem Abdul Jabbar and a bunch of San Jose Giants, most of whom have faded into oblivion never to be heard from again.
What do I have? Well, autographs is what I possess, none of which I know what to do with. They just sit there on a shelf gathering years and dust.
Decades later I question and wonder what can possibly be the mystique of an autograph. Kids nowadays clamor for them and surround their prey like bees around a hive. Getting one brings satisfaction and a smile. Do these same youngsters know they'll be in my shoes someday?
Actually, I was one of those kids that hung around locker rooms after games, waited in dimly lit parking lots or followed buses spewing fumes that had me smelling like a gas can for a week.
Yeah, I pushed and shoved with the best of them, straddled fences and shinnied up poles to get something scribbled on a napkin, a hot dog wrapper or my smelly tennis shoes.
As I ponder my smelly Converse high tops and recollect my travels, I can't believe I haven't sold all these autographs so I can purchase a Mercedes Benz with the profits or at least buy a McDonalds franchise.
If Joe Montana can get $75 an autograph ,and I have numerous signatures from famous athletes and stars like him, then I should be a millionaire if I sold them. What else can I do? The nostalgia has worn off and all I do is cart them from one house to the other when I move.
It's time to give up my autographed picture of the San Diego Chicken mascot, my Bill Murray golf ball and my Tony Hawk skateboard that's sitting in the backyard collecting rust.
I guess, instead of pondering what to do, I can give them to my sons, which will put them in the same boat as me down the road. Maybe they can get the big bucks in the year 2060.
But Andy Autograph, who researches these things, assured me that my autographs would fetch much less on the black market or about enough to purchase a minimal gift certificate at Wal-Mart.
Believe me, the last thing I need is another gift certificate from Wal-Mart. I only partially used the last one I got to purchase a helium filled Santa Claus that blew away from my front yard. I chuckle to myself as I recall some autograph hounding stories from the past and how some people will make fools of themselves to get one.
One member of the Los Angeles Kings, and I'm not kidding on this one, actually took out a rubber stamp and stamped his name on anything people wanted signed. Can you believe it? Must have had a bad case of carpal tunnel syndrome, even though computers weren't around then.
In Oakland, a visiting major league star strolled out to his car and proclaimed to everyone that he doesn't sign for anyone. Gee, why not? We pay your salary!
There was the time a couple of guys wanted to get an autograph and realized when they got to the front of the line, they didn't have anything to sign. Undaunted, they had the player sign a portion of their anatomy, and probably didn't shower for a month, or wash that spot until they could scan it to their laptop.
Let's see, if I were to get an autograph today and I was discreetly disguised to hide my just wanna be a kid again identity, I'd probably want the guy's autograph who ate the most hot dogs in one sitting because I don't yet have an autograph of an idiot. Or I'd want the autograph of the person who signs the winning lottery checks, especially with my name on it!
I can do without political figures because, frankly, who cares. And movie stars are a dime a dozen, here today gone tomorrow plastic people, who are only concerned about the size of their wallets. The autograph I would most cherish would be my 6-year-old son's signature. I couldn't sell it. It's legible. I don't have to knock over my wife to get it, and he's more than willing to give it to me.
And it's worth more to me than any one I have.
Rich Taylor Rich Taylor is the owner, head instructor and CEO of California Pitching Academy. He is a former pitching coach at Pepperdine University and Chicago White Sox scout. He founded the West Coast Baseball School. He has more than 20 years of youth coaching experience and wrote the book “Molding the Young Pitcher.” His regular column appears twice a month. Send him an email.
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