Cal Ripken Jr.’s autograph on his rookie baseball card is priced at over $300. In his playing days the Orioles’ ‘Iron Man’ signed autographs, especially for kids, for free.

ONE COLLECTOR’S PHONY SIGNATURE
CAN BE ANOTHER’S PRIZE POSSESSION

For the right price, celebrities
will sign anything but checks
 
By David Maril
 
What is the big deal about celebrity autographs? The whole process is often superficial and impersonal.

I’ve never understood why so many of us are obsessed with memorabilia related to the expanding group of rich and famous people.

I’m not completely against autographs, especially with kids and a sport like baseball. There’s nothing wrong with youngsters who have become fans of the great summer game looking up to players like Adam Jones and Chris Davis, wanting to emulate them on the field.

I hope, as the Orioles begin what seems to be a very promising season, players will be as affable and outgoing with kids seeking autographs as greats from the team’s past like Brooks Robinson and Cal Ripken.

What I do find offensive, however, are adults who approach autographs from a mercenary direction.

When I covered Major League Baseball in Boston, it seemed astounding, if not pathetic, to see dozens of adults crawling around with their faces pressed down on the sidewalk outside the players’ parking lot at Fenway Park after games.

They were  trying to get a glimpse, through the gap at the fence’s base, of the shoe-tops of their favorite Red Sox players getting into cars, before running out on the street to stop them for autographs.

What possesses middle-aged and even elderly fans to behave in such an embarrassing fashion?

Granted, there are collectors who make plenty of money wheeling and dealing by selling and trading autographs, turning this fixation of celebrity worship into a business.

Selling autographs has become such a big deal that many retired and still active athletes appear at events to get paid to put their names on baseballs, footballs, hats, slips of paper, bats, photos, magazines and anything else that can retain the ink-scratching of a pen. The joke is they’ll sign anything but checks.

Occasionally the athlete will look up and smile and exchange a few words.

More than 300 people showed up a week ago Saturday in Chesterfield, Mo. to pay $30-$35 for former Missouri defensive end Michael Sam — who could be- come the first openly gay NFL player — to sign autographs on photos, mini-hel- mets and magazines, and presumably his first trading card, even though no professional football team has signed him yet. Fans who wanted Sam to include the words “2013 SEC [Southeastern Conference] Defensive Player of the Year” with his name had to pay an additional $10 for the inscription. The Missouri star is projected to be a late-round National Football League draft pick this May.

At least a fan who pays to watch a celebrity sign something knows it’s for real. It’s no secret that for many years a sizable number of baseballs supposedly autographed by superstars were actually signed by clubhouse attendants who were paid by the celebrities to forge their names.

Fans will pay anywhere from $5 to $500 to stand in a long line of other “hero” worshipers to have their moment of handing the athlete an object to sign.

There’s even a market for players who have been banished from baseball. Pete Rose, banned from the sport for gambling on games, draws crowds of autograph seekers each year, sitting at a table on the street a day before the Hall of Fame induction ceremonies in Cooperstown.

For years, former Celtic great Bill Russell’s autograph was the one signature collectors coveted.

As a player and coach, Russell had a strict policy of refusing to sign autographs. He felt it was an exercise in superficiality and said he preferred to shake hands with the fan and have a brief conversation rather than sign his name on an object.

Because Russell’s autograph was in such short supply, it became extremely valuable. These days, either he’s mellowed or he enjoys some extra retirement money and is much more agreeable to autographs.

Cal Ripken was always extremely patient and generous signing autographs when people asked. He would spend hours of his time signing for anyone, especially kids.

When Ripken was still playing and the Orioles made a trip to appear in a Cooperstown exhibition game, Cal stood outside the stadium in uniform for much of the afternoon signing baseballs, bats, shirts and programs. He looked larger than life, towering over youngsters while he conversed with them and signed away.

Supposedly, Ripken’s signature is on so many items, it’s not worth much despite that fact he’s in the Hall of Fame.

Ravens’ running back Ray Rice signs autographs at ManCave Sports Memorabilia in December 2012 for a $79 fee. On Friday his fiancée Janay Palmer married him the day after his indictment on a third-degree aggravated assault charge for punching her unconscious last month in an Atlan- tic City casino elevator. As his wife however she may still be required to testify against him at trial.

One day covering a Red Sox series against the Twins, I listened to one of my sportswriter colleagues from another newspaper complaining in the Fenway Park press box about his boss.

“I’ve got a managing editor at the paper who is a big Harmon Killebrew fan,” he explained. “He gave me this baseball and he practically ordered me to get it signed by Killebrew sometime in this series. I’ve  put off doing it but tonight’s the last game of the series and he’s been calling me every day to get it done.”

For the most part, sportswriters who cover pro sports teams refrain from asking players for autographs or any other favors. It’s demeaning and unprofessional. You are there to cover the games and the athletes without assuming the role of hero worshiper.

This particular writer was old school all the way and the thought of approaching even an affable, unassuming player like Killebrew and asking for an autograph was very distasteful.

“That’s the last thing I want to be doing when I’m in here working,” he said. “I don’t even get autographs for my kids when they ask me. I’m not a boot-licking stooge.”

As the Red Sox-Twins game got into the seventh inning, he was still talking about how he hated to approach Killebrew and ask for the favor.

Finally, another sportswriter he was friends with, offered a solution.

“Give me the ball,” his friend said. “I’ll sign it and he’ll never know the difference. Here’s Killebrew’s signature on this scoreboard page and I can come pretty close.”

He took the baseball, grabbed his pen and signed Killebrew’s name.

We had to wait a few weeks, until the next home-stand, to find out  what happened with the baseball.

“I gave it to the managing editor and he was all excited,” the sportswriter with the troublesome boss, reported. “He took it home, had it mounted, and it’s sitting in the center of his mantel over the fireplace. He says it’s one of his proudest possessions.”

Whenever I think about it, I laugh about that baseball with the fake signature hanging in a place of honor.
 
davidmaril@hermanmaril.com
 
“Inside Pitch” is a weekly opinion column written for Voice of Baltimore by David Maril.

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Brooks Robinson told Voice of Baltimore in an interview several years ago he did not believe in charging fees for signing autographs. At the unveiling of his statue on Brooks Robinson Plaza, adjacent to Camden Yards, in 2011 he publicly told adoring witnesses, “I have never considered you ‘fans’; I’ve always considered you my friends, more than anything else.”