Autograph Hound: Dangerous Species, Not Yet Endangered

You had a lousy day at the office. You went 0 for 5 on national TV. You came to bat in the 10th inning with a chance to put your team ahead and a chance to tie Mickey Mantle on the all-time home run list, and you struck out.

Now, you’re drowning your sorrows in a platter of french fries when some joker who earlier wanted your autograph comes up to your table, swears at you, shreds a piece of paper and sprinkles it over your french fries.

This is the position Reggie Jackson finds himself in Saturday evening, in a restaurant-bar across the street from the Angels’ hotel in Milwaukee.

What happens next is up to a court of law to decide. This much is certain--Reggie chooses not to construe the fellow’s gesture as a one-man ticker-tape tribute to Reggie’s marvelous career. Reggie goes after the man.

Maybe there is a chokehold applied by Jackson, and maybe punches are thrown. Maybe the autograph seeker merely slips on a stray french fry and hits his head on a counter. Anyway, the guy winds up on the floor, bleeding from his face, a tooth chipped, still without an autograph but possibly with Reggie’s personal handprints on his throat.

Who is at fault?

How about the guy who invented the autograph? This is the most dangerous social interchange in sports, ranking above the clothesline, crackback, lowbridge and beanball.

Very few athletes understand the magic of the autograph, what it means to a fan.

And very few fans understand what a burden it is for an athlete to be hounded incessantly by desperate, yapping, often-surly autograph seekers. I’ve seen Reggie Jackson sit in a quiet corner booth in a nearly deserted coffee shop and wind up signing 10 autographs while his eggs get cold.

I’ve seen players politely decline to sign, only to have the fans turn on them, hurling truly vicious insults. It can get ugly.

Reggie Smith was walking to his car in the Dodger Stadium parking lot after a game in 1978 when two men asked for his autograph. The two fellows were brothers, in their mid-20s. When Reggie declined to sign, one man busted the windshield on Smith’s car and the other brother broke a beer bottle over Reggie’s head.

Smith, a guy you truly hate to see become angry, proceeded to perform a little janitorial work, mopping up the parking lot with the siblings. Both were found guilty of assault.

But that’s Reggie Smith, you say. In his baseball career, Reggie Smith scored more knockouts than Mike Tyson.

What about someone who is unfailingly pleasant and accommodating to autograph seekers? What about Steve Garvey? Garvey has probably signed more autographs than any five athletes alive. Here’s what Garvey says in his autobiography:

“There are a lot of very rude people out there, and a good percentage are sports fans. They’ll shove a piece of paper in my face and say, ‘Sign this,’ or grab at my arm when I’m trying to eat. I get irritated. Usually, I’ll sign, but I won’t give them as much as I normally would. . . . Sometimes, I’ll even give them a lesson in manners. . . . “

Why do you think they call them hounds , Garv? The dictionary defines hound , the verb, as “to chase or follow continually; nag.”

If they can tick off a Steve Garvey, you know the autograph hounds often live up to their label.

Not that I hold athletes blameless in this little war. Many players consider themselves exempt from the rules of polite society. For example, I have extended my hand to players in introductory situations and had the hand stared at as if I were holding out a dead squirrel.

However, in the interests of safer and warmer interrelationships between players and fans, I offer a few tips to autograph seekers. In honor of the beleaguered Mr. Jackson, let’s call them Reggie’s Rules of Order:

(1) Check the box score. If your autograph target just went 0 for 7 or hasn’t had a hit in three weeks, be aware that he might be a little grumpy.

(2) With your eyes closed, extend both arms and try to touch the tip of your nose. This is a sobriety test. Heavy drinking seems to increase a fan’s desire to obtain an autograph, as well as his tendency to smash a beer bottle over the athlete’s head if he refuses.

(3) Check your driver’s license. If you have one, reconsider asking for that autograph. Autographs are for kids. If you’re too old--puberty is a good cutoff line--try to be satisfied with just saying hello and maybe shaking hands with the athlete, or offering him your business card or a cookie.

(4) Remember those magic words, “Please,” “Thank you,” and “Here, let me pick up that check.” Athletes appreciate common courtesy, even if some of them never use it.

(5) If turned down, don’t retaliate physically, even if you’re dealing with Buddy Biancalana or Spud Webb. The little guys run laps and do Nautilus, too.

(6) Pick your spots. It is appropriate to ask for an autograph outside a locker room door. It is inappropriate to yell, “Sign this, Slugger!” and toss your scorecard and pencil over the door of a stall in the men’s room.

(7) If you’re going to curse at an athlete and sprinkle little bits of paper over his plate of french fries because he has refused your autograph request, make sure you’re wearing rubber-soled shoes for better traction.