share your most compelling autograph story

galaxy27

i'll start. i'm typically a TL;DR kind of story teller, but here's hoping my entry will be worth the extreme verbosity.

back in late March of 2018, i was attending the PGA Tour stop here in Houston with my girlfriend. at the time, it resided in a very enviable position on the tour schedule -- one week ahead of The Masters. as a result, the fields were super-alluring, attracting many of the top names in the sport. sure, they cared about the Houston Open and were trying to win, but the bigger picture consisted of them honing their craft just prior to the biggest tournament in all of golf. not only that, but an added bonus was the fact that many international players -- also notorious for playing the week before a major -- were encompassed within the confines of the grounds on a yearly basis.

to that point, a 42-yr-old Englishman named Ian Poulter was a part of said 2018 tournament. except he was playing for a much more urgent reason: he had to win the Houston Open to earn a spot in The Masters the following week. in other words, he had not played well enough for an extended period of time to merit an invitation. his final chance -- albeit a very remote one -- was to win the tournament.

on Thursday (round 1), he shot a less-than-stellar 73 to put him in 123rd position on the leaderboard. his puncher's chance had essentially evaporated. he was, for all intents and purposes, dead in the water. forget winning, he needed to go very low in round 2 just to make the cut and play on the weekend.

this is where i (and my girlfriend) enter the protracted anecdote.

i've turned into a golf autograph hound over the past few years, and my better half doubles as my partner in crime. she loves interacting with the players, hence she really digs the acquisition of the "graphs." she gets the vast majority of 'em, and i keep all of 'em. win-freaking-win.

at the time, i had a work-in-progress golf flag that did not include Poulter. i desperately wanted it to, however, because although he had a tendency to be abrasive and churlish at times, he was indeed quite the character. for example, back in 2008 he was quoted as saying that once he plays to his full potential it'll be just him and Tiger. yeah ok, Ian. you're more than welcome to wake up at any time. and as soon as i grow 5 inches, lose 25 years off my age and have a heavy dose of athleticism injected into my veins, it'll be just me and Giannis Antetokounmpo.

but you catch my drift. had to have him.

our final day at the tournament was on Friday, the second round. the clock was ticking fast and desperate times were calling for desperate measures. thus, we targeted Poulter just prior to his round, which was a cardinal sin in the world of golf autographs. and when i say just prior, i literally mean minutes before he was about to tee off. not the time to be asking a pro athlete for their John Hancock. let me say that again, but this time in bold and italicized: not the time to be asking a pro golfer for their signature on a collector's flag. the train wreck that was about to happen could not have been more lucid in my mind.

so as any boyfriend worth his salt would do, i withheld the impending danger that loomed, wound my arm up in a circular motion like a pitcher loosening up in the bullpen, then proceeded to give my girlfriend a love smack on the backside along with words of encouragement as Poulter approached on his way to the first tee box.

"let's get this guy."

then i closed my eyes and turned my head.

half a minute later...

in a 1000% exasperated voice.............."ok i'm done. no more."

"what happened?"

"he basically threw the flag at me."

i looked at it, saw the walking signature and thought to myself, "wow, that went a lot better than i expected."

operative phrase: "thought to myself." had i said it out loud, the tournament would have been temporarily suspended to clean up the blood on hole #1.

now for the you-can't-make-this-stuff-up portion of the narrative.

Poulter lit the track up on Friday with a 64, making the cut.

on Saturday (round 3), he went low again with a 65.

on Sunday (the final round), the most inconceivable thing happened: he shot 67 and won the Houston Open in a playoff, thereby solidifying his spot in The Masters just a few short days later. and when i say inconceivable, i'm not overstating the magnitude of his accomplishment: it was the first time a player had come from that far back after the first round to a win a PGA-sanctioned event in over three decades.

bottom line: were it not for us.......err, me......royally pissing Ian Poulter off moments before his opening drive in the 2nd round, he never would have possessed the requisite contempt to pull off the unthinkable.

okay, maybe not.

but that's my story, and i'm sticking to it.

JBrules

Wow!!! That is a crazy train he must have been riding that weekend. Great story.

AnkurJ

Not as interesting as yours, but working as a retail pharmacist in North NJ had its perks sometimes. I have filled multiple prescriptions for Yogi Berra, Willis Reed, Charles Smith and multiple Giants players. I never asked for an autograph the first time I met them, and never for a picture with them out of professionalism. When they got to know me, I did ask for an autograph. Though now I wish I was prepared with a vintage card or something.

GreenSneakers

I took the kids to a NY Ranger alumni event several years back, and filled up from sportslots to get cards autographed. I splurged and got a short print foil Colton Orr rookie.

At the event, my kid hands Colton the card and he obviously had never seen it before, asking a few questions about it including “How much is it worth?” “About $20”, I said.

He signed the card, was about to hand it over but quickly pulled it back. “How much is it worth now?” “About $15”, I replied.

Took a chance poking fun at one of the toughest guys ever to lace the skates, but he and the other players around him roared. Ended up getting several pics with the kids too.

graygator

I was a big Braves fan growing up in north Florida during the dominance of TBS. In I'm guessing 1992, my family went to spring training. While we were hanging on the fence trying to get autographs (and got Francisco Cabrera, which we would be glad for that October), my Mom went to the concession stand. Right after she got the snacks, Tom Glavine walked by the concession stand in full uniform. She grabbed him, but with nothing for him to sign, and no pen. So she borrowed a sharpie from someone and had him sign her box of peanut M&Ms.

She comes running up to us smiling and says "you'll never guess whose autograph I got! Tom Glavine, he just walked right by!" So we're like, where, let us see, and she shows us the box of M&M's, but there's nothing but a black smudge on the box. She had rubbed her thumb across it carrying it back while it wasn't yet dry.

So of course, we gave her hell about ruining a Glavine auto, and I'd bring it up any chance I could get over the next year or so. It got so bad that she went behind our back, wrote him a letter telling the story and how she was getting grief from her kids, and asking if he could send an autograph so we'd be quiet about it. As I recall the story, she didn't put a card in with the letter, but he wrote back a nice note (I can't find that letter from him, unfortunately) and included this signed card. She then proceeded to waive the card around in our faces as "her" autograph for a while, before caving and giving it to me. A few years ago I found it under my old bed with a few other forgotten things from childhood.

jimmyg

Saturdays in the mid-80s, my dad would drive us around to baseball card stores. JJs on Victory was a family favorite because it was co-located with batting cages.

I was in the card store; my little brother and dad were at the batting cages. My brother came over to tell me there was a Major Leaguer at the batting cages signing autographs. I went over to get an autograph.

I didn't see my dad, but my brother and I got in line. When we got to the front of the line, I found my dad talking to Curt Flood about his 8 for 9 day. And then about life in St. Louis. And then about Cardinals teammates.

The line dissipated. I went back to the card store. My dad and Curt Flood continued to talk.

I spent all of my allowance money and looked around for ages. I went back to the cages. They were still talking.

It remains the only time in my life that I had to ask my dad to leave a card store (he declined).

orioles93

At the Orioles Fan Fest years ago. I got Chris Tillman's autograph after he came out of the bathroom. Didn't realize he had just come out of there until afterwards. I didn't see him come out, but my dad did and told me after. I just thought I was walking past him. I hope he washed his hands!

Canes8387899101

As an 11 yr old my mom took me to Yankees spring training in Ft Lauderdale. We lived in N. Miami at the time, so just up the road. Anyway Don Mattingly was driving out of the players lot, and fans had gathered hoping players would stop. He did stop, but by the time we got to the front of the line to the drivers window he wanted to leave. My mom said something like I can't believe you are going to disappoint my boy. I'll stand in front of your car until you sign this for him. My mom went full on crazy mom for me, and Don Mattingly, probably freaked out, signed my 84 topps rookie, and drove away.

rmh111985

I've shared this one in the past, and actually doesn't have anything to do with meeting the signing parties. During my sophomore year of college at St. Joe's in Philly I got a Pallestra ticket package that got me 5 games. At the SJU-Nova game in early spring, I was picked to partake in the on-court shot challenge during one of the time outs. My roommates and I were two sheets to the wind when we got to the game, and we all thought I had no chance. I had to make a layup, a free throw and a three pointer, I think in 30 seconds or less, with no assistance on ball retrieval. I made the first 2 with ease, and as the buzzer sounded hit the three pointer. The guy from Nova had also hit all three shots. The prize was revealed to us after, a basketball signed by the Philly Big 5 coaches, including John Chaney and Jay Wright. Since they didn't have them on hand, we had to wait several months. Finally, later that year, this showed up at my parents house: