Rambo, Walkie and getting that Autograph

 

I found myself thinking about autographs the other day.

            Which was nice.

            I’m currently reading books about the Marquis de Sade (if you don’t know him, look him up), so it was good to stray from some of the lascivious images and ideas that have been jammed into my head lately, and back into something a touch more innocent.

            Autographs.

            I’m not a current autograph collector, although I have some from Hobby boxes I’ve bought. At least not as an adult, I’m not. That’s not a judgment or some kind of superior statement. I know a good many autograph collectors in The Hobby, and I think it’s great. I love seeing their returns (especially if its of the Pittsburgh Pirates variety) and I enjoy seeing collectors enjoy, well, their Hobby. That’s what we do it for…despite what my Twitter feed looks like on certain days.

            ENJOYMENT.

            I just don’t seek autographs out.

            There’s always been a timidity there for me. It started when I was a kid in Pittsburgh. Back then, I really wanted autographs. Even though we always sat in Peanut Heaven, the ushers at Three Rivers Stadium allowed us kids to come down the box seats before the game, and hang around waiting for players to sign autographs after they were done warming up. A good many did back then. Even Barry Bonds did it from time to time, although I could never get my kid arm deep into that kind of fray to pull his autograph. I wasn’t bold enough to push my way into the crowd.

            We got some of our autographs waiting for the players after the game. Again, I wasn’t great at that either. When a player came out of the gate and into the parking lot, I was usually too afraid to approach him along with the shouting hoard, and shove my baseballs, cards, etc at him. Timidity can be a strong feeling. Or maybe I was too self-aware. Too worried that said player would be a jerk to me.

            And no one wants to find out that your hero is an asshole.

            The one I remember was getting an autograph from Pirates reliever Bill Landrum on the game day program.

            Of course, I don’t have it anymore.

            The only autographs that I have from my youth, are these.

            The Aaron I got at a card show in the early 90s and it came with a certificate of authenticity. I really wish that I’d had the chance to meet Mr. Aaron.

            The Stargell…I got that in person at the Monroeville Mall. I don’t know the why or reason, but he was at the mall signing autographs in the middle of the day. Willie Stargell. The man, the myth, the legend. And none of us knew he was going to be there that day. It was happenstance. The finest of coincidence that Pops Stargell and myself were at the Monroeville Mall on the same date and same time. Whatever walking around money I had that day…it went to a National League issue baseball that I bought at Keonig Sports, and promptly raced back to have Willie sign on the sweet spot.

            I’ve lost a lot of ephemera from my youth.

            The Stargell ball?

            I’m taking it with me when I go.

            Getting back to my thoughts on autographs, I suppose what I was really thinking about was firsts. The first time I’d ever gotten a player’s autograph. That turned my thoughts to these guys.

            I’m sure a good many of you know Bob Walk. Pitched in the 1981 Word Series, was a big part of those early 90s Pirates NL Eastern Division Championships. Still broadcasts for the Pittsburgh Pirates during home games.

Walkie is a favorite of mine

The other guy, Mike Diaz. He played parts of three seasons with the Pirates (1986-1988). Diaz was one of those slugging bench guys. Good to slug 12-20 home runs a year, and could play the outfield, first base, and made a pretty decent third-string catcher.

He was a bit of a cult hero in Pittsburgh.

We called him Rambo because of his build and supposed (I still don't see it) resemblance to Sylvester Stallone.

He even had his own charity poster.

It is my belief that Bob Walk and Mike Diaz were the first autographs that I ever got as a kid.

You see, in Pittsburgh (and maybe this happened where you were from) we used to have these youth baseball clinics hosted by the Pirates. They took place at youth ballparks in the city and suburbs during the day before a Pirates game, or when they had a day off. The clinics usually had someone from the pitching staff, a position player, and a coach, giving instruction on pitching, hitting, and baserunning fundamentals. Then there was an autograph session at the end. Nothing heavy. Just something fun for the kids and a way to connect the Pittsburgh Baseball Club to its city, and get up close and personal with a couple of players.

The clinic I went to was hosted by Bob Walk, Mike ‘Rambo” Diaz and coach Rich Donnelly.

The autos would’ve been on Pirates promotional material that looked as such.

Of course, I no longer have them.

But I do have a Bob Walk autograph today.

My brother pulled it out of a box of Archives a few years back, and was kind enough to send it to this fan.

Be cool to get a Mike Diaz autograph too.  The most I was able to find on him is that he’s a retired coach living in Hawaii.

Throughout my childhood and into my late teens, I got to collect a lot of autographs from card shows and from working as a sales clerk at the Pirates Clubhouse store. I’ve stood before Willie Mays. I’ve meet so many Pirates from autograph sessions. I’ve had Andy Van Slyke destroy my image of Pittsburgh Pirates unity. Bobby Bonilla talk about himself in third person. Barry Bonds NOT sign on the sweet spot. If I’m honest, I’ll say the kindest former player that I ever got an autograph from was Brooks Robinson. Even my old man was liking a gushing child in front of him.

And all of those autographs are lost to history.

One last anecdote.

It seems I’ve carried some of my timidity into adulthood. About a decade ago, I was home visiting in Pittsburgh and we went to a Pirates game. There were all of these festivities going on along Federal Street outside of PNC Park. Kiddie rides, food stands, that kind of thing. It was in this chaos that I noticed a man walk outside of a door at the ballpark and just kind of stand there taking it all in. It took me a second to realize that it was Bob Walk. Walkie himself! The way I wanted to grab whatever shard of paper that I had, run over, get his autograph, and tell him how he was my favorite Pitcher and how much I loved those teams in the late 80s/early 90s…was overwhelming.

So was my fear that my hero would turn out to be an asshole.

And I didn’t cross that street.

Thanks for reading! Happy Collecting! Happy AUTOGRAPH collecting!