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“Think I’ll let her keep on going
Where ever it is, she’s goin’, too.
Give her my autograph and tell her
It’s been nice knowin’ you.”

The Monkees—“Star Collector”


What is it with this preoccupation of mine of collecting autographs? I have a few rock music autographs, a few more comic book writers and/or artists autographs, and many, many more Chicago Bears autographs.

I mean, after all, they are just people. They are no more significant than you or me, right?

My wife told me that my Walter Payton autograph was worth nothing because I will never sell it. On the not selling it note, she is correct—I will NEVER SELL IT.

Other than that, she is wrong.

Walter was the greatest offensive football player to ever play the game. He ran more yards than anyone else in the league for a very long time—his record recently broken by Emmit Smith who played behind much better Dallas Cowboy teams than the Chicago Bears ever had. And yes, he is a significant person.

My autograph of Shelly Moldoff—golden age comic artist with a Batman sketch—is priceless. He lived through the single most significant comic generation and created an entertainment medium that has been cherished for decades.

My Will Eisner autograph on a personal letter on personal stationary is equally priceless. He started the graphic novel and redefined how comic books should look and feel. Sequential Art was what he called his developments.

My autograph Dick Butkis and Gayle Sayers and Mike Ditka—all are priceless. They represent the game in the way it was meant to be played. Equally true of Dan Hampton, Tommy Waddle, Jay Hilgenberg, Jimbo Covert, Kevin Butler, Mike Singlegary, Gary Fencik, Matt Suhey, Jim McMahon, Otis Wilson, Steve McMichael, and Tom Thayer autographs.

Sure, these are human beings with a knack for being famous, but I think it is fitting to pay homage to them. If I ever do anything of great magnitude and someone asks for an autograph, how humbling it would be.

The most recent autograph I obtained also has that picture above associated with it. I helped to arranged to have Doug Buffone as a guest speaker for our United Way Kick-off Breakfast this year. I had the extreme pleasure of listening to him tell stories of the glory days of the black and blue division. I was fortunate enough to chat with him while we ate, and I performed his introduction to a large audience of well over 100 guests. It was an honor, it was a privilege and it was done out of respect for this man who gave the fans something to cheer about.

Usually we snag an autograph of a person who has changed our view, entertained us, made us forget our troubles for a while, and brought us some pleasure. They seem larger than life and they seem to grace us with their presence, if only for a short while. Here is a man who did what I have only dreamed of doing—playing professional football for my favorite team; now talking about it on 670 AM—The Score in Chicago; and he actually took the time to help out our volunteer agencies. He also actually took the time to talk to me and complimented me on my teaching career. He seemed larger than life because in many ways he was.

He was among my older brother’s and my father’s favorite players. He changed our lives for the better and gave us something to cheer about. He is significant.

And I feel better having his autograph.

I will remember that when I sign a student’s yearbook—they ask me to sign because I changed their life for the better, gave them something to think about, or perhaps seemed larger than life.

Now, if only I could have played professional football for the Bears…

But that’s another story.