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When I was six, Don Mattingly and the rest of the 1990 New York Yankees jogged by me as I stood near the warning track at old Arlington Stadium, then home to the Texas Rangers. My next door neighbor had been selected to try to catch fly balls being dropped from a helicopter before the game, I shit you not, and he brought us along. He caught three-in-a-row and won free Wendy’s for a year. Sick promo that needs to make a comeback, IMO.
Back to me, though. My first great sports memory is Donnie Baseball acknowledging me during his pre-game lap. I stood there, frozen, Rawlings on my left hand, jaw dropped, as Mattingly simply uttered, “Hey kid.” Awesome. I had no idea who he was. I ran back to my old man, who was nearby and saw the whole thing, and he brought me up to speed on my brush with greatness.
Jump forward 25 years to last Saturday morning. I sat in the lobby of a downtown Houston hotel, looking like death and licking my wounds from the night before, from the main elevator walks none other than the 2015-16 Dallas Mavericks. I froze. Again. I had no idea what to do. There was remarkably little fanfare, as the lobby was basically empty. Just for context, I’m a massive Mavs fan. I’ll go into hiding when Dirk retires, and I take it personally when free agents don’t want to play with him.
With that being said, what is the proper etiquette for a grown ass man when he crosses paths with his favorite athletes?
Do Nothing
While I sincerely respect the “enjoy the moment” movement, you’re out of your mind if you think I’m just going to sit there and “take it all in.” Would I like to someday be in a position that professional athletes, most of whom are younger than me, won’t make me lose my composure like the Falcons in a playoff game? Of course. It’d be fantastic to just nod my head, utter “I’ll be dammed,” and continue viewing pointless snaps of my friends staring awkwardly at the camera with lightning bolts coming out of their eyes. But right now, that’s just not me.
Ask For An Autograph
I’m 31, and I’m pretty sure my window to ask for a 24-year-old multimillionaire’s signature closed well over a decade ago. I’m willing to grant an exception for a father that’s just trying to snag one for his kid, but the potential for abuse there is astronomical. I happened to witness a dude that had at least five years on me approach Chandler Parsons, with a Chandler Parsons bobblehead in hand, for an autograph. Are you kidding me? Surely this guy wasn’t just walking around with a damn bobblehead in his pocket, but it kinda looked that way. For the record, he signed it, but I’m sure he was weirded out. Lord knows I was.
Remember: You do not want to be the dirt bag standing amidst a group of kids begging for an autograph. Just go back to Buffalo Wild Wings with your custom Jets jersey and watch the game like the rest of us.
Ask For A Pic
This is the modern equivalent of an autograph. While you won’t be able to sell it on eBay, you’re guaranteed a full ride to Like University. It can be tricky, though. If you panic and fumble with your phone for too long, you’re going to make it awkward. You may only get one shot at it, and you don’t want to be the scrub who couldn’t figure out how the flash works while John Elway is standing there with a failed smile checking his watch. You’ll need a game plan. Scan the area for people who don’t matter and look friendly enough to snap the pic. You want to make this as painless as possible for the athlete, because they probably have models and prime rib waiting on them.
Take note from your boy:
That’s how it’s done. Okay, I would’ve expected more double taps, but half of my friends are Rockets fans, and they’re still bitter.
CP, because that’s what I call him now, couldn’t have been nicer. I waited until he wasn’t busy dealing with dudes carrying around bobbleheads, or babes that were throwing themselves at him, to approach. He didn’t even hesitate. In all honesty, he probably felt sorry for us since we are mere peasants, but I’ll take it.
Selfie?
I hate the term selfie. In the lexicon of the modern young adult, “selfie” is the most punchable word. Do not approach someone and ask, “Will you take a selfie with me?” Ugh. They’ll cringe, everyone around you will cringe, and you could be arrested. Possibly deported. If you must go this route, just approach with the phone camera already in mirror mode, and ask for a pic. No need to utter that word. They’ve been through this thousands of times in the last week alone, so they know the drill.
Take A Stealth Shot
If you’re crushing lettuce wraps at PF Chang’s and happen to notice Miggy Cabrera is sitting two tables over enjoying Kung Pao chicken with his family, do not approach. An athlete’s safe space should be respected, and I think we can all agree that The Chang’s is a certified safe space. Your best bet is to snag a stealth shot from across the room, preferably with Snapchat so you can circle his face and caption it. Yep, I think that’s the move.
Just Acknowledge Their Greatness
I didn’t get to meet Dirk (which is for the best because I’m not mentally equipped to handle that), but I knew going in that if I did, I’d just go for a handshake. Athletes at that level are constantly bombarded by autograph hounds and pic requests, so I’d like to think it’d be a breath of fresh air just to tell them “Good luck,” or “I’m a huge fan,” or maybe just a “Give ’em hell!” from across the room. Sure, your voice will probably crack and you’ll sound like a tool, but you can at least walk away knowing that you didn’t beat down your favorite athlete by asking if he’d sign your Patagonia hat..
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Dave
Lawyer. Writer. Dude doing business. I'm the meatloaf guy from tv.
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Got a “Hey kid” and fist bump from Tiger back in 2002 at Augusta on a practice round. Immediately knocked 10 strokes off my game.
I wonder what that fist smelled like…
hole 19
Favre lives in Hattiesburg, my hometown and where he played college ball (Southern Miss). He lives there because no one messes with him. He can go to the grocery store, throw the football with high school kids, bush hog his farm on the side of the highway without being bothered, etc. Apparently he was an absolute prisoner in his own house in Green Bay. Couldn’t take his family out to eat, nothing. Favre is every bit the down to earth good ol boy he projects. Made 100 million in his career, wears cut off tees and shitty shorts everywhere he goes.
You mean Wranglers?
It’s 100 with 80% humidity in the summer bro. Wranglers would be nearly intolerable in august.
Can confirm, lives down past Oak Grove. SMTTT
My coolest memory is being able to work with the Titans for 5 years. I saw Air McNair out once and just said “Hey Steve, see you tomorrow” and everyone around wanted to know who I was (not really). Granted, if I didn’t work with him daily I would have probably lost my shit.
RIP Steve
Never had a brush with a pro athlete, but I did meet John McCain at the 2012 RNC. We shook hands and he told me that he wished there were more young people like me who voted Republican. Christopher Walken also sat next to my dad at an airport terminal for about 45 minutes. My dad knew who he was, but he’s pretty serious about minding his own business, so he didn’t say anything.
Stayed at Bay Hill and drank an Arnie Palmer next to the man himself in the dining room. A fine moment in my life.
Saw Steven Tyler in a movie theater bathroom and asked if he dressed up for the Pitates of the Caribbean showing….we haven’t spoken since.
Pirates*
“Pilates of the Caribbean,” coming to a studio near you.
Hit on Natalie Portman at a Harvard party once in 2000 on a dare. No idea who she was at the time. Nice girl. “Hi, I’m Chris, from XXX U.” “Hi, I’m Natalie, I go here.” Blah blah blah. I’m not a brunette guy and it was early so I didn’t press my luck. Did get a “bye Chris, have a great night” when she was leaving which made my buddies (who knew who she was) freak out.
I had the pleasure of meeting Ernie Johnson after game 2 of the 2012 Western Conference Finals. My buddy and I stuck around and watched them finish up Inside the NBA. Once they finished the show, Shaq, Kenny, and Charles immediately left but Ernie stuck around taking pictures and talking with fans for a good half hour. He’s one of the most nicest and down to earth guys you’ll ever meet.
I interned at a pro tennis tournament and met most of the big timers. Federer? He is as smooth as his tennis game. Wawrinka is the kind of guy who would go to the local happy hour and get shit-faced with you. Serena is a huge C U Next Tuesday. Fuck that bitch.
’94 at Wrigley during warmups Mark Grace handed me a ball. ’98 Western Open at Cog Hill Got a fist pump from Tiger. ’99 Fort Lauderdale airport got an autograph from The Rock in a Hawaiian shirt. ’06 got a pic with Erin Andrews court side before a bball game. Each event is as vivid as if they were yesterday.