Yesterday, Tyler Kepner wrote a well-illustrated piece on the changing quality of autographs for the New York Times.
Baseball fans still clamor for autographs — as keepsakes, commodities or both. But today’s treasures have little of the elegance of those that came before. A recognizable signature, let alone an artful one, now seems as quaint as a Sunday doubleheader.
“Fans say, ‘Can you put your number on there?’ ” said Javier Lopez, a reliever for the San Francisco Giants. “Because there’s no chance they can read them.”
Check out “In an Era of Squiggles, You Can’t Tell the Players Without a Handwriting Analyst,” then let me know which current player has the best & worst autograph.
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Funny, I just finished reading this article about ten minutes ago. We’ve become a very sloppy culture, in so many ways.
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Jose Bautista has a gorgeous signature, with every letter visible, depending on the card background. I love how Scott Diamond turns the ‘D’ in his name into a diamond. Other nice ones in my collection are minor leaguers Eric Arce and Brandon Meredith. Going outside baseball, NBAer Doron Lamb’s is perfect cursive.
Worst: Probably Anthony Gose. You’re lucky if you can make out one letter in the name.
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Autographs were cool when I was a kid.
Now, as a jaded adult and, as it’s difficult to tell the authenticity of sports memorabilia with a lot of it being fake, I don’t care whether some guy’s signature looks legible or like an EKG.
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About ten years ago, former MLB hurler Jerry Reuss was the Binghamton Mets’ pitching coach. He graciously signed several old Topps cards for me. His signature, in clear, flowing cursive script, was identical to the facsimiles on some of the cards. When I complimented him and asked him if he also was a product of Catholic schools, Reuss let out a loud chuckle. So that’s one of several such memories of great penmanship, as acquired at the hand railing of ballparks.
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