It's OK to Meet Your Heroes

People often warn you to never meet your heroes because you'll likely be disappointed. As a general rule, it probably works. Heroes tend to be famous and with fame and fortune, a healthy detachment from reality is a strong possibility. Despite this making intuitive sense, I've always been a bit skeptical. Maybe because the hero I've looked up to more than any other since I was a kid has the reputation for being as down-to-earth as they come.

I've written before about how much Don Mattingly meant to me growing up. So much so, that recently I made a promise to myself that if the opportunity to meet him ever arises, I should do it at any cost. Well, I stumbled upon that opportunity by way of a massive Yankee autograph show that happened in North Jersey earlier this month. As a person who has never paid for an autograph before, the price seemed high, but if that's what it took to meet Donnie, so be it.

As my excitement grew, I planned on accomplishing two things with the brief moment I'd have to meet Mr. Mattingly. First, I'd have him sign his chapter in this book I wrote, hoping he wouldn't mind too much being the reserve first baseman behind Lou Gehrig. Next, I would give him a copy of the same book, inscribed and signed by yours truly, hoping that a gift to the athlete doesn't break any unwritten rules of these autograph shows. With two books in hand, I was ready to cross a major item off my bucket list.

The first thing I learned upon arrival was that when you get 50 or so former Yankees in the same room to sign autographs, A LOT of people show up. The line to pick up the tickets I already bought was wrapped around the entire venue. The incredulous comments from folks who were clearly veterans of these kinds of shows was comforting (I wasn't crazy), but made it no less frustrating. Once inside the venue, I realized that like Chubbs Peterson told Happy Gilmore, we'd only just begun.

The ratio of people to space at the show was astronomically high. The room was filled with eager, anxious Yankee fans standing shoulder to shoulder and this wasn't helped at all by the lack of organization. Nobody knew where to go or what exactly was happening at any given moment. As best I could tell, things were running about two hours behind. My hope was that they would get things back on track by the time Mattingly was due to start signing at 12:45. Hope, it turned out, was a poor plan.

I got to the general area where people were queueing up for autographs just before Mattingly's scheduled time. For the next 4 hours I stood roughly in the same spot, perpetually getting bumped into, and observing loud frustrations of hundreds of people. By the time I reached the subqueue for the Mattingly table, it felt good just to have my legs moving. As I got closer, I could tell that he was every bit the mensch that he seems from a distance. He made eye contact with every fan that came through, listened to what they had to say, and provided a brief, thoughtful response. One fan noted that he was at Yankee Stadium for Mattingly's lone career postseason home run and commented on how it felt like the whole place shook. Don smiled, concurred with the assessment and took a jab at himself, saying "I actually felt fast." Then it was my turn.

For the next 40 seconds or so, I was a 10-year old kid again. Nervous as hell, I told Mr. Mattingly that I wrote a book on Yankee legends and that he was in it. As I opened to his chapter, he commented with a smile, "that's awesome," and he seemed at least a little bit surprised that he wasn't about to sign just another bat, ball, or picture. While he signed, I told him that when I was a kid he, more than anybody, showed me that you can be a quiet person and an effective leader at the same time. I expressed my appreciation for that as it's served me well all these years later. With another smile, he said something along the lines of, "that's great to hear, thank you."

Still as nervous as a 10-year old meeting his hero for the first time, I slid the inscribed book for Donnie across the table and told him that it was my gift to him. Genuinely surprised this time, he said, "that's fantastic, man, thanks." He then graciously granted my request for a picture together. Before I walked away I told him again how much I appreciated him and extended my hand for one of the firmest hand shakes I've ever been on the other end of. With nerves still jittering, I got the hell out of there as fast as I could to tell my wife and kids all about it.

The wait may have been ridiculous, the circumstances less than ideal, and the encounter entirely too brief, but what I got in meeting Donnie Baseball face-to-face was exactly what I expected. He was humble, engaging, and every bit the perfect gentleman that he seemed to be on the baseball field. I was even able to give him a book I wrote that includes a chapter dedicated entirely to him. Ten-year old me couldn't have dreamed it up better.

It's OK to meet your dad's heroes too

There was a silver lining to all the waiting I did prior to meeting The Hit Man. While roaming around the venue trying to figure out what was going on, I noticed a familiar face at a vendor table and made my way over to it. We made eye contact and I said, "Roy White?" The familiar face smiled wide and nodded. I told him he was my dad's favorite player and he brushed right by that because he was seriously concerned that I was wearing a Red Sox hat. Once I proved to him that it was actually a Yankees hat the smile returned to his face.

As I awkwardly stood there in silence for a few seconds I realized that I was holding two copies of a book I wrote that included a chapter on the man that was sitting right next to me. So, I told him about it. As he thumbed through it, the guy that was selling stuff at the table said that Mr. White would sign anything I had for $20. I asked him if he wouldn't mind signing his chapter and with an even bigger smile and a laugh he said, "Sure, I'm the cheapest autograph you'll get today." It's amazing to me how overlooked he still is, even by Yankee fans, but of course this doesn't seem to bother him at all.

I knew I had a $20 bill on me somewhere, and while fumbling through my pockets to find it, Mr. White continued flipping through the book. He perked up a little when he saw that Bernie Williams was also included in it (the chapter right before his), and that seemed to validate for him that the book was probably OK. He signed, I snagged a quick picture, we shook hands, I thanked him profusely, and with that the oldest living Yankee legend became the first player to sign my book.

Even though I started this adventure with the sole purpose of meeting Don Mattingly, my serendipitous encounter with Roy White made me realize that I should broaden my horizons. By my count, there are 17 living All-Time All-Stars that were featured in the book and with signatures from Mattingly and White I only have 15 to go. Nine of those 15 were at this autograph show, but given the wait times and price tag for some of those signatures I'm not exactly kicking myself. With some better planning and hopefully some better organization at shows like this in the future, my new goal of getting all 17 to sign the book should be within reach. Excelsior!