January 21, 2010
Earlier this week I received a letter in the mail. It was from somewhere in the Northeast. From a middle school "student" who collects autographs of former World Football League players. It was typed in a nice form letter and included two unlined index cards.
The gist of the letter, The young girl wanted me to sign two autographs. This is the third time I have received such a letter. The first two came in a span of about a three months back in the summer.
The compassionate, caring, naive side of me was flattered. I did some research when the first arrived. I discovered that there was person with my name, who played in the WFL and, as best I could determine, lived in North Carolina at one time. Maybe still does.
I understand collecting autographs. I did it as a kid too. I still have autographs of ballplayers like Joe Namath, John Riggins, Pee Wee Reese, George Brett, Jim Rice and Craig Nettles to name a few.
But I don't understanding wanting an autograph from a guy in a defunct league that nobody has ever heard off.
That got my cynical side thinking that this was some elaborate scam to steal my identity. Boy, if they only knew me, they'd probably be more than willing to keep their own.
I debated trying to contact the real "me" who played in the WFL, and I even considered typing up a nice letter to tell my new "fan" to inform them of the case of mistaken identity.
But I didn't. I chose a simpler solution. I tore the letter up and threw it in the trash. I did the same thing with the next two letter. I guess, in sports terms, you can call that my signature move.