The Hero

Ozzie Smith was a hero of mine throughout my childhood.  I loved baseball and honored Ozzie by wearing his signature series glove.  Every time I played, I would look down in my mitt and see his autograph.

I dreamed of playing for the Cardinals someday, as most kids from the  St. Louis area probably did.

Ozzie Smith, The Asshole

The Cardinal Caravan was in my hometown when I was about 12 years old. My dad bought my little brother and I tickets to the autograph session with Ozzie and various other Cardinals.  It doesn’t get any cooler than that in small town southern Illinois.

My little brother, who was five years old at the time, drew Ozzie a picture of him doing his famous backflip.  He had to give you a little explanation to notice all the details, but it was pretty amazing for a 5 year old. Needless to say he was excited, too.

We got in line, waiting our turn.  My eyes never left Ozzie Smith.  I was in shock that he was really sitting a few feet away from me.  I had never really considered that the players ever left the stadium and dressed in clothes other than their uniform.

While watching him sign his autograph for a few minutes, I innocently asked my dad, “Why does he keep switching pens while signing his autograph, dad?”.

Our dad had purchased two official national league baseballs and plastic cases just for Ozzie’s autograph.  I handed him my baseball and watched him sign, he signed “Ozzie”, switched pens, then “Smith”.

My little brother handed him his baseball after showing him the picture he had worked so hard creating for Mr Smith.  He signed “Ozzie”, switched pens again and finished “Smith”. We thanked him and moved on.

The Greedy Man

Ozzie, at the time, had his own restaurant and a contract for selling his autographed baseballs.  He wouldn’t sign the sweet spot of the ball, but that was no big deal.  I never intended to sell this memory. Neither did my 5 year old brother. It was going to be a story to tell and supposed to be a positive childhood memory of meeting our sports hero.

A few months later, “Smith” on one ball began to fade and “Ozzie” on the other.  It became clear that something was wrong.  The inks are different colors, one brownish, the other a navy color.  Over time, even though the balls were kept in a dry case and rarely exposed to light, they continued to fade.

Maybe I’m jumping to some unforeseen conclusion, but it sure does feel like he deliberately sabotaged this memory for my five year old brother and I, not to mention another hundred or so kids in attendance that day.

Wouldn’t want to dilute the Ozzie Smith autograph market, would we?

Sad.