Suzanne Molino Singleton, The Examiner
2007-10-30 07:00:00.0
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BALTIMORE -

You spot an average Joe walking down the street, except his name is Cal, as in Cal Ripken Jr. You can’t believe your good fortune, or your chump luck not having a baseball. You nudge your kid. “Guess who that is,” you say as you frantically search for a scrap of paper.

But how to grab Ripken’s attention? You want that autograph! Should you touch his arm? Call his name? Offer a handshake?

Ripken said plenty of fans fumble words out of nervousness. It amuses him when he hears, “You’re my biggest fan,” when someone means the other way around. Once he calms them with his gentle demeanor, they usually straighten out to express themselves more effectively.

What’s the best way to approach a player? Most people react without thinking, said Sandy Unitas, wife of the late Johnny Unitas. Her pet peeve formed while dining out.

“We’d be sitting there, and someone would obviously recognize him,” Sandy Unitas said, “but they’d sit there. Then right when they served John his food, a fan would decide to approach him.

“Wait until an approachable time,” she said. “Don’t just run up and start talking. ... Be considerate of the people he’s with.”

Sandy Unitas said her husband became irritated when a fan approached him during their kids’ sports. “He was there as a father, not as a celebrity,” she said. “He didn’t like anyone talking to him while he was watching a game, including me!”

Fans may claim the attention comes with the territory, yet any territory has its boundaries.

A hospital staff member asked my husband, Ken, for an autograph while I was in labor. Last summer, a Yankees fan followed us up the street in Little Italy and wanted No. 29 to follow the guy to a restaurant to meet his friends.

Once while furniture shopping, a sales rep went over the top after Ken walked in the store, screaming and shouting his name. She ran to her desk to yell into the phone, “You’ll never believe who’s here!”

Living close to Los Angeles, Janice Murray, wife of former Oriole Eddie Murray, said so many stars and athletes are in sight, most people don’t give them the time of day. “It’s great out here,” she said. “No one bothers him. He can even go to get groceries.”

Yet one “how not to approach” incident stands out in her memory. She and Eddie were leaving a game. “Some woman wanted Eddie’s picture,” Murray said. “She shooed me out of the way and said, ‘Oh no, not you, honey.’ That was kind of rude. There was a different way to do that. Maybe if that lady had been nicer, I would have offered to take the picture.”

Murray has witnessed women asking her husband to sign their T-shirts, maybe a tad too close to you-know-what.

“That’s just sleazy,” she said. There are many good stories, too. “The kids are polite. ... Adults are the ones.”

Brooks Robinson said 99 percent of fans are “wonderful” and respect his privacy. “I’ve always enjoyed people. I accept it; it’s part of the deal.”

Most are timid in approaching the third-base golden glove, but occasionally they cross the line. “Sitting on the airplane, some guy wanted to bend my ear between Baltimore and Los Angeles. ... He wanted to talk and talk and talk, and I couldn’t get rid of him. Connie [Mrs. Robinson] was with me.”

Then there’s the restaurant fan who talks for 20 minutes while the Robinsons are eating. “That’s crossing the line,” he said. “But I’ve been around for so long, I can spot someone who wants an autograph. Some look at me and say, ‘You’re Johnny Unitas!’”

He shared Unitas’ story about a guy in a bar who knew Unitas was an athlete but was incorrect with the name. “You’re Brooks Robinson,” he repeatedly insisted. Unitas had to pull out his billfold to prove otherwise.

Suzanne Molino Singleton is a freelance writer and a reporter for The Catholic Review. She and husband, former Orioles outfielder Ken Singleton, reside in Baltimore County.