Examples of lousy parenting

This past weekend, the Missus and I, along with Madge and Madgette (see Madge and a Half for more details) went to Astros Fanfest. Fanfest, while a tad pricey, can be a lot of fun. Among the things they have are autograph sessions with the entire team (minus the starting pitcher and catcher for the exhibition game played later that day). In order to minimize the insanity around the likes of Lance Berkman and Roy Oswalt, the team limits the number of people who can get in line by selling a certain number of vouchers for each autograph group. Wristbands for the vouchers are distributed at 5 a.m. the morning of the event, so if you want a star, you'd better get there early.

I don't know what this says about us, but we did. In fact, we now have jerseys autographed by both Berkman and Oswalt, as well as Craig Biggio's signature on my Hall of Fame bat with 9 other guys enshrined in Cooperstown, but that's another story. This issue has to do with the jerks who had their kids out in line before we got there.

Don't get me wrong; a lot of those folks were out there because their kids wanted to be there. Some of them, however, were out there using their kids to make a buck.

In a way, I'm ashamed to admit I'm a collector of sports memorabilia because a lot of collectors have no dignity, no shame and will do anything to get a signature. And, for some reason, they like to bitch. About everything.

Sellers are even worse, since they have all the flaws of the hard-core collector and then turn around and sell the stuff at a 75% increase. For all intents and purposes, most of them are scum.

How scummy? Scummy enough that they'll have their kids out there in line at midnight the night before so they can get another autographed item.

To be fair, I didn't see this a single time at Fanfest. I saw it about two dozen times. My age had their daughters, who were five or six, in line with them. They were drilling them on who they were going to get to autograph a certain thing, then they were to come back and give it to daddy. Then they were to run to the other side of the stadium, get in line for another group and get stuff autographed there. Then daddy dearest would sell the stuff, either then and there or on Ebay or something like that.

The first time I saw something like this was in Baltimore, when a guy had his five-year-old son stand in line to get Cal Ripken's autograph on a bat. As soon as the kid had done his duty, the dad came down, ripped the bat out of the kid's hands and acted like Santa Claus had just come to town. I was maybe 15 and it disgusted me. Now that I'm old enough to be that guy, it disgusts me even more.

I'm very proud of the stuff I have and the things Momma Pug allows me to keep around. I also believe strongly that, once I have a son (or a daughter, if she likes this crap), in autograph they get is theirs. Period, end of story. And I'm sure as hell not going to force them to do something so I can be a scumbag and make a quick buck off of their exhuastive efforts and someone's signature.

And I think parents who do can go to hell.