Fred Bowen's "The Score" column,
August 24, 2001, Washington Post

May You Have Her Autograph? Maybe Not.

Soccer superstar Mia Hamm was in the news last week. Hamm, however, wasn't making headlines for scoring goals for the Washington Freedom.

Hamm made the papers just for being at Camden Yards to watch a baseball game between the Baltimore Orioles and the Boston Red Sox.

You see, someone told The Washington Post that Hamm was less than overjoyed when kids came up to her for autographs during the game.

One eyewitness said, "There was one shy 10-year old girl, and Hamm couldn't even manage a smile for her. It just broke my heart."

The article caused people to tell more stories about Hamm. They described times when Hamm has been nice, and not so nice, to kids asking for her autograph.

Now, usually I take the fans' side in arguments with millionaire athletes. Especially when the fans happen to be kids. But this time I have to say, "Give Mia Hamm a break."

I know it's the fans who pay for the tickets that pay for the superstars' big salaries. I know millions of little girls (and boys) think Hamm is a hero and have Mia Hamm posters on their bedroom walls.

And I think that professional athletes should be better about making themselves available, before and after games, to sign autographs, especially for kids.

But just being a big Mia Hamm fan doesn't give kids (or adults) the right to walk up to her anytime they choose and ask for her autograph.

After all, Hamm was at Camden Yards to watch a baseball game.

She is supposed to be good buddies with Red Sox star shortstop Nomar Garciaparra. If kids ask her for autographs at times like that, they can't expect her to be all smiles. In fact, they can't even expect to get her autograph.

The whole dustup about Mia Hamm reminds me of a story that my mother told me while I was visiting her during my summer vacation this year. My mom is 82 years old. She sometimes can't remember where she put her glasses, but she remembers clearly the day that she and my father were riding in an elevator in a New York City hotel more than 50 years ago.

Who should walk into the elevator but New York Yankee superstar slugger Joe DiMaggio. Believe me, Mia Hamm may be a big deal these days, but no one -- and I mean no one -- was a bigger deal than Joe DiMaggio was in New York City in the 1940s and '50s.

Knowing that my father was a huge baseball fan, I asked, "Did you or Dad talk to him?"

"No, we just smiled and he smiled back," my mother said. Then she added, "I am sure he knew we recognized him."

"You didn't ask him for his autograph?" I asked in disbelief, sensing that my family's one encounter with a true baseball immortal was gone forever.

"No," my mother said, shaking her head firmly. "A person like Joe DiMaggio is entitled to his privacy."

Seems to me that Mom got it right. A person like Joe DiMaggio is entitled to his privacy. And the same goes for Mia Hamm.

Fred Bowen is the author of sports novels for kids. Write to him at KidsPost, The Washington Post, 1150 15th Street, NW 20071, or email (with "The Score" in the subject field) at kidspost@washpost.com.

© 2001 The Washington Post Company