My very first "encounter" wasn't really an encounter at all. . . 1971: My mom is pregnant with my youngest sister. I'm 8, about to turn 9. My mom is at the gynecologist, and also pregnant at the time is Marty Pattin's wife. The ladies in the doctor's office are all excited about a Brewer in their midst. Pattin signs a deckle edge Brewer postcard to me and it is my first sports autograph. A few years later, maybe 1977 or so, my neighborhood friends and I are playing in the yard. It's the all-star break, and they get word that Robin Yount is playing golf at Brookfield Hills Golf Course. Our neighborhood included Post Road, which runs parallel to the 7th hole. Yount and his group (including another player, I'm thinking Darold Knowles of the A's?) approach the green, when 4 or 5 of us come scampering out of the woods, running up to the green to get autographs. Yount couldn't be nicer, we got autographs from his group, though there was one guy who claimed not to be a player, and likely wasn't, so we didn't get his autograph. Then a few years ago at a signing in New Jersey, none other than Gary Sheffield was the absolute nicest guy in the room. He signed long after his time was over, and he was also one of the most affordable sigs. There were probably 15 guys signing that day, and Sheffield was terrific, posing for pictures, telling stories, talking with kids. . .I was dumbfounded, as that is so contrary to the image that many of us have.