Memorabilia Collectors are Bitching About Tom Brady Halfassing the Autographs They Paid Thousands For

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There's nothing intrinsically wrong with wanting someone's autograph. I'm the proud owner of a few items that were either gifted to me or I bought at a charity auction. Including a framed piece of the bleachers at the old Foxboro Stadium signed by Adam Vinateri to commemorate the last points scored there, his overtime field goal in the Snow Bowl. It means something because it's on those very freezing cold slabs of aluminum my fate became forever linked to this franchise's. I've also got a signed jersey of the quarterback I saw play there most, Steve Grogan, courtesy of a generous coworker. Plus a few odds and ends like an old Pat Patriot minihelmet signed by the original artist, whom I did an appearance with. And a photo of 1967 Cy Young Award winner Jim Lonborg, who was my family dentist. And I've signed a book or two thousand. (A reminder that Father's Day is just around the corner; order yours now!). So I have no objection to keeping a conversation piece around the house that hold some special meaning to you. 

However. The whole practice of getting someone's signature brings out the absolute worst in human beings. When my kids were little I regularly took them to Patriots training camp where, at the end of practice, the team would send five or so players around the ropes to sign stuff. I'd stand back just far enough to where I could keep a safe eye on them and still be out of the way. Only to watch a 300 pound douchenozzle from Rehoboth clamor over a 5- and 11-year-old, screaming at Doug Flutie to come sign his sweat-stained hat. But even incorrigible fuckfaces like that are Nelson Mandela compared to that scourge upon the Earth, the Professional Collector.

As a matter of fact, I hate the very existence of these cancers upon humanity so much that my favorite person in tomorrow's draft is Oregon center Jackson Powers-Johnson, just because he says  that when collectors accosted him at the Senior Bowl, he signed "Turd Ferguson" on all their garbage without them realizing it. (Cued up to the 2:50 mark):

And so it was with great joy that I learned the man who has drawn the wrath of these bottom feeders is none other than my favorite athlete of all time:

Source - Tom Brady superfans who shelled out thousands for the retired NFL star’s autograph at a Miami event are outraged after they say they were left with illegible scribbles on their valuables.

But sources close to the situation insist the seven-time Super Bowl champion was just as hoodwinked by the outing as they were.

“I would have much rather him not sign it than what we got. He defaced our stuff,” complained Glen Gagnon to the memorabilia outlet cllct.com.

Gagnon was among about 100 people who forked over $3,600 for the event over the weekend where Brady fanatics were given front row seats for an address by the former quarterback and a chance to meet him. …

I'm going to interrupt here to set the record straight about one thing. These aren't "Tom Brady superfans" or "fantatics." These are businessmen. Commodity brokers. They're seeking signatures on things to sell them at a considerable markup. They are no more emotionally connected to the man signing their crap than the art dealers in Tenet were to the paintings they bought. Or that an investor in agriculture has feelings for the sorghum futures he buys. We continue:

But after the speech — during which they say the 46-year-old talked about doing your best, hard work all the time — those in attendance were left alarmed when they saw the signatures Brady had inked on their valuable items.

“Well Tom these words were motivational until we saw the lack of effort that you put in on the signatures we paid a lot of money for. $3600 isn’t cheap and to hear you preach one thing and then act completely opposite,” attendee Brad Jarrett wrote in a scathing Facebook post after the event. …

“I would have NEVER paid $3,600 to receive the signature I got today on the items I brought,” collector Greg Nazareth wrote in his own Facebook post. …

And it should come as a surprise to no one that the GOAT didn't meticulously handcraft every signature with the care and artistry of Jefferson quill-penning the final draft of the Declaration of Independence because organizers lied to him about what this event was:

“[Brady] was completely blindsided,” a source close told cllct. “This was supposed to be signatures for VIPs of the conference — not a signing for his biggest collectors.”

Brady had been told the event would include a simple signing of books and photographs, sources said, and not an official event where collectors would be able to gather authenticated autographs on valuable memorabilia. …

And buried deep in the report is what these grubby-fingered little homonculi actually got for their 3,600 bucks:

The price of the ticket was not just for the Brady meet-and-greet and autographs — it included dinner, drinks, a cruise, and a private museum tour.

So they got all these things, preceeded by something you cannot put a price tag on, a motivational speech by the most motivated person in human history. And they're bitching about the quality of his penmanship. Worse, bellyaching like they were stranded without food or water at the Fyre Festival. Or had their children's hearts broken by an empty warehouse claiming to be a whimsical tour through a magical chocolate factory:

So piss all the way off, losers. The hands that threw perfect spirals on the way 74,000 yards and 541 touchdowns and wear seven Super Bowl rings don't owe you John Hancock-level calligraphy. You got his speech. You got to be in his mighty presence. Plus dinner, drinks, a cruise and a museum tour. If that's not good enough for you, take it up with the organizers. Or find another line of work. Or go home and give careful reconsideration to all of your life's choices. Better yet, just be grateful Brady didn't rip you off the way your hero Eli Manning did:

Served them right. As long as we're talking about reconsidering things, I might have to rethink my hatred of Eli. By robbing these scumbags blind, he was on the side of the angels.