For Noël Ummels, the fascination with autographs is a mystery, especially for adults. That’s why he’s decided to auction his own for charity, as he discusses in his column.
What’s the big deal about autographs? I’ve never understood it. From part-time jobs to full-time positions as Formula 1 drivers, contracts are sealed with a scribble at the bottom. We may chuckle when illiterate people put a cross there, but in reality, such a scribble hardly makes a difference. It’s slightly harder to forge, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be done. Ask any school administrator, and they’ll tell you how often students are absent with their parents’ “official” approval. Yet, an autograph is legally binding.
The Allure of Autographs
Another thing I don’t understand about autographs is their appeal. What do you want with a Formula 1 driver’s scribble? Unless you’re crafty enough to have them unknowingly sign a contract that obligates them to transfer all their earnings to your bank account. Or is it proof that you’ve come closer to god than the majority of humanity? That you’re not averaging a handful of handshakes with the world’s elite, but just one? Our staff photographer, to whom I wish good health from this platform, once told me he was practically stalked by someone who was infatuated with Damon Hill. When he confirmed that he had indeed been within a meter of Hill, the stalker sighed, ‘Then you are a fortunate person’.
The Overrated Art of Autographs and the Fame Game
The signature: the most overrated fruit of the pen since the invention of writing. And yet, there are autograph hunters. Before the advent of mass media – from radio to television to the internet – you became famous because you had a talent: you were a prominent scientist, artist, or explorer. Now, you become famous just by appearing on TV or going viral. Fame for the sake of fame. If you ask him, Max Verstappen will wholeheartedly agree: I am just a human being. In fact, he wishes he could be left alone, unhindered on the streets from Monaco to Tokyo. But no, always those autograph hunters. And don’t be silly, a selfie should also be possible, right?
Memories of Autograph Hunting
In connection with a move, I am throwing away three-quarters of my clutter. And what do I come across? Autographs! Mind you, collected not as an adult but as a teenager. On the circuits of Zolder and Zandvoort in the ’80s, there were tests where you could easily penetrate into the pit lane. Grumpy because I disturbed him, my idol Nelson Piquet scribbled something on paper. His arch-rival and therefore also my enemy Ayrton Senna was much friendlier when I also asked him for a scribble. Together with those of Didier Pironi, Elio de Angelis, and Stefan Bellof, the only autographs I own from drivers who have fallen in the line of duty.
Autographs for a Good Cause
I am moving and want to get rid of them. Who will bid for a good cause, namely a Filipino family who has been robbed of father (vegetative state from forty-plus) and mother (dead at forty-plus)? Scribbles from old heroes Ayrton Senna, Didier Pironi, Elio de Angelis, Stefan Bellof, Jacques Laffite, Riccardo Patrese, Chico Serra, Patrick Tambay, René Arnoux, Derek Warwick, Nelson Piquet, Andrea de Cesaris, Eddie Cheever, Bruno Giacomelli, Stefan Johansson, Thierry Boutsen, Niki Lauda, Jacky Ickx, Jean-Pierre Jabouille, Brian Henton, Alain Prost, Keke Rosberg, Johnny Cecotto, Martin Brundle, Mario Andretti, Derek Daly, Carlos Reutemann, Jochen Mass, Jonathan Palmer, Alan Jones, and of course our own Jan Lammers.
They are just scraps, but they seem to be of value.
