In Scoring of Autograph Clarity, Palmer Gets an Eagle and McIlroy a Bogey
By THE ASSOCIATED PRESS
Arnold Palmer reached for a pen and paper, and for a moment, he went back in time to the first grade.
“My first year in grade school, my teacher was a lady by the name of Rita Taylor,” Palmer said. “The blackboard around the room had ‘The Palmer Method of Writing,’ and that was the system with which we were taught to write.”
Palmer did not invent the popular method of teaching cursive. Among athletes, he perfected it.
Pen in hand, he moved his right arm in a slow, circular motion for several seconds, as if rehearsing. Then, he started writing what has become one of the most famous autographs in sports. Even at 83, Palmer makes sure every fan can read his name. And like so many other aspects of his golfing career, his influence spans generations.
“I’ve always heard you need to make it legible, and I try to do that,” Tim Clark said as he signed for fans behind the railing at Doral this spring. He used lowercase for his entire name, and it was as clear as could be.
Where did he hear this advice? “Arnold Palmer,” he said.
Tiger Woods has a distinctive style with his autograph, perhaps not as legible as Palmer’s, but easily recognizable. He signs his name with the same penmanship he would use to write a letter, and if you pay close attention, there is this idiosyncrasy in the way he does it — he always dots the “i” in his name.
The Masters, which begins Thursday, is not the best place for fans to collect autographs. Augusta National limits requests to a designated area near the practice range and during the Par 3 Tournament. There are no autographs allowed on the golf course. A prized possession, however, is a yellow Masters flag signed by players.
The question is whether anyone can read the names. The example set by Palmer, Jack Nicklaus, Byron Nelson, Ben Hogan and many others has not carried over to this generation.
Look at any flag filled with player autographs and try to figure out who they are. Some players sign. Most just scribble.
“I’ve never enjoyed trying to figure out who’s who,” Phil Mickelson said. “When you play on a Ryder Cup team and a name is missing, and I can’t figure out any of them that are actually on the flag, there’s no way to find out who’s missing. That’s always frustrating. It’s just showing respect, whether it’s for fans or whoever you’re signing for.”
Padraig Harrington and the Honda Classic winner Michael Thompson figured this out.
For more than a decade, Harrington’s signature looked as if it belonged on a doctor’s prescription. To say it was illegible would be a compliment. The “P” and the “H” could barely be detected. Otherwise, it looked like the ink stamp from a chicken claw.
And then he won the British Open at Carnoustie.
“Up to that, I always signed my name as I would sign a check,” Harrington said. “My caddie gave me a lecture after I won the Open. He said if he was a little kid and asked me for my autograph, and that’s what he got, he’d be very disappointed.”
Harrington took that to heart. He now signs his full name, a style similar to Palmer’s.
Rory McIlroy still has a lot of room for improvement.
His signature is a series of loops that are as curly as his hair. It is difficult to decipher the “R” or the “M” or even what language it is. A girl with an oversize foam golf ball at the Houston Open proudly showed her autographs. There were Steve Stricker, Justin Leonard and Mickelson. And then she gleefully said McIlroy had signed it.
Where?
She pointed to a bunch of loops. “I think he signed it upside down,” she said.
Mickelson is a master of autographs, signing for up to an hour after his round, though he has started to cut back as he gets older and has other obligations.
“I’ve got so many letters that it’s hard to make every one meticulous,” Mickelson said. “I do the best I can to make sure you know whose it is, but I still have to make it somewhat quick, too.”
Ian Poulter, as is his way, wanted some style. He finishes writing his name with a big loop that becomes a circle, and then he draws a hole and a flagstick in the middle of the loop.
“If you look at people’s signatures through the years, some you can read and most you can’t,” Poulter said. “And if you make something a little different, identifiable with the name, everybody knows what signature it is. Everyone knows my autograph.”
And then there’s John Daly, who has three autographs: one for children, another if he detects the fan wants to sell it and a third for personal items.
“It’s totally different on legal stuff,” he said. “I’ll do ‘John P. Daly.’ For autographs I know they’re going to sell, I scribble. It’s the ugliest signature you’ll ever see, and they can’t sell those.
“But for kids,” Daly said, stopping to sign for a young boy at Innisbrook, “that was a beautiful signature.”
AI
