Adam Carolla's story on how Kareem was a real dick in refusing a kid's request for a autograph reminds me of a similar story.
In 1980 or 1981, a Dave Kingman at bat was one of the few reasons anyone would watch a Met game. He would hit moonshots. Or strikeout on a pitch over his head or at his toes. There was no middle ground with King Kong.
So one day after a game Baldman and his pals ran into Kingman right outside the Met clubhouse. They were face to face with King Kong. And they did what all kids would do in that situation: they asked him for his autograph.
And 30 years later, Baldman still remembers Kingman's response:
Not tonight guys, my shoulder hurts.
His shoulder hurts? We just saw him hit a baseball beyond the Shea bullpen and into the parking lot.
He was fucking with us. And he knew it, and we knew it, and he knew that we knew it.
And he could care less.
What a twisted thing to do.
Years later, when I read that he sent a female sportswriter a package that contained a live rat, I have to say it was not a shock-not at all.