Autograph seekers can be just as bad as athletes who refuse to sign.

What's in a name?

Quite a bit, apparently, if it's scrawled on a piece of paper that Tom Hanks couldn't even decipher in "Angels and Demons."

The pursuit of celebrity autographs was at the forefront of sports talk radio this week, as folks weighed in on the Alex Rios affair.

In a piece of video widely viewed on YouTube, Rios can be seen rebuffing a young fan's autograph request while leaving a charity dinner hosted by his very own team, the Toronto Blue Jays.

Without a doubt, the best part of the Candid Camera routine was a verbal jab delivered by an adult fan who witnessed the Rios snub.

"The way you played today, Alex, you should be lucky somebody wants your autograph."

Considering Rios had struck out five times that day in a loss to the Angels, the comment was a little below the belt. However, you have to admit it was also kind of funny.

Rios, of course, didn't see it that way and dropped a number of "F" bombs on the Don Rickles-wannabe, something the right fielder later apologized for. Unfortunately, Rios issued no apology for the hole in his bat, and since his blowup he's gone 5-for-24 at the plate while watching his batting average dip to .261.

It goes without saying that Rios was wrong to launch into a Tourette-style tantrum, and he could have taken a second to sign for the kid.

But the Rios rhubarb raises an interesting question:

What's the big deal about getting a celebrity's autograph in the first place?

As a kid, it never really dawned on me to ask for autographs. I remember watching a Vancouver Canucks-Minnesota North Stars exhibition game at the old Stampede Corral in Calgary. The legendary Gump Worsley wasn't between the pipes for the Stars that night and was sitting a few rows behind me. A bunch of kids pestered Worsley for his signature, but I stayed in my seat thinking that Gump probably just wanted to watch the game.

In fact, the only autograph I ever tracked down on my own came from the pen of a baseball player few people have even heard of.

John (Boom Boom) Self was an African-American first baseman who played some minor league ball in the St. Louis Cardinals organization, before finishing his career with a senior team in Calgary.

Growing up in Alberta in the early '70s, we weren't used to seeing very many black people and when our Little League team took in a senior tilt one night, Boom Boom was an immediate hit.

All through the contest, we stood up and screamed "Boom Boom's the Best!" every time he came to the plate. Boom Boom wanted to get us a hit so bad that he tried too hard and wound up 0-for-5. But as he apologized for his performance after the game, he made sure to sign each and every one of our souvenir programs.

The truth is, however, that I've long since lost Boom Boom's signature and to be honest, our brief infatuation with the man seemed to mean a lot more to him than it did to us.

Unlike Boom Boom, big name athletes sign a million autographs and many of them loathe the process.

When Mickey Mantle was bashing baseballs for the New York Yankees in the '50s and '60s, he was flooded with mailed items that fans wanted him to sign. Eventually, Mantle grew tired of the exercise and some of his former teammates have since revealed that they often used their pens to pinch-hit for Mickey.

So, if you own a piece of autographed Mantle memorabilia, you might want to have it authenticated, just in case it was actually signed by Joe Pepitone.

Understanding that most athletes don't invest much emotion when giving Joe Fan their John Henry, it's difficult to figure out why so many people engage in autograph hunts. In fact, at times it appears that fans will settle for any old chicken scratch just as long as they get another notch on their belt and another name in their book.

Covering the Calgary Flames in the late '80s and early '90s, the media was forced to exit the Saddledome via the same doors as the players.

Rushing back to the television station with a video tape full of post-game interviews, I was regularly stopped by autograph hounds waiting for the Flames, and out of sheer boredom, they'd often ask me to sign.

"Are you crazy?" I'd ask. "You've got autographs of Lanny McDonald and Al MacInnis on your poster. It could be worth big bucks one day and if I sign, it'll go for about 20 cents."

Despite such solid economic rationale, a lot of people were still willing to have me deface their property and to avoid the embarrassing requests, I started taking the long way around to get to the parking lot.

Athletes, however, aren't so lucky. If they dodge the signature seekers, players are labeled as "bums" who've "forgotten where they came from."

(Once again, you can check out the infamous Rios YouTube run-in for evidence.)

But in many cases, athletes just can't win. For example, I've witnessed superstars such as Wayne Gretzky hold up the team bus in an attempt to accommodate as many autograph requests as possible, only to hear people grumble about being left out by The Great One when he's finally been forced to leave.

Unless you're an autograph shark who's trying to get four or five items signed to peddle on the open market, most players are usually pretty approachable. But they're also taught to keep moving when they sign so they don't get bogged down by a horde of humanity, a scenario that doesn't lead to a lot of warm and fuzzy contact and tends to be demeaning for both the autographer and the autographee.

I recall another situation that occurred years ago at the Calgary airport.

The Flames were just returning from losing a playoff series the season after capturing the 1989 Stanley Cup and fans were feeling sympathetic towards their heroes.

Dressed in a reporter's suit, and a whole lot younger back then, I was mistaken for one of the players by a woman who asked me to pose for a picture with her son.

Thinking it was hilarious, I swung my arm around the kid's shoulder as we both said "Cheese!"

"Thanks a lot," said the lady. "And by the way, which player are you?"

"Why, I'm Bobby Orr," I replied. "I'm surprised you didn't recognize me."

The woman and her son, who obviously weren't huge hockey fans, went away happy but I always wondered about their reaction if they happened to catch a TV sportscast.

"Hey!" I imagined them saying. "That guy isn't Bobby Orr…he's just some lousy broadcaster."

But even if Orr himself had posed for a photo, what was the point?

It would have been just another celebrity photo celebrating a phony relationship.

Alex Rios is in the same boat.

Sure, you can pester him for an autograph.

But you'll never know the person behind the pen, and a hurried signature on a scrap of paper isn't going to change that one bit.