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My fantastic sign: Put these fans in Hall of Fame

Mark Herrmann

7:16 PM EST, February 16, 2008

There ought to be a way to acknowledge the fan who summarized M. Donald Grant's sad era as Mets impresario by standing at Shea Stadium and holding up a neatly printed placard that read, "WELCOME TO GRANT'S TOMB." There ought to be a way to honor the likes of the late Sign Man Karl Ehrhardt, our own enduring way of saying, "THANKS!" There ought to be a Hall of Fame for fans. Ehrhardt, a commercial artist from Queens who died last week at 83, would be a cinch first-ballot inductee.

The thought occurred to this observer in reading the obituary last week for Ehrhardt, with whom I talked over the seasons and whom I profiled 15 years ago. If only there were somewhere to enshrine his fandom, to recall his professionally produced signs such as "YOU GOTTA RELIEVE" and "WHAT FOOLS WE METS FANS BE."

To Dana A. Brand, the Hofstra professor who published the book "Mets Fan," Ehrhardt really was the first Mets blogger, decades before there was such a thing. Cardboard and paint were his Web site. Brand, on his own blog this past week, wrote, "Being a Mets fan back then was very interactive. We didn't just sit there and do what they told us. We talked back to the Mets. With signs. With words. We were an articulate mob. And Karl Ehrhardt was our leader." Tony Negron of Brentwood, himself a nominee for the Fans Hall of Fame (more on that later), said: "I grew up a Mets fan. We knew all about the Sign Man."

Ehrhardt, at least before he became embittered with Mets management and threw away most of his signs, was the epitome of a Hall of Fame Fan. He became famous not because he wanted to be but because he just couldn't help it. Passion for his team just spilled into the mainstream.

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The same can be said about Hilda Chester with the Brooklyn Dodgers, The Chief for the Rangers, Fireman Ed for the Jets. Spike Lee worked his way up, or actually down, from the upper deck to celebrity row at Knicks games.

Bill Hayes never missed an Islanders home game between their first season in 1972 and 2002. How about renowned architect Peter Eisenman, a Giants season-ticket holder for 51 years who poured his love for the game into the design of the stadium in which his beloved team won Super Bowl XLII?

You could make a case for Rudy Giuliani as a Hall of Fame Yankees Fan, although I'd vote first for the Bleacher Creatures en masse because they changed the tone at the Stadium by inventing the roll call -- so compelling that the players stop what they're doing and acknowledge it.

A Hall of Fame Fan has some distinction, and adds to the ambience. Most important, the Hall of Fame Fan realizes above all that the whole thing is supposed to be fun.

Ehrhardt's needle was gentle. After Steve Hamilton left the Bronx and made his first appearance at Shea with the Giants, it was, "YANKEE GO HOME." Of Ed Kranepool's at-bat during a slump, it was, "MISSION IMPOSSIBLE."

Carve it in stone. Put Ehrhardt in our Hall. Make room, too, for folks who love to watch amateurs. If Negron isn't in for his devotion to local wrestling, then there's no such thing as a Hall of Famer.

The 45-year-old never had a wrestling career because he was disoriented about coming from a broken home. But years later, he got to talking with a local national-class wrestler, agreed to pay half the kid's fare to a big tournament, went to watch and was hooked.

"This is a true story," he said Friday before heading to the Suffolk high school championships. "I fly out to Reno to see Brentwood in the Reno Tournament of Champions. I pay for the hotel." But he couldn't get close to the action at the arena. "I see guys sitting at a table, security guys. I say, 'Word is, they need extra security.' One guy says, 'OK, go over there and grab a shirt.' I wind up on the floor, controlling traffic."

Organizers have hired him at national tournaments ever since. Now that is a fan. He became part of the fabric, as Ehrhardt did. The Sign Man was way ahead of his time. Eleven years before Al Michaels made his famous Olympics call, Ehrhardt raised a sign that read, "BELIEVE IN MIRACLES?"

Sad to say, Ehrhardt probably was right when he told me in 1993: "My stuff wouldn't work anymore. You have to compete with the electric scoreboard and all that."

Nevertheless, there's a sign of the times that never goes out of season: Fans are not the stars, but there's no show without them.