There are bones to pick. There is a profit to make.
A hero has fallen, and prices have gone up. People are grieving, and when that happens, they tend not to guard their wallets as carefully. So look sympathetic, but make change as quickly as possible.
Pat Tillman is for sale.
And operators are standing by.
Tillman would hate this. Absolutely hate this. As a nation, we did not know him well enough, or long enough. But we knew enough to know this. Tillman didn't want promotion, and he didn't want to be singled out, and he walked away from an incredible amount of money.
Certainly, in his death, he would not have wanted profiteers scrambling to make a buck from everything he had signed, everything he had touched, everything he had been during his life.
Yet, the hucksters have portioned off bits of Tillman's legacy. They have hung price tags on his memory, and they have offered them to the highest bidder. They have turned the tragedy of his death into a reason to hold a Spring Sale. After all, you have your grief, but they have their greed.
The cash registers have sounded quickly. Tillman is not yet in the ground. When you think of it, however, hasn't that always been the best time for vultures?
The selling of Pat Tillman continued Wednesday. At noon, there were 322 items listed on eBay. Since April 23, there had been an additional 1,068 put up for sale. You might think Tillman's memory should be priceless, but a lot of people are gleefully making a lot of money on it.
You could buy autographs and photographs. You could buy T-shirts and jerseys. You could buy trading cards and footballs. You could buy a Ranger patch or a framed newspaper obituary. What's next? His boots? His dog tags? His rifle?
This is all wrong. This is sleazy and unseemly. This is the opposite of everything Tillman stood for, fought for, died for.
For a great many of us, the last week has been one of grief for a man who walked away from so much money, and suddenly, others cannot wait to make money from his memory. Tillman has represented the best of America - its courage, its honor, its sense of sacrifice - and yet, there are many who are willing to represent its worst.
Scan the items offered:
Someone was selling a 3x5 index card with Tillman's autograph on it. You wonder: Did this person lean across a rail and beseech Tillman for his signature, pleading at how much it really, really meant to them? Did Tillman grin as he signed? Did he share a moment? It doesn't matter. The price of the memory was up to $103.
Someone wanted $3,500 for a trading card. Beneath, it promised "Free Shipping!"
Someone sold a towel purportedly used by Tillman in a game in 1998 for $30. The seller says Tillman tossed him the towel after a game. Then again, 30 bucks is 30 bucks.
Someone is selling an autographed jersey. According to the history included, Tillman once donated the jersey to charity. So far, there have been 57 bids. The highest stands at $2,225.
Someone bought Tillman's old practice helmet for $1,000.
Someone bought a T-shirt with Tillman's last name, his jersey number and an American flag on it. It looks as if it were made by a sixth-grader at summer camp. It went for $86.
Someone is selling an autographed football "to honor Pat Tillman." The seller says he is not comfortable with any bids more than $350 and will cut off the bidding at that point.
Someone is selling a 1997 Sun Bowl program from Tillman's days at Arizona State. The starting bid is 99 cents. Evidently, any profit is plenty.
Someone is selling a menu signed by Tillman. According to the description, the seller met Tillman at the restaurant. He spent time and signed the menu. The seller wants $125.
Someone was selling a "gently worn" Tillman jersey that "didn't have holes or rips." The starting bid was at $50.
Someone sold a long-sleeve T-shirt with the Cardinals emblem on the front and Tillman's name and number on the sleeves. At $60, it was a bargain.
Some of the sellers say they will donate part of their profits. One said in an e-mail he planned to send money to Tillman's family. Darrin Revell, who is selling a rookie card, says he will give his proceeds to the Red Cross.
"It seems wrong to me," Revell said of those who keep the profit. "It's too much like blood money."
Should we really be surprised? Of course not. There are people who would sell Ted Williams' head, Mickey Mantle's liver and O.J. Simpson's glove. And there are people who would buy them. In the past, there have been auctions that have included Ty Cobb's teeth, Bill Veeck's artificial leg and Joe DiMaggio's wedding license.
It is, however, disappointing to see the manner in which the peddlers and the pitchmen and the other captains of capitalism have decided that, in death, Tillman is a hot ticket.
Tillman's death touched most of us, and there is a part of human nature that wants to cling to whatever memories we can. Who doesn't want to honor Tillman? Who doesn't want a souvenir of his memory? We are a nation of pack rats, of collectors who want a piece of the things we find meaningful.
But not like this. Why must we send our money to flim-flam artists and scoundrels who mint their coin as close to Tillman's memory as possible?
Do you want something to help you remember Tillman? How about a canceled check? A reader, Irene Lipinksy, has an idea. Why not donate your money to help set up a trust for the children of fallen Rangers? Why not make a bit of sacrifice of your own for the greater good?
After all, that's the point of what Tillman did.
He died because he was sold on his country. Not in order to be sold in it.
