What happened when I asked for Lisa Curry’s autograph: Buttle

As a child, Mel Buttle was a big ‘famous person’ autograph hunter. One particular memory sticks with her.

A famous person replied to a tweet of mine this week, huge news.

With shaking hands I took a screenshot and sent the proof out to anyone I thought might be interested in my scoop.

Responses varied – not everyone is as into Below Deck, a reality TV show about crew who work on super yachts, as I am.

It got me thinking of the handful of interactions I’ve had across my life with famous people, there’s an excitement that hits you in the gut when you realise you’re in the same butcher as a former Brisbane Bronco.

I did the classic double-take, that bloke looks like Gorden Tallis, that’s not Gorden Tallis is it? Oh my god, that’s definitely Gorden Tallis! The Raging Bull and I get our snags from the same butcher.

I was too shy to say hello to Gordy, I just let being in the same room as a State of Origin great wash over me instead, I think it’s called being in the moment.

My generation isn’t really sure how to do that apparently. I think we do, but we’d just prefer to be in the moment with the help of a series of Instagram filters.

Sporting icon Lisa Curry. Picture: Lauren Biggs Photography

I’m also the proud owner of Lisa Curry’s autograph. As a kid I was obsessed with swimming. I’d go and watch any swimming event at Chandler; I’d be there eating chips and trying to spot swim stars with my autograph book in hand. I think the term you’re looking for to describe me here is “nerd”.

My interaction with Lisa Curry happened at the Australian Swimming Championships in the early 90s.

Seated just a few rows over from me, there she was, Lisa Curry, from the Uncle Tobys ads. I walked over, cap already off the pen, book open, making life as easy as possible for the multi-medallist.

“Excuse me, Mrs Curry-Kenny, sorry to bother you, can I please have your autograph?” I semi-whispered.

I have no idea what Lisa said back, as I was hovering above my body at that point, looking down on the rows of aluminium seats.

I floated back to my seat, then just stared at the autograph. It was proper celebrity style, with big loops on the L, the C and the Y, nothing like my signature, which to this day is me writing my name on a slight angle with no fanfare.

That same day, I got Hayley Lewis, still in her State High uniform, to sign my book.

She seemed baffled that I wanted her autograph, but I knew she was destined for big things, and I was right.

Hayley Lewis

Five gold medals, a bronze and a TV hosting gig later, I swanned around Year 7 telling everyone I’d met Hayley Lewis. I think dweeb or gumby would work well to describe me here. Other girls liked boys, I liked our swimming elite and watching The Bill.

I’ve also chased after Cathy Freeman at QEII stadium in Mt Gravatt.

She was running her warm-down laps and for some reason I thought if I could just catch up to her I’d be able to say a quick hello. I wish I had a slice of my former confidence, I don’t know how me finishing a solid seventh in the 200m division B on sports day made me think I had the legs to gain on Cathy. Oh the naivety of youth.

But while my eyes were glued to Cathy, they didn’t see the large pile of pipes and gravel on the ground. Ever had a scab that takes up your whole bum cheek? It makes completing Year 6 with friends challenging.

I’ve met non-sporting famous people too. Bob Hawke once waved to me but to be fair I started it.

I’ve pointed Christine Anu in the direction of a toilet, and locked eyes with Ray Martin.

If I’ve learned anything though, it’s that most people don’t want to receive a screenshot of someone they don’t know replying to your tweet at 6am on a public holiday.