Who might you be if you were someone else?

There aren’t many Scott Lefflers in the world. And there’s only one me. (No doubt there are scores of people who would tell you that’s a good thing — I’m inclined to agree.)

The previous paragraph is a purely unintentional poem, I assure you. But I digress … already.

Occasionally, I get emails or phone calls for people who aren’t me. Surely, you have the same issue from time to time. My standard operating procedure is to respond to the email or phone call and tell them that they person they intended their message for didn’t receive it. I’d hate to think that some day someone was calling me and got someone else and they just deleted it. I may have already won the Publishers Clearinghouse or something and I wouldn’t even know it.

I work with a man named Bill Wolcott. I’ve known Bill all of my adult life. I admire him greatly. He has the best stories and an incredible work ethic. Occasionally, I have to call him to ask him a question about a story he’s written so I can make sure I understand it. It’s part of my job here at the paper.

I used to work with another man named Bill Wolcott. I have his phone number as well. Occasionally, apparently, I called and left him voicemail intended for the other Bill Wolcott. One day he called me back to let me know that he’d received numerous messages for the other Bill. Hilarity ensued.

I digressed again. Sorry.

A couple weeks ago, I got an email intended for another Scott Leffler. See, there are a few of us. There’s me, there’s a professional baseball player and there’s a mixed martial arts fighter. I’m sure there are others as well, but when I google myself, those are the other two I often find.

The email I got was a contract for a professional fight in Las Vegas. It offered me more money for a single fight than I’ll make this year. I considered accepting the offer. I mean, I’d be willing to get beaten up for a few minutes in exchange for the ability to pay off my car loan. Heck, I got beat up in high school for free!

Instead, I emailed back telling the guy he had the wrong Scott Leffler. I was a little miffed that I never got a thank you. It’s not that I did it to get any sort of recognition, but a thank you would have been nice, don’t you think?

Oddly, the baseball player and I have mutual acquaintances. A couple of years ago a friend of mine told me she ran into him at a Buffalo Bisons baseball game. She mentioned to him that she had a friend named Scott Leffler. He said, “The radio guy?!” Apparently, he’d googled himself, too. Either that or he had gotten a contract offer for me, too … and it never got forwarded on to me.

Misplaced hero worship gets smacked down

I was an average teenage American boy.

And like average teenage American boys of my time, I collected baseball cards. I also collected football cards, hockey cards and the occasional collectible cards associated with movies and TV shows. I’m not sure if they still make those, but I know they still make sports trading cards.

There is a huge industry related to the hero worship of athletes. Aside from the trading cards, there’s also shirts, hats, posters — you name it. We buy the sports stuff so we can feel like we’re “part of it.” The “it” of course, being something important.

The hero worship of athletes, alone, is a huge industry. Add in movie stars and television actors, and millions of Americans spend a large portion of their time and money trying to feel a “part of” something “important.”

Today is Election Day, of course, and that adds in another sector of the hero-worship industry: Politicians. Granted, I think it’s a much smaller scale, but I can confess to having a bumper sticker and pin collection from throughout the years. A few years ago, I was offered a pretty penny for a Ron Paul pin I was wearing at the time. I refused the offer, electing instead to keep my pin.

But what of society’s real heroes? Where is the industry to worship — or at least salute — them? Where are the trading cards for doctors, nurses, police officers, firefighters, and even teachers?

I was having a conversation with a friend on Sunday during the Bills game. We were discussing this oddity and imagining how strange it would be to see doctors wearing jerseys during live-to-air broadcasts of appendectomies or whatnot.

Imagine how surreal it would be if your kids were talking about the statistics of successful operations or graduating rates or arrests or — well, I think you get the picture.

I’d love to see a local hospital start this trend. I’d love to see someone go out on a limb to try to start this trend of appropriately placed hero worship. Or at least respect.

Sure, people directly affected by the successful operations show their respect. Yes, people silently appreciate criminals being arrested and kids learning their multiplication tables. But isn’t it bizarre how little importance is given to these things that actually matter.

Now, I’m not saying this to bash sports figures, actors or even politicians. I have a very healthy appreciation for the morale boost that can be given to a city by a big win by their football team. But in the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t really matter how few championships Buffalo has. And save for a few millionaires and those who lost bets this weekend, the Bills loss to the Jets this Sunday doesn’t truly affect many people in Western New York. And yet, we act like it does.

I am an average adult male. And like most average adult males of my time, I have a T-shirt with an NFL logo on it.

I’m guilty of misdirected hero worship. But I’m wondering why. Are you?