deliver us from evil (amy berg, 2006)
keep in touch

now what

Back in 2000, my seats at China Basin were very popular. I don't think they were empty the entire season. Beautiful new ballpark, playoff-bound team … it was the year of "Who Let the Dogs Out," fer chrissake!

There wasn't much dropoff in 2001, the year Barry hit 73 homers. And 2002 was the World Series year.

But eventually, more and more of my seats went unused. People who wanted a couple of tickets for a single game were usually ready to pay top dollar for the best seats, and my seats are good but nowhere near the best, so I lost most of that outlet. The people who would buy a bunch of tickets from me before the season started wanted fewer tickets than before … indeed, fewer of them wanted any tickets at all. The people who would go with me to a couple of games per homestand were satisfied with one game, people who went several times a year were satisfied with a couple of times a year, and I wasn't making any new friends, so I didn't have anyone to add to my list of "let's go to the game" people. I'd give the occasional game tickets to my friend Zoe's charity, and it's a good cause, but too often I don't know until the last minute whether or not I'm going, so I don't end up doing that as often as I should.

At this point, I'm seriously questioning the value of having season tickets. If I divide the cost of the tickets (minus whatever I get for the ones I sell) by the number of games I personally attend … in other words, if I factor in the "eating unused tickets" … my $18 a game per seat tickets cost me more like $50 a game per seat. There are lots of advantages to having season tickets, but those advantages are more cost effective when you go to 40 games and sell off tix to 40 more games than when you go to 30 games and sell off tix to 20 games.

But like I say, there are advantages. I got to go to the All-Star Game … for a pretty penny, to be sure, but I got to go. Whenever the Giants make the post-season, I'm there, too.

And, this season, I get to watch Barry Bonds set the all-time home run record. If he does it at home, of course … I can't control the road-game factor.

Because of Barry and the record, I have held on to the tickets for the games since I returned from vacation. People want to know if I have a couple to sell, and I say "not until Barry breaks the record, because I want to be there when that happens and we don't know when that will be, so I need to keep all the tickets, just in case."

Tonight, Barry hit #754. His next homer will tie the record, the one after that will break the record. And he plays two more games at home before the team hits the road, so if he's gonna do it in San Francisco, it's going to have to happen this weekend, it would seem.

And now, let me take you back to March 7. There is a woman, a lawyer, who buys several games from me every year. Nice lady, I'm always glad to send some tix her way, and these days, you can't be turning down offers because there might not be more down the road. She wanted half a dozen or so for 2007, and I explained to her that I didn't want to give up anything the last couple of months of the season (the Barry Factor), but I had plenty when I was in Europe. She got one game in April, two in May, and two in June, but I turned her down for two games in August.

Oh yeah … I also sold her my tickets for Saturday, July 28. The game starts at 6:05, you see, and I don't like those oddball starting times, so I figured I'd be going to the day game on Sunday of that weekend (which I am), and why not sell the Saturday game I wasn't going to attend anyway.

And so here we are. Tomorrow, that woman will be sitting in my seats, watching Barry Bonds, when every at-bat of Barry's could result in his tying Hank Aaron's record, with the slight possibility that he might even break the record tomorrow. She'll be there, and I'll be watching at home.

Whattya gonna do?