Friday, September 25, 2009
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Great Red Sox Game for a Discount
Anytime I go to a Red Sox game, it's never boring. Actually, boring is the wrong word for baseball, especially when seeing a game live. Last year, in my first year as a graduate student, I missed the opportunity to purchase a Red Sox ticket for just $26. I don't know what I was thinking.
Now in my second and final year as a grad student, I grew older, wiser, and far more cost-conscious. When the opportunity came to take advantage of this deal, I didn't let up.
As I got off the Green Line train at Kenmore station, a lot of things flowed through my mind. First, I had my car parked in Brookline, and I hoped no one thought to break into it. Second, I could easily sell this ticket for far more than I paid for it. After all, on my walk down Brookline Avenue towards Yawkee Way, I saw many people walking the opposite direction of me asking anyone if they had a ticket to sell. I knew there was a possibility that I could get arrested by an undercover cop for scalping, so I entered Gate C knowing I wouldn't have to ask my professor to bail me out of jail.
The sounds of an operatic singer belting out "The Star Spangled Banner" echoed onto Lansdowne Street as I approached Gate C. It was 6:55, and according to my ticket, the game started ten minutes later. I now knew the ticket meant the actual game, not the festivities and formalities before it.
It didn't matter to me, though. I was there to see the game. After I got through the crowd and my ticket was scanned, I strongly considered buying a slice of pizza for $4.55. The pizza looked really good, but you just read about me praising the price of my ticket. Yeah, I know. I'm cheap. I'm also poor.
Section 42, seat 12 wasn't hard to find. It wasn't very far from where I entered. I had to ask a family of four to get up so I could get by. I hate doing that, but how else will I get to my seat?
As I got to the middle seat on my ticket, there were a lot of empty seats around me. It still amazes me that although every game in Fenway Park has been sold out since May 2003 (that's a fact, too), people will still show up late to ball games. Do they even care?
Fact is, no one occupied the seat next to mine until the third inning. Ultimately, nothing really happened those first few innings, so these tardy fans didn't miss much. Still, why risk missing something really good?
It was in the third inning that a woman who looked a bit older than me (maybe 28 or 30) sat next to me. She came with a group of friends who looked about her age. I had to move a seat over to make room for them. It was then that I realized I was in Section 41, not 42. It explained why there were no students sitting around me.
Still, the woman was nice. Her name was Abby, and she was originally from Providence. However, she later confided in my her deepest, darkest secret: she is a Yankees fan. She said she told me because I seemed trustworthy, and not the type of Boston fan who would slap her around because of it. I felt honored . . .
Strangely enough, she wasn't against the Red Sox, and cheered with me as they scored five runs in the sixth inning. I believe it was my third time seeing Papi up at bat live in person, so that moment is always exciting. It was even better to see him score.
Unfortunately, that thrill was quickly killed the next inning as the Angels put four runs on the board, temporarily trumping the Red Sox by two runs. It was then that I noticed Boston had gotten much colder than in the previous weeks. It wasn't raining, though, so I was happy about that. I still wished I had brought a jacket.
As I waited patiently into the eighth inning for the Sox to score again, a number of people were getting up in the stands and shouting loudly to try and start a wave. That was in section 38, a few sections over. In my section, someone was tossing up mini beachballs and had the crowd bouncing them all over the place. These fans probably paid more for their tickets than I did. Did it ever occur to them to sit down and watch the freakin' game?
Because I was paying attention to the game, I didn't miss Papi's other run, along with Josh Reddick's. The crowd cheered, and I cheered along with them. The game was tied, but at least I was watching it unlike you-know-who.
By the top of the ninth, Abby bid me farewell because she had to get her roommate home. I wanted to ask for her number, but I didn't want to be too forward. I shook hands with her, said it was nice to meet her, and let her go on her way.
The second she left, I checked my watch and saw that it was 11:10. I thought about how cold I was, how late the Green Line was running, and if anyone had broken into my car.
After the Angels scored a run, putting them on top (although ultimately not for long), I reluctantly left. It would be a long way home, and even if the Sox pulled a comeback, it would be a regular season game. If this were a playoff game, that would be another story. That would also be a great excuse for falling asleep in class. Now, though, I just wanted to get home.
I got up, went down the stairs, and looked longingly at the NESN coverage as I made my way out of Gate C. I then turned my back and proceeded up Lansdowne Street to Brookline Avenue. I wasn't the only one. I saw dozens of people wearing Red Sox memorabilia walking at a steady pace to the Kenmore Square station. If the Sox pulled off a comeback, I wouldn't be the only one to miss it. Plus, better to miss that comeback than to turn off the Patriots vs. Bulls game five minutes before it ends. That game was far more regrettable to miss.
Now in my second and final year as a grad student, I grew older, wiser, and far more cost-conscious. When the opportunity came to take advantage of this deal, I didn't let up.
As I got off the Green Line train at Kenmore station, a lot of things flowed through my mind. First, I had my car parked in Brookline, and I hoped no one thought to break into it. Second, I could easily sell this ticket for far more than I paid for it. After all, on my walk down Brookline Avenue towards Yawkee Way, I saw many people walking the opposite direction of me asking anyone if they had a ticket to sell. I knew there was a possibility that I could get arrested by an undercover cop for scalping, so I entered Gate C knowing I wouldn't have to ask my professor to bail me out of jail.
The sounds of an operatic singer belting out "The Star Spangled Banner" echoed onto Lansdowne Street as I approached Gate C. It was 6:55, and according to my ticket, the game started ten minutes later. I now knew the ticket meant the actual game, not the festivities and formalities before it.
It didn't matter to me, though. I was there to see the game. After I got through the crowd and my ticket was scanned, I strongly considered buying a slice of pizza for $4.55. The pizza looked really good, but you just read about me praising the price of my ticket. Yeah, I know. I'm cheap. I'm also poor.
Section 42, seat 12 wasn't hard to find. It wasn't very far from where I entered. I had to ask a family of four to get up so I could get by. I hate doing that, but how else will I get to my seat?
As I got to the middle seat on my ticket, there were a lot of empty seats around me. It still amazes me that although every game in Fenway Park has been sold out since May 2003 (that's a fact, too), people will still show up late to ball games. Do they even care?
Fact is, no one occupied the seat next to mine until the third inning. Ultimately, nothing really happened those first few innings, so these tardy fans didn't miss much. Still, why risk missing something really good?
It was in the third inning that a woman who looked a bit older than me (maybe 28 or 30) sat next to me. She came with a group of friends who looked about her age. I had to move a seat over to make room for them. It was then that I realized I was in Section 41, not 42. It explained why there were no students sitting around me.
Still, the woman was nice. Her name was Abby, and she was originally from Providence. However, she later confided in my her deepest, darkest secret: she is a Yankees fan. She said she told me because I seemed trustworthy, and not the type of Boston fan who would slap her around because of it. I felt honored . . .
Strangely enough, she wasn't against the Red Sox, and cheered with me as they scored five runs in the sixth inning. I believe it was my third time seeing Papi up at bat live in person, so that moment is always exciting. It was even better to see him score.
Unfortunately, that thrill was quickly killed the next inning as the Angels put four runs on the board, temporarily trumping the Red Sox by two runs. It was then that I noticed Boston had gotten much colder than in the previous weeks. It wasn't raining, though, so I was happy about that. I still wished I had brought a jacket.
As I waited patiently into the eighth inning for the Sox to score again, a number of people were getting up in the stands and shouting loudly to try and start a wave. That was in section 38, a few sections over. In my section, someone was tossing up mini beachballs and had the crowd bouncing them all over the place. These fans probably paid more for their tickets than I did. Did it ever occur to them to sit down and watch the freakin' game?
Because I was paying attention to the game, I didn't miss Papi's other run, along with Josh Reddick's. The crowd cheered, and I cheered along with them. The game was tied, but at least I was watching it unlike you-know-who.
By the top of the ninth, Abby bid me farewell because she had to get her roommate home. I wanted to ask for her number, but I didn't want to be too forward. I shook hands with her, said it was nice to meet her, and let her go on her way.
The second she left, I checked my watch and saw that it was 11:10. I thought about how cold I was, how late the Green Line was running, and if anyone had broken into my car.
After the Angels scored a run, putting them on top (although ultimately not for long), I reluctantly left. It would be a long way home, and even if the Sox pulled a comeback, it would be a regular season game. If this were a playoff game, that would be another story. That would also be a great excuse for falling asleep in class. Now, though, I just wanted to get home.
I got up, went down the stairs, and looked longingly at the NESN coverage as I made my way out of Gate C. I then turned my back and proceeded up Lansdowne Street to Brookline Avenue. I wasn't the only one. I saw dozens of people wearing Red Sox memorabilia walking at a steady pace to the Kenmore Square station. If the Sox pulled off a comeback, I wouldn't be the only one to miss it. Plus, better to miss that comeback than to turn off the Patriots vs. Bulls game five minutes before it ends. That game was far more regrettable to miss.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Today's Class
To Be Or Not To Be. That is the question. Whether tis nobler to . . .
- This is my first point
- This is my second point
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