|
Die Hard Fans
"Pac Bell is not the working man’s ballpark like the ‘Stick
once was."
By Joe de Wolk
 Pac
Bell Park in San Francisco was loud and it was full for the World
Series. It was full of Korean thundersticks, orange and black, and
people with signs that read, “Pitch to Barry.” It was
also full of people on their cell phones, people who didn’t
even watch the other World Series games, and people who don’t
know who Tim Worrell is, or what he does. It was full of people who
never, not in a million years, would have attended a game at beloved
Candlestick. It was full of people in the highest tax bracket and
people with corporate connections. In other words, it was full of
bandwagoners.
And, by extension, it was severely lacking in true anti-blue fans.
Here’s the problem: there are lots of hardcore Giants fans who have been
following the team all year, have been to a number of games, and have been looking
forward this — a World Series at home — all their lives. Many of those
fans were crushed in 1989. Many of those fans tried to buy tickets to the Series,
but didn’t get them. And my question is: where’s the justice?
Even during the regular season, Pac Bell doesn’t really
provide an intense atmosphere. Where else do the ushers ask you to wait in the
aisle until the at-bat is over so as not to block the view of other fans? Where
else can you buy vegetarian food? Where else existed a stock ticker that ran
— during the game? Pac Bell, although as beautiful as any other park, doesn’t
feel electric because the people there either aren’t paying attention,
or don’t know what’s going on. Pac Bell is not the working man’s
ballpark like the ‘Stick once was. Going to see the Giants at The ‘Stick
was a sacrifice. Every fan there martyred themselves to the freezing wind and
sleet and the unyielding plastic seats. Pac Bell, on the other hand, is modern,
expensive and flashy. It has attracted a new breed of fan who thinks of a baseball
game as they think of going to a posh restaurant.
Only 14,000 tickets were sold to the Series when tickets went
on sale. Pac Bell fits over 40,000 fans, so where did the other tickets go?
To season ticket holders and to corporations who invested in the park. Not to
fans who waited in the freezing cold or to fans who were ready to shell out
$125 per ticket online. The tickets went to people in the highest tax bracket,
to people who have connections, to people who go to the World Series because
they hear it’s a big event. These are not the real fans. These are people
who go because they can, not because it’s anything special to them. These
people come late, boo when someone throws a ball to Barry, talk on their cell
phones during play, and leave early.
Here’s what I have to say to all of you bandwagoners: if
you don’t care about baseball that much and you don’t go to regular
season games, don’t buy a ticket. If you already have a ticket, sell it.
There are thousands of hardcore fans out there who would give a finger to be
in your shoes. Fans who will cry when the series is over, win or lose, fans
who thought Barry vs. Francisco Rodriguez was the highlight of their week. Do
you know who the best setup man in baseball was this year? Did you ever go to
a game at The ‘Stick? Do you stick with a game to the end, be it a blowout
loss, 10 extra innings, or a shutout? If not, don’t buy a ticket. It’s
unfair to people who want to be there more than you. And no, no one is going
to stop you from buying a ticket, and yes it is a free country. You can do whatever
you want with your money. But if you know that others would enjoy the game more
than you, let them have it.
After all, you’d want someone who didn’t really care
to give you their ticket to the next celebrity golf tournament.
— Joe De Wolk has already erased the 2002 World Series from his memory,
forever.
|
|
