2009 World Series — Game 2
I headed out to Yankee Stadium yesterday with a homemade sign and a whole lot of hope that it would land me a ticket:
In case you’re too lazy to click the photo above, the sign has this pyramid photo of me with “4,352 baseballs and counting…” written underneath it.
I arrived at the stadium at 1:30pm — six and a half hours before game time — and there was already a huge line of fans, hoping that some tickets might get released:
I held up my sign and walked around and flapped my glove at everyone who looked at me. Over the course of the day, at least 100 people asked me the following question: “What does ballhawk mean?” It was annoying to have to explain the same thing over and over, but I was glad to be educating the public.
The area outside the stadium was swarming with media. Several journalists and news crews interviewed me. So did Juliet Papa from 1010 WINS (pictured below), who interviewed me live for 40 seconds.
Afterward, she said, “Two million people just heard you.”
The 2009 World Series ball was on sale for $30, ball cube included:
The ball has a nice logo, in my opinion. I like that the words “WORLD SERIES” are large, and that the words “Fall Classic” appear beneath the MLB logo. (Have those words ever appeared on the ball before? I’m not sure.)
During the four hours I spent outside Yankee Stadium, only two people offered (read: tried to sell) me a ticket. The first was a shady-looking scalper who said he could get me a ticket “for six.”
“Six what?” I asked. (Six BP balls?)
“Six hundred,” he said.
The second guy was a Yankee employee — one of those guys who stand outside with those signs that say “How May I Help You?” — who said he had a friend who was selling bleacher tickets for $550.
(Wow, what a bargain! Really?! Does your friend take cash?!)
When I told him that was way beyond my price range, he said, “I know a guy who can walk you in for two-fifty. Then you’re on your own. Standing room only.”
(How about I take a photo of you and report you? Unless you let me in for twenty bucks.)
It was 5pm. The gates were opening. People were pouring out of the subway and into the stadium:
I lingered for another half-hour. I had $200 on me and I was still willing to spend it on a real ticket. I figured I still had the Phillies’ portion of batting practice — if I could somehow get inside — but it wasn’t meant to be. Some random rent-a-cop saw my sign and told me that it’s illegal to solicit tickets on stadium property. (Oh yeah?! Well, it should be illegal for you to…nevermind.) So I put my sign in the nearest trash can and headed back to the subway.
Someday I’m going to be rich and/or famous and I won’t need to deal with this B.S.
(Let’s go Padres!)