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Will’s World: How Much is Too Much for Tickets?

by Chris Littmann

May 15, 2009, 5:25 PM UTC

Will Leitch is an editor for

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â†µIf you’ve watched a game at the newâ†µYankee Stadium, then you might haveâ†µnoticed something unusual. No, not theâ†µbaseball-sized hole just below Chien-Mingâ†µWang’s ribcage. I’m talking about thoseâ†µempty seats.â†µ

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â†µâ†µI don’t mean empty seats in the upperâ†µdeck, like the ones at every other ballpark; Iâ†µmean the primo tickets, the Glengarry leads,â†µthe “luxury suite boxes” just down the firstâ†µand third base lines. Every seat in Yankeeâ†µStadium is full except for the best seats in theâ†µhouse. It looks awful on television: It looksâ†µlike the Yankees can’t fill their stadium.â†µ

â†µâ†µThey can, of course. They’re the Yankees.â†µBut they can’t sell these seats—because evenâ†µin New York, which apparently was once theâ†µfinancial capital of the world, nobody wants toâ†µpay $2,500 for one baseball game. And that’sâ†µwhat they’re charging. (Or at least what theyâ†µwere charging, before coming to their senses.)â†µThese seats are amazing, and the ballpark isâ†µbreathtaking, but they’re not worth $2,500.â†µThey’re not worth the $1,250 they’re chargingâ†µnow. Trust me, I sat in one.â†µ

â†µâ†µThanks to a “friend of a friend”—whoâ†µI swear does not fit debtors with cementâ†µshoes—I ended up with the golden tickets forâ†µthe first Sunday afternoon game at the newâ†µpark, a 7-3 Yankees win over the Indians. â†µ

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â†µIâ†µwas so close to the field I could actually seeâ†µthe TV screens the umpires use for replays.â†µ(Which is funny because I think they still gotâ†µa home run call wrong.) And there were onlyâ†µtwo other people in my row. It was the fourthâ†µhome game of the season.â†µ

â†µâ†µThe Yankees, obviously, have drasticallyâ†µoverpriced these seats, but because they’reâ†µthe Yankees, they were slow to admit it. Thus,â†µthey were doing the hard sell. The minuteâ†µmy friend and I walked into our section,â†µa nice woman who works for the Yankeesâ†µcorralled us, without our asking, and took usâ†µon a half-hour tour of the stadium. She wasâ†µas aggressive as the ballpark barkers whoâ†µtry to sign you up for credit cards, except weâ†µended up with swag far superior to someâ†µcrappy beach towel. All our food was free, theâ†µnice woman told us, along with non-alcoholicâ†µbeverages. (Because I’m the type of guy whoâ†µdrinks margaritas at baseball games, eachâ†µone ran me $20.) We could push a buttonâ†µat our seats if we wanted anything broughtâ†µto us, including sushi. (For the record, I’dâ†µrecommend you stick with the hot dog.) “Andâ†µif you need anything else, please don’t hesitateâ†µto ask the girls,” she finished, pointing toâ†µthree stunning nymphs wearing pinstripes,â†µYankees caps and convincingly fake smiles.â†µIt was a rather ideal way to watch a sportingâ†µevent. All we were missing was a sofa or a spotâ†µpinch-hitting in the seventh.â†µ

â†µâ†µBut it wasn’t worth $2,500—becauseâ†µno regular season game is worth $2,500.â†µNo matter how much sushi, how manyâ†µclubhouse tours you give me or how manyâ†µlovely lasses wink at me on the way to theâ†µrestroom, it’s wildly out of whack with howâ†µhumans live now. Which is why the seatsâ†µare empty; if Derek Jeter sprinted into theâ†µstands to make a catch today, he’d land onâ†µupholstery, not flesh. Yet the Yankees haveâ†µto try to sell them, using gravitas, sex appealâ†µand sushi. They’re hucksters desperate toâ†µunload product. If there’s a better exampleâ†µof why this economic crisis has everyoneâ†µterrified, I don’t want to see it.â†µ

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