Sunday at the GougeDome
Went to Toronto on the weekend, to catch the Jays and da Yanks at the SkyDome...or Rogers Center...or whatever they're calling that embarrassing, tax-funded disgrace of a ball field these days. I gotta say the trip was quite a little lesson in Toronto sports economics. And then - to top it off - I was reading this morning how certain Jays players were bemoaning the attendance woes at the old home field.
Gee, I wonder why?
Our seats were halfway between first base and the right field fence. Not exactly what Regis Philbin and squirrel-hair Donald Trump score at Yankee Stadium. But the cost? 50 bucks a pop. A can of beer costs 9 dollars and change. A water 4 bucks. A little cup of ice cream for the kiddies? 6 dollars. You get the picture? You have a bad ball team in an ugly stadium and all the owners can think about, apparently, is the most efficient way to fuck their patrons out of every nickel possible.
Oh, did I say patrons? We were privileged to sit among a group of the dumbest motherfuckers this side of the Bush cabinet. Every time I go to that place, someone arranges to have the same guy sit behind me. Skinny baseball nerd with a whiny voice who knows every little thing about the Jays and absolutely nothing about the game. This dude couldn't throw a baseball the length of his smart car but he could tell you Dave Steib's ERA in 1991. He never batted an eye when I told him the Yankees traded Hideki Matsui to the Toledo Mud Hens.
Oh yeah...the parking situation. We scored big time, finding a spot behind the giant beer store on Queen's Quay. Imagine our delight when we spotted a sign proclaiming "5 Dollars Max". The bylaw enforcer - a little dweeb in a rent-a-cop uniform - happened by while we were rassling with the ticket gizmo. He asked if we were going to the game and then agreed with me that 5 bucks was a hell of a deal for parking in that neck of the woods. We felt quite honored to be conversing with a man of such importance. When we returned we discovered that the little prick had further honored us with a 30 dollar parking ticket. Apparently the maximum you had to pay for parking was indeed 5 bucks. The sign didn't mention that you only got 2 hours for your fin. The little dweeb neglected to tell us that part.
There was one remarkable thing about the game. OPP head honcho Julian Fantino was there. They hauled him out of the crowd at one point to make a draw, or sing Happy Birthday...or something like that. It was pretty amazing that he was there watching the game. I mean, I live near Caledonia and Brantford. How can a man who has had his head up his ass for the past two years watch anything?
Gee, I wonder why?
Our seats were halfway between first base and the right field fence. Not exactly what Regis Philbin and squirrel-hair Donald Trump score at Yankee Stadium. But the cost? 50 bucks a pop. A can of beer costs 9 dollars and change. A water 4 bucks. A little cup of ice cream for the kiddies? 6 dollars. You get the picture? You have a bad ball team in an ugly stadium and all the owners can think about, apparently, is the most efficient way to fuck their patrons out of every nickel possible.
Oh, did I say patrons? We were privileged to sit among a group of the dumbest motherfuckers this side of the Bush cabinet. Every time I go to that place, someone arranges to have the same guy sit behind me. Skinny baseball nerd with a whiny voice who knows every little thing about the Jays and absolutely nothing about the game. This dude couldn't throw a baseball the length of his smart car but he could tell you Dave Steib's ERA in 1991. He never batted an eye when I told him the Yankees traded Hideki Matsui to the Toledo Mud Hens.
Oh yeah...the parking situation. We scored big time, finding a spot behind the giant beer store on Queen's Quay. Imagine our delight when we spotted a sign proclaiming "5 Dollars Max". The bylaw enforcer - a little dweeb in a rent-a-cop uniform - happened by while we were rassling with the ticket gizmo. He asked if we were going to the game and then agreed with me that 5 bucks was a hell of a deal for parking in that neck of the woods. We felt quite honored to be conversing with a man of such importance. When we returned we discovered that the little prick had further honored us with a 30 dollar parking ticket. Apparently the maximum you had to pay for parking was indeed 5 bucks. The sign didn't mention that you only got 2 hours for your fin. The little dweeb neglected to tell us that part.
There was one remarkable thing about the game. OPP head honcho Julian Fantino was there. They hauled him out of the crowd at one point to make a draw, or sing Happy Birthday...or something like that. It was pretty amazing that he was there watching the game. I mean, I live near Caledonia and Brantford. How can a man who has had his head up his ass for the past two years watch anything?
posted by Brad Smith at
8:37 AM
1 Comments:
Funny comment about Fantino. Maybe he feels more comfortable in his old hunting grounds rather than in the places where the biggest challenges of his career lie. Maybe he's hoping to slide into oblivion where no one can notice his abject failure.
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