I Got ‘Em, but I Ain’t Happy About It
Before interleague, before realignment, the St. Louis Cardinals and
Chicago Cubs used to battle; they decimated each other in a bonafide on-the-field theatre of war much like the Yankees/Red Sox and
Dodgers/Giants do today.
But with six teams crammed into the
National League Central, each vying for a top spot with Selig’s odds
stacked against them and the unnecessary evil of force-feeding a
delusional I-70 rivalry that requires the Cardinals to play the Royals two
times a year, what was once the toast of classy baseball rivalries has
been diddled down to a mere four series a season, which allows me the
opportunity to see my ball club make a trip to my home (Chicago) just twice.
Didn’t Selig get the memo? I thought the world revolved around me.
like all loyal Cardinal fans living in the Chi, I too was first in the
interweb line to purchase tickets for the Cardinals/Cubs series: one
four game set in April and one three game set in July.
on to cubs.com and was told to “Please be patient. We are experiencing
a high volume of requests at this time. You will be notified when your
spot in the queue is ready.”
Besides being impressed that Cubs personnel could spell “queue”, I sat patiently, waiting my turn.
For an hour.
And then another hour.
And then another… and another… and another…
After waiting patiently for five and a half hours, I was told it was finally my turn.
I could not buy tickets for the July 10 game (sold out) or the July 11
game (also sold out) or the July 12 game (it’s f***ing sold out, dude)
or the April 18 game (goddamn it, it’s sold the **** out, man!).
bought tickets for the Sunday night ESPN game on April 19. And then,
before I could celebrate even the smallest of victories, I was booted
out of the ticketing system — the online equivalent of having been peed
Immediately, I ventured on to Stubhub were I was delighted
to see that I could buy tickets to all of those games I wanted to see
for the same price my health insurance company rapes me for every month.
In other words, a $22
upperdeck-there’s-a-giant-metal-column-blocking-my-view ticket at
Wrigley starts out at $125 a pop. Two tickets, do the math, is $250.
Better not get sick this summer.
it is for the best though. It is no secret that once I step in that
dilapidated craphole cathedral known as Wrigley Field, donning my
Molina jersey in all its 2006 WS Championship glory, my Old Style
soused tongue and seedy underworld presence tend to get me trounced
more often than I would like.
But you can bet I’ll find a way.
So don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.