Field of dream-on, McDuff...

Because both the New York Mets and the fabled New York Yankees play home games a hop-and-a-skip (by subway) from where I live, occasionally someone will ask me if I actually ever attend games. I usually say I do but, upon reflection, I realize I don’t go anywhere near as much as I used to. I’m not a huge fan of either team but I do like baseball and I do like taking in the beauty of the game in the flesh, as it were. By that I mean more than just the game itself (which I think is a perfect blend of rules, strategy and geometry); I mean looking down on a perfectly groomed, mathematically aligned field of play; it’s just, well, physically gorgeous. Usually my choice of seat location depends on peer pressure or economics, since the value of any particular seat has skyrocketed over the last five years. Only ten years ago you could cadge a pretty good seat for $12.95 and you could really see the pinstripes if you splurged at, say, $25. If you deigned to join the bleacher bums (not a recommended course of action for the faint of heart) you could fork over $4.95 and take your chances.

This season I have come up empty and I have not attended even one game and, since there are only about 30 games to go, it’s not looking good that I will do so. There are no longer any baseball-buff buds within my own personal posse (except for one rabid Yankee fan who shall remain nameless because he is currently in the depths of despair over his team and, therefore, not to be tolerated on field or off…it’s not the end of the world, Fred, no matter what you think). The tickets available to me through my erstwhile office are now out of reach and, frankly, those “company” seats were not all that good anyway (more on that later).

So the graffiti is on the wall. This years’ attendance, or lack thereof, is liable to stay in place for years to come unless something radical happens. Here’s a small example of why this is: The Yankees have announced that in their new stadium the best seats (not counting skyboxes or owner suites), meaning the first nine rows behind the plate, will cost between $500 and $2,500 each. That’s not a season ticket, son, that’s per game! Say what? From there the prices drop to $75 to $325 for field level seats and $40 to $100 for main level. Even the upper decks will be $20 to $65. You can imagine where those $20 seats are. Whatever you choose to pay it’s going to be a mighty pricey day at the old ball park. So, for me, Casey has pretty much struck out and I’ll probably, in the future, be staying home in Mudville.

The season-ticket seats at Yankee Stadium that my company maintained for years and years were touted as being “really good,” being in the second row in left field. To me, those seats had a problem with the viewing angle to home plate. If you look at a stadium, any stadium, the seats face the railing, right? Which means it is your head that has to swivel to be able to watch the pitcher and batter and, of course, that juxtaposition is the main drama of baseball. Being able to take a really close look at the left fielder, straight on, doesn’t totally cut it and ones neck muscles really don’t need that constant test of resiliency. My suggestion, and I’ve maintained this for decades, is that the seats, all seats, be angled inward so that everyone faces the infield, if not home plate, directly. This makes just too much sense to be adopted, of course. But I’m laying it out there, free of charge.