Change or Die:
Whatever Happened to the Free Ticket?

Michael Cox

Back in the mid-80s, Leaf Candies ran a promotion wherein if you collected five candy wrappers you could exchange them for seats at your nearby MLB ballpark for the entire month of June. Working in a record store and living the rock 'n' roll lifestyle (read: making practically zero income), I took advantage of this deal to the fullest. I discovered that you didn't have to buy the more expensive Whoppers or Good 'N' Plenties - the 15-cent Jolly Rancher wrappers would be accepted just fine. At $.75 a ticket, life was good.

They repeated the deal the next year, but only for six selected games. The year after that, it took five cereal-box tops to attend your choice of four games. In the meantime, here in Seattle half-price "Family Mondays" were cut from every Monday to once a month, and to the current four (three of them against KC, Detroit, and Oakland. Woo-bloody-hoo). Even the occasional $2 discounts for recycled newspaper disappeared this year. To go to a game in Seattle, you pretty much have to pay full price. The same is true in many other MLB cities.

Where am I going with this? Well, back in those long-gone days, I wasn't nearly the maniacal baseballhead I am now, and cheap tickets went a long way towards attracting this casual fan. the price of attending a baseball game wasn't just competitive with the movie theater and nightclub - the ballgame just plain slaughtered them for value. And the point buried deep inside is that the team had room to give a little where ticket prices were concerned.

Now, with salaries escalated to the max in many cities (by owners, yes - mostly the deeper-pocketed owners, however, in MLB's not-quite-open market), teams are reeling in every inch of slack from their ticket prices - in some cities even counting on the interest earned from advance ticket sales. Certainly it can be agreed that demand fuels much of the squeezing of prices. Why discount in Cleveland, for example, when you'd actually hold back seats from people who'd pay full price with cash on the barrel?

One answer: the kids. Mock me all you want (and there are those who do), but for MLB, it is absolutely imperative that they grab every child they can and get them to ballgames, because unless they find a cure for aging, those children are the season-ticket holders and suite-buyers of the future. Hold back some seats, let the fry gather candy wrappers and soda caps, find a sponsor to cover the difference between the "family night" price and the regular price of the seats. If the Orioles, for example, can figure out a way to pay Mike Bordick $3.5M for okay-glove, no-stick play, they can free up a few million worth of seats.

Or better yet, give the fans the ultimate free game: The doubleheader. The abolition of the regularly-scheduled double-dip is a travesty that falls on the shoulders of both owners and players, the former for wanting the extra income, the players for crying "but we're too tired!" (and wanting, well, more income). The season has been 162 games for a good number of generations now, and they managed to play doubleheaders just fine in the '70s. Yet in each new labor agreement, they have been cut down further and further until none were left (this year, there's one between San Diego and Milwaukee August 16, but it's due to scheduling problems). Maybe players are whiners.

And now, the ultimate scourge is upon us: the day-night doubleheader, which is not actually a doubleheader at all: They play a game, kick all the fans out of the park, then re-open the gates and make the people pay again. I can understand this in cities who always sell out, like Cleveland or Baltimore, but in New York this spring the Yankees, whose owner has gone public over the team's poor attendance, forced fans to pay twice (and I sure hope he didn't force 'em to stand around in the Bronx between games).

I put it to you that even a small amount - no, even one, one strategically-placed and promoted doubleheader per team would do a world of good promotion for "the people's sport".

C'mon now. A few discounted seats. One or two measly doubleheaders. Pay heed to the "formative experience". There's one in almost every baseball book. Treat the fans like they're your friends, and they'll return the favor.

Michael Cox will be directing an updated sequel to the Broadway production, "Damn Yankees", entitled, "%#$@*% Steinbrenner". His casting couch is open at mc@strikethree.com.