Ballpark Figures: Box Seat Envy

Michael Cox

As they do every year, the so-called "fan advocates" are decrying the "spiraling cost" of attending a ball game. And as always, it's a steaming pile of pigeon leavings. Sure, the cost is spiraling for some, but there is no reason that it has to include you, no matter where you are.

As I've said before, attending a baseball game need not be any more expensive than 90% of your other entertainment options. You can't take the family to a first-run movie night, the zoo, or even a Wolfgang Puck restaurant for a cheaper price than you can attend a major league baseball game at almost every ballpark.

So why do people insist that it isn't so?

Because they've got Box Seat Envy.

They want to buy the best seats in the house, park the car within a block of the park, order up a meal with all the trimmings and grab whatever souvenirs they've got their eyes on -- and expect it to be within their means to do all this on a regular basis. If they can't, baseball is "only for the rich."

These same people wouldn't consider booking family vacations with first-class airfare, suites at the swankest hotel in town and a rental Porsche. They wouldn't insist on taking the kids along to eat nouvelle cuisine. Yet they want a top-shelf baseball experience at a bargain-basement price.

Why? Because baseball is a "game for the working class," as an editorial cartoonist here in Seattle put it? Give me a break. People of all stripes have always attended baseball games, and the people in the best seats have always generally had more money than people in the bleachers. Movie stars have always sat baseline; kids attending on their week's allowance have always sat in the bleachers or upper deck.

The fact is that today more people want to sit in the best seats, even if they can't afford it, because it's a status symbol. See and be seen among the ten percenters. For God's sake, don't let the neighbors catch us in the $5 outfield reserved section, because they'll tell everyone. Bring homemade submarine sandwiches to the game? Why don't we just bring a megaphone and yell "we're poor"?

Because supply and demand virtually alone set ticket prices, Box Seat Envy has caused the cost of the best locations to skyrocket. So many people are demanding front-row seats that some teams are getting $100-200 per game for those behind the plate, and scalpers even more.

But you still want them, although it looks like the trend might be reversing with a reasonable quantity of available ringside seats in places like Phoenix and Tampa Bay. No doubt they'll tweak their prices slightly to assure sell-through in the future. In Minnesota, they offer $99 season tickets in the upper outfield along with a Kirby Puckett-signed bat worth at least $99, and they still haven't sold them out. They don't offer a similar deal behind the plate, because they don't have to.

And are those ringside seats worth it? I've sat in some of the "best" sections at some of the best ballparks in the country, and the answer is unequivocally no.

In most cities, the people in those "overpriced" seats could care less about the game. They're talking on cell phones, talking with their friends about their cars, or aren't in their seats at all because they're in the exclusive "diamond club" restaurant, eating rubbery chicken cordon bleu and watching the game on TV. Start cheering and you're liable to be shooshed.

Food is more expensive if you order it from the ultra-box waiters, and to discourage you from buying at a concession, stands are usually far away or small and crowded. And by sitting at field level, you get the added advantage of having your view blocked by players, coaches, umpires and field personnel. Any reasonable baseball fan should hate those seats.

Still, I'd like to thank all of you who clamor for box seats, because it's because of you that I have killer seats behind the plate in the second deck. When I went in to sign up for my season tickets, I initially inquired about box locations like everyone else. Smiling, the sales rep chirped, "We can get you in by the foul poles." The rest were full, because sitting far from home plate isn't the issue for many people with Box Seat Envy, they just want box seats.

They sure didn't want the much-closer seats in the upper levels, because I had my pick of locations. I got better seats cheaper, because of Box Seat Envy.

Think about it. People crowd the bleachers in Wrigley Field because there's a cachet about hanging out with the Bleacher Bums (the Bleacher Bums, for cryin' out loud!) that seems to rival traveling to Spain to participate in the "running of the bulls." Yet in most other cities, the same people wouldn't be caught dead sitting in the outfield, because it's all in their head.

So next time you drop $200 at a game and want to grouse about how the "common people" are priced out of their own sport, stop and remember: The owners didn't do this to you. Neither did the players.

You have met the enemy, and it is you.

about the author

Michael Cox spent many seasons in the outfield seats of the Kingdome, and his ears still ring from the fans' unique habit from years past of banging the backs of the metal benches to make noise.