So, you're thinking about zipping on down to the Hartford Civic Center today to catch the NCAA East regional doubleheader featuring the nation's number one team and the nation's number one darling.
Have fun, but don't look for me there.
As much as I'd love to see North Carolina's skywalkers in the first game and Princeton's precision attack in the nightcap, I'm not sure if I can handle any more excitement – basketball or otherwise.
And I know I can't afford a ticket.
That I know because I happened to be in Hartford Thursday night to see Princeton whip UNLV, 79-67.
The seeds of the trip down I-91 were sewn when a friend – he shall remain nameless to protect the not-so-innocent – and I made a pact that we were going to see the Tigers in the NCAA's wherever they ended up playing. He's a Princeton grad and diehard fan. I grew up in New Jersey and have followed Princeton basketball for as long as I can remember.
Our pledge to go anywhere in the country to watch the Tigers this year was a game of chicken, of course. I'll admit now that if they were penciled into the West Region, I would have found a legitimate reason to beg out.
Uh, sorry, but the dog is scheduled for his rabies shot Friday and I just can't miss it.
But the NCAA did us a favor and kept the Tigers in the East. At least we thought it was a favor until The Great Ticket Search began.
First, a little history lesson. When I saw Princeton lose a one-point game to Final Four-bound Rutgers in 1976, I was given the ticket. The phone rang, a friend said he had a couple of freebies and asked if I was up for a road trip. He gave the other one away to a stranger on the sidewalk outside the arena.
Things had started to change by the mid-'80s when several of us drove down to catch an opening-round NCAA doubleheader in Hartford. We weren't happy with how much we had to spend for seats, but we were definitely feeling good about ourselves just for getting into the building. At least we were until the Sherpas led us to the rafters. And there, seated next to us, we found a very large, very uninterested group of kids from the local Boys Club throwing candy at each other.
Now don't get me wrong; I think it's great the kids had a chance to see the games. But it was a pretty fair indication that the demand for tickets wasn't what we thought. That sure has changed.
Take it from me, there were no large blocks of tickets set aside for the Hartford Boys Club this year. The Billionaire Boys Club, maybe.
Once the bracket was drawn and we knew Princeton was headed for Hartford, we set about finding a way through the door. With no tickets available at the Civic Center, the first call was to a broker in Manchester. For a strip that included two sessions Thursday and one Saturday, the asking price was $300. The face value for the Thursday doubleheader featuring Princeton: $30. No thanks, we'll keep looking.
Time to start working the phones and firing out e-mail. I've been in and around sports for a couple of decades now and know a lot of people at a lot of colleges and conferences, but it soon became apparent that this was going to be harder than I thought. My friend's Princeton alumni pipeline was no more promising.
Undaunted, we decided we would drive down anyway and take our chances with scalpers. I've done it before at big-time events with some success. It's a gamble, but it can pay off smartly if you are willing to work at it.
Then the phone rang. Kismet. An old friend had two extra ducats waiting for him at a ticket bureau in Hartford. Was I interested?
My Princeton buddy and I somewhat reluctantly agreed to fork over $110 apiece for two $30 tickets. (Please don't tell my wife.) The plan was to meet the old friend when he signed for the cardboard at Tickets 'R' Us in Hartford at 7 p.m. (That is not the obnoxious business's real name; if they want free advertising, they can damn well pay for it.)
My friend and I arrived at the address we were given at 6:45 and stood there freezing. At 7:10 we started to get nervous. At 7:15 my friend was ready to kill me. At 7:20 I was ready to kill myself.
We were both thinking murderous thoughts as the 7:40 tip-off approached and we watched sleazy guys who were buying tickets on the street carry them into the bureau to be re-sold at upwards of several hundred dollars a shot.
At 7:25, my friend stuck his head through the door asked a guy behind the counter if our contact had picked up his tickets yet. Sure, the man said, and he left a couple others for two guys who haven't shown up yet. We look at each other in disbelief – and relief. I signed my name. We grabbed the tickets and ran.
Although they weren't our old boys club seats, we were sitting pretty high and on the corner. Still, the view was surprisingly good and the Princeton- UNLV game was fun to watch, so we weren't complaining.
With a couple minutes to go and the outcome decided, my friend headed over to the UNLV section to scarf up a couple of cheap resales for today's game.
I had done the same thing in 1986, buying tickets to see Duke and Navy play for less-than-face value from fans whose team had lost a round before. But times have changed. Fans traveling with the teams now only get vouchers for Saturday's games. Vouchers redeemable if their team won.
And so, while the UNLV fans were disappointed about their loss, they were only a little more disappointed than those of us hoping to capitalize on their misfortune.
At halftime of the nightcap, we trolled the concessions area in search of tickets. We were hardly alone in our quest. A hand•written sign drew notice, but just one potential seller. My friend offered $100 a ticket.
I coughed.
The seller scoffed.
Disappointed, we headed into the bitter cold night only to find our parking garage locked tight. A sign said it closed at 7 p.m.
With no way to get the car, no hotel rooms available for miles and – most painful of all, no tickets – we could only laugh.
As we started to wander aimlessly through the windy streets of Hartford, an attendant at another parking facility told us there was a security guard at our garage and he might – the emphasis being on the word might – be able to help us.
We never did get the tickets. But at least we got the car back.
Anyone got two?
