MNSnowman
12-18-2008, 01:15 PM
Son-of-Snowman has been hounding me to take him to a T'wolves game. Two days ago I got a call that a co-worker of SoS would be honored during the middle of Wednesday's game against the Cavaliers. (The person who called to offer us tickets asked if we'd be interested and threw in that "LeBrown (sic) Jones (sic)" would be there!)
Never being one to turn down free tickets to impress our youngest son, I quickly agreed. Even better (I thought) -- we'd get to sit in one of those corporate suites. In all the years I'd attended 'Wolves games, I'd never gotten into one of the suites. (Every time "my (annual) turn" at the corporate suite held by my former employer, something seemed to intervene.)
So, we arrive. The suite is pretty nice in terms of accomodations: nice leather stadium seats, private bathroom, wet bar, snacks, flat-screen TV, etc. Comely young ladies who will scamper away with your drink order and return it to you nicely ... the ice melting from the heat of her, uh, personality. (Yeah, that's the word.)
The co-worker gets honored and it's a nice ceremony on the court, televised on the scoreboard. But during the whole time, there's the piped in music (courtesy of some DJ doing the old 'watch me spin records backwards' routine) ... Crunch is doing some schtick ... Hoopman is eliciting hoops and hollers from other fans who want to shoot the miniature basketball into the strapped-on basket. Except for us in our corporate box, nobody seems to pay much attention to the recognition which is kind of sad (but also kind of typical).
Wolves are playing fairly decent ball in the first half and are within 6 points. In the third quarter, they actually pull within one point of the Cavs and are only three points behind with two minutes left. However, there's no apparent crowd excitement ... just polite applause that is no louder than when LeBron scores a nice basket (which he does with some regularity against Gomes).
But at that point -- maybe reinforced during the break between quarters and what I'm sure was an inspiring Chalk Talk by Kevin McHale -- the wheels fell off. The Cavs's lead grew, and grew and grew even more. Final score was 70-93.
Even the beer vendors walking the aisles showed more intensity than the 'Wolves.
My conclusions are four-fold:
Corporate suites are nice but I felt more detached from the game than I did years ago when I bought "1/3rd of a season" season tickets three rows up from the rail in the second level. You're more involved than watching the game at home in the family room ... but not by much. And the drinks are much more expensive in the suites ... plus Mrs Snowman is prettier.
There is no such thing as a free lunch ... or free tickets. You may not pay cash, but pay you will in other ways. At least Son-of-Snowman was happy ... but I'll never get those two hours (plus) of my life back.
Taylor needs to just blow this team up and start all over again.
Next year's season tickets will be offered at fire-basement prices. The combination of a lousy economy and an even lousier team (including ineffective coaching and management) will translate into fewer renewals and dissipated interest.
And to think I was despondent when the 'Wolves almost moved to New Orleans. :o At least back then we had JR Rider's mom to keep us entertained.
Never being one to turn down free tickets to impress our youngest son, I quickly agreed. Even better (I thought) -- we'd get to sit in one of those corporate suites. In all the years I'd attended 'Wolves games, I'd never gotten into one of the suites. (Every time "my (annual) turn" at the corporate suite held by my former employer, something seemed to intervene.)
So, we arrive. The suite is pretty nice in terms of accomodations: nice leather stadium seats, private bathroom, wet bar, snacks, flat-screen TV, etc. Comely young ladies who will scamper away with your drink order and return it to you nicely ... the ice melting from the heat of her, uh, personality. (Yeah, that's the word.)
The co-worker gets honored and it's a nice ceremony on the court, televised on the scoreboard. But during the whole time, there's the piped in music (courtesy of some DJ doing the old 'watch me spin records backwards' routine) ... Crunch is doing some schtick ... Hoopman is eliciting hoops and hollers from other fans who want to shoot the miniature basketball into the strapped-on basket. Except for us in our corporate box, nobody seems to pay much attention to the recognition which is kind of sad (but also kind of typical).
Wolves are playing fairly decent ball in the first half and are within 6 points. In the third quarter, they actually pull within one point of the Cavs and are only three points behind with two minutes left. However, there's no apparent crowd excitement ... just polite applause that is no louder than when LeBron scores a nice basket (which he does with some regularity against Gomes).
But at that point -- maybe reinforced during the break between quarters and what I'm sure was an inspiring Chalk Talk by Kevin McHale -- the wheels fell off. The Cavs's lead grew, and grew and grew even more. Final score was 70-93.
Even the beer vendors walking the aisles showed more intensity than the 'Wolves.
My conclusions are four-fold:
Corporate suites are nice but I felt more detached from the game than I did years ago when I bought "1/3rd of a season" season tickets three rows up from the rail in the second level. You're more involved than watching the game at home in the family room ... but not by much. And the drinks are much more expensive in the suites ... plus Mrs Snowman is prettier.
There is no such thing as a free lunch ... or free tickets. You may not pay cash, but pay you will in other ways. At least Son-of-Snowman was happy ... but I'll never get those two hours (plus) of my life back.
Taylor needs to just blow this team up and start all over again.
Next year's season tickets will be offered at fire-basement prices. The combination of a lousy economy and an even lousier team (including ineffective coaching and management) will translate into fewer renewals and dissipated interest.
And to think I was despondent when the 'Wolves almost moved to New Orleans. :o At least back then we had JR Rider's mom to keep us entertained.