I went to see a couple of baseball games in St. Louis last week. The marketing gurus of the Cardinals had been working overtime. Already there were plenty of John Smoltz shirts for sale in the stadium’s team store, even though the veteran pitcher had only made two starts for the team and may not be around after next month.
The economics of major league baseball dictates a revolving door of players. Only five of the 25 ballplayers on the 2006 World Championship squad are still on the team. And by observing the dozens of jerseys in the stands bearing the names of Eckstein, Rolen, Edmonds and a host of others, apparently fans aren’t shy about shelling out $30 to $180 bucks to wear the name of a player who will be traded away or not resigned soon after achieving glory in the Gateway City.
But the real eye-opener for me came in where we sat for the Thursday afternoon game, in the back row of a section that is in front of a fully stocked bar. Hundreds of people, who presumably have paid anywhere from $20 to $100 for a ticket to watch the game, spent the entire afternoon drinking. It’s a custom I don’t quite understand. I comprehend the socializing aspect of hanging out at a bar, but why do so many people — most of them affluent, good-looking young people — feel the need to spend $7.75 on beer after beer at a ballgame that they don’t even care about?
Occasionally people would glance up at one of the ubiquitous TV screens located above the bar. But only when Albert Pujols came up with the bases loaded in the eighth inning did anyone really pay attention.
I understand why the ballpark tolerates it. There are tremendous profits to be made, even deducting for paying a police officer to stand guard in case a riot breaks out.
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