Tuesday, January 17, 2012

The Season Ticket Ladder

An obsession with ladders appears common in today's status-obsessed, capitalist-driven society. Be it housing, career or even social. Never one to shy away from such trends I joined one of my own last month, the sports season ticket ladder.
Ludicrous (you may think). There is no such thing (you may add). I for one would have agreed with you, in my previous incarnation as a British resident. I supported a football team. I bought a season ticket. I went to games. Very simple stuff, and all for around 300 of my lovely pound sterling (this was a West Brom season ticket after all). There were few gimmicks, little deviation on price, and I went to as many games as possible. If I couldn't go I'd let my cousins fight it out for the privilege (not literally, I don't think, although maybe I should check that with my aunt).
Now in my current incarnation as an American non-resident (one up from tourist) the season ticket sphere is one of options. Plenty of options. If this were an automated phone service the options would start with "Which professional sport do you require"? Being well drilled in most sports my answer would be option six (for all five), if it weren't for this damn ladder. As with all ladders you generally start at the bottom, which for me means basketball. The Washington Wizards to be precise. Or to be even more on the ball, the worst team in the NBA.
Due to the team being the worst, the advantages of becoming a season ticket holder are ramped up. Unlike a Capitals or Redskins season ticket, Wizards packages are in plentiful supply, meaning the prices are as much as 63 percent lower compared to single game options. This happens in Britain too sometimes, I'll concede, but the rest of the package clearly doesn't. As an extra sweetener (and believe me, America likes sweeteners) the new home jersey was thrown into the mix. Not bad I think you'll agree. But it doesn't stop there. Along with the jersey comes a bobblehead set of the starting lineup, a pin badge, a shoulder bag, a food and drink voucher for the concession stands inside the arena, and seven extra tickets for selected home games. All this makes the American season ticket ladder a very attractive one to be on, even at the lowest of levels. But if you don't like basketball, there is still a point to getting on the ladder. The second-hand ticket market (touting in English, scalping in American). Seen as the gutter of all gutters by many British sports fans, the second-hand market has opened up on a large scale in the last few years Stateside. eBay company StubHub is a big reason for this, creating an online market place for buyers and sellers of sport and entertainment tickets. It is now possible not only to sell unwanted tickets to other "fans", but also to buy up a number of season tickets for the expressed reason to sell them on, in some cases for huge profits.
The Wizards price reduction offer is a good example of second-hand profit waiting to happen. The morals of this would be debated at length in Britain (and probably will be now StubHub has started a specific British site), but in America it is mainly seen as another money-making venture. Another nod to capitalism. On the plus side, if you want a ticket to a sold out event, you can always get one.
For my part, being on the ladder means I get to go to which ever Wizards' games I want. I can at least get my money back on games I don't want to go to (or make a profit whenever the Miami Heat come to town), and best of all, I save on Christmas presents due to the freebies. Who said the free market doesn't work!

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