With two World Series championships in the last four years, it should be against the law to complain about anything Red Sox in New England. Clearly expectations have been exceeded to an exponential degree. So has ticket demand.
Yesterday, single game tickets went on sale for the majority of the 2008 season. The process is simple enough: you log on at Redsox.com, either hit a Buy Tickets link and choose a game or click onto the schedule. From there you advance to Purgatory on Yawkey Way: The Virtual Waiting Room. Apparently, millions of other people are trying to do the same thing at the same time. Should you be lucky enough to be one of those randomly selected to advance from the VWR, you get a shot at tickets.
The Hangover logged on at approximately 10:15 yesterday morning. When the Hangover retired for the evening at 10:45 (explaining why we’re called the Hangover and not Mr. Excitement) the VWR was still flawlessly preforming its 30-second reloading loop. It even keeps you updated on the games that are sold out or have few seats left. If only it would let you past its electronic gate.
Upon awaking this morning, I found that my steadfast Dell had advanced and I was afforded the opportunity to trade some plastic for tickets. Being a wise baseball fan, I discerned that going after a lousy team would be the best chance for the family Hangover to see some baseball. How about a game versus the pathetic Royals on a Wednesday night in May? Let’s face it, the kids won’t know the difference. I selected four tickets, clicked on “Best Available,” and advanced past the anti-ticket agency barriers.
What I received was this: “We’re sorry, we’re unable to process your request due to high transaction volumes. Please try to submit your request again by hitting the CONTINUE button.” (It happens to be the exact same message I encountered when purchasing tickets last year.)
I hammered the CONTINUE harder than the Sox batters bashed the Rockies’ pitchers in game one of last year’s Series. I had none of their luck, however. I did try different games. Eventually, I was graced with the opportunity to purchase four standing room tickets for an Orioles game. No thanks. I’ll pass. The Seadogs are only thirty minutes away.
I won’t be barking at the set this season, telling Francona to take a starter out with two on and none out in the seventh. He’s proven he knows what he’s doing. I can’t say the same for those in the business office, who apparently failed to anticipate another year of Red Sox Nation storming cyberspace for tickets.
“Hey, Larry! If there’s a $14.5 million-per-year computer geek out there with big market, ‘high transaction volume’ experience, go get him. Please.”