Bank One Ballpark has become a flea market. If it's not nailed down, it probably has a price tag.
This new policy of selling everything in sight, from batting practice to throwing out the first pitch, is beyond offensive.
It's crude. It's ugly. It's the final frontier in the total commercialization of sports.
Yet as much as I'd love to barbecue the new regime for taking a giant slurp at the trough, I can't say I blame them.
If you haven't noticed, the turnstiles are growing rusty at BOB. Already in the midst of a precipitous three-year decline in attendance, the Diamondbacks were averaging only 26,812 fans per game through 16 home dates. They are one of 12 teams operating under 55 percent capacity.
You say it's early? Sorry, those excuses are reserved for cold-weather cities.
The schedule has been unattractive? Sorry, they opened with the Cubs and already have hosted series against the Giants and the Dodgers.
You're waiting to see if they're any good? Sorry, they've been consistently good from the start, lingering on the doorstep of first place.
Ticket prices are too high and you'd rather watch the Suns on TV? Fine, I'll buy that one.
Problem is, this is not a temporary problem. From 2002-2004, overall attendance at BOB has dipped from an average of 39,494 (second in the National League) to 34,636 (fifth) to 31,106 (eighth). This year, early numbers are an accountant's nightmare.
The 16-game total of 428,989 tickets sold is more than 100,000 off last year's pace, when 531,423 tickets were purchased through the same number of dates. In 2003, the Diamondbacks sold 521,963 tickets through 16 games.
What's worse, the five smallest crowds in Arizona history have all occurred in the early stages of 2005, including three games when less than 20,000 tickets were sold.
Because these numbers all reflect paid attendance, not actual bodies in the seats, the issue is getting very slippery.
http://www.azcentral.com/sports/cheapseats/articles/0508chinmusic0508.html
This new policy of selling everything in sight, from batting practice to throwing out the first pitch, is beyond offensive.
It's crude. It's ugly. It's the final frontier in the total commercialization of sports.
Yet as much as I'd love to barbecue the new regime for taking a giant slurp at the trough, I can't say I blame them.
If you haven't noticed, the turnstiles are growing rusty at BOB. Already in the midst of a precipitous three-year decline in attendance, the Diamondbacks were averaging only 26,812 fans per game through 16 home dates. They are one of 12 teams operating under 55 percent capacity.
You say it's early? Sorry, those excuses are reserved for cold-weather cities.
The schedule has been unattractive? Sorry, they opened with the Cubs and already have hosted series against the Giants and the Dodgers.
You're waiting to see if they're any good? Sorry, they've been consistently good from the start, lingering on the doorstep of first place.
Ticket prices are too high and you'd rather watch the Suns on TV? Fine, I'll buy that one.
Problem is, this is not a temporary problem. From 2002-2004, overall attendance at BOB has dipped from an average of 39,494 (second in the National League) to 34,636 (fifth) to 31,106 (eighth). This year, early numbers are an accountant's nightmare.
The 16-game total of 428,989 tickets sold is more than 100,000 off last year's pace, when 531,423 tickets were purchased through the same number of dates. In 2003, the Diamondbacks sold 521,963 tickets through 16 games.
What's worse, the five smallest crowds in Arizona history have all occurred in the early stages of 2005, including three games when less than 20,000 tickets were sold.
Because these numbers all reflect paid attendance, not actual bodies in the seats, the issue is getting very slippery.
http://www.azcentral.com/sports/cheapseats/articles/0508chinmusic0508.html
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