By Michael Lucinski on 11/5/07
"No ticket."
— Indiana Jones
Paper will be a foreign concept to my grandchildren. Everything will download to their laptops/frontal lobes/eyelids/whatever. Thus, they will never know the joy of a ticket stub collection. What can better transmit through time the memories of events past? What better serves as a trophy, without all the gutting, powder burns and secret drunken sodomy of actual hunting?
I have approximately 40 ticket stubs (and countless others lost) from major and minor league sporting events in two countries, four states and the District of Columbia. Like much in life, not all were memorable and nothing was historic (Though almost; See below.) Many were entertaining, however. Please follow along my trip down memory lane for some laughs, some good times, even a few tears (I am a Bills fan, after all.)
Miami Dolphins @ Buffalo Bills — Dec. 30, 1995
I remember next to nothing about this game. I think the game wasn't as close as the score indicates, a 37-22 Buffalo victory. But I do know this: I personally witnessed the last Bills playoff victory. They lost the next week at Pittsburgh, the next year at home against Jacksonville and twice more on the road (including the Music City Abortion). The team with the best regular season winning record of the 90's is (as of 2:17 p.m. on Sept. 30, 2007) mired in a decade-long funk with no playoff appearances, one winning record, a 2-13 record against New England and as of press time possesses the worst offense AND defense in the NFL. But at least I witnessed the last gasp of their franchise high point.
(Here come those tears.)
Portland Rage @ Buffalo Stampede — Sept. 2, 1994
Never let anyone say Buffalo never won a championship. For the unfamiliar, the Stampede were Buffalo's original Roller Hockey International franchise. (I know you're jealous.) Two years in theater and then they were replaced by the Buffalo Wings. (Har, har. The logo was a pterodactyl, not a chicken wing.) The RHI is long dead, but that inaugural Stampede team was a star that lit up … absolutely nothing. I know they won the game and thus the championship (Buffalo! City of Champions!). Don't ask me the score. What made the greatest impression was what happened afterwards.
This game was played in the cavernous Memorial Auditorium. After the game and Buffalo's victory (glorious, to be sure), the drunken fans were smashing recessed lights in the narrow hallways. Looking back, I can only imagine what that celebration would have been if the Sabres had just won the Stanley Cup, instead of the Stampede winning a book of McDonald's coupons. I'm confident that someday we'll wish we had the opportunity to find out.
THE GLORY.
Washington Capitals @ Buffalo Sabres — Nov. 26, 2003
I don't remember anything about this game, a 5-2 victory for the post-Dominik Hasek, pre-Briere/Drury/Miller Buffalo Sabres. This was during the dark, playoff-less time when the franchise's mere existence was in question.
No, what catches my attention is the adorable baby on the ticket. (He might have been the fourth goalie on the team. Like I said, dark times.) I wonder what he would say if a) he could talk and b) if he knew the life of sports misery he was doomed to?
"What, what's this jer- Oh god. OH GOD NO! Look, look Pops, I'll make a deal with you. Please, let's move to any other city, even Canada. In exchange, I won't crap for a month. Ya hear that? No poopy diapers for a month. Just don't make me wear this devil goat jersey again. Deal? Pops? Ma?"
Carolina Hurricanes @ Buffalo Sabres — Dec. 26, 2003
"I hate my parents."
St. Louis Cardinals @ Washington Nationals — Sept. 4, 2006
The closest I've ever come to witnessing sports history in person. My (now) wife and I went to the game on a whim on a aimless Labor Day. Six dollars for two tickets was double the cost of parking at RFK Stadium. You'll never go broke underestimating Washingtonians' ability to be gouged in the name of convenience.
Journeyman Nationals pitcher Ramon Ortiz (playing for who now? The Aberdeen Ironbirds?) had a no hitter going into the top of the 9th inning. Around the 7th, the crowd was officially in "Don't Jinx This" mode — sitting on the edge of their seats, cheering louder than normal for each out. Of course, my (now) wife had no idea what was going on. I told her at some point between 7th and 8th inning. (Don't get ahead of the story, but you know where this is going).
I tried not to use the words "no hitter," but couldn't convey my point. It was like a bad episode of "Full House" where Danny, Jesse and Joey try to explain sex to Michelle without saying the word. I think I employed finger puppets at one point. Eventually I just said the cursed phrase.
In the bottom of the eighth, I called my brother, who lives in the St. Louis area. While I was on the phone telling him what was happening without actually telling him (I know, closing the barn door after the horses fled), Ortiz came to bat. After he crushed the first pitch for a home run, I don't think I was speaking English into the phone, more like high-pitched monkey screeches.
Alas, the no-hitter was busted up by the first batter of the 9th inning, a solid single to center nobody had a play for. Oh well, at least it would be a shutout following a double play. (And nobody knew that I pretty much jinxed Ortiz earlier, thus preventing the first Southern white man lynching in many years.) Then Albert Pujols stepped to the plate. Moments later, his home run landed two sections away in RFK's upper deck. Do they make pirate cannons disguised as baseball bats? Yeesh.
Though the end result was a 4-1 Nats victory over the eventual (and mediocre) World Series champions, the win felt second to the almost-history made.
Jacksonville Jaguars @ Buffalo Bills — Nov. 26, 2006
This was the most exciting Bills game I ever attended. My Dad, my (now) wife and I grabbed some tickets off eBay on Thanksgiving weekend. Twenty dollar (!) parking charge aside, a fun time was had by all.
This was during the mini-J.P. Losman "Maybe he isn't awful" renaissance. At one point during the game when Jacksonville had the ball, I went to the bathroom. While at the urinal trough, I heard the radio broadcast of Buffalo's defensive stand on third and short. I was able to get to the top of my section in enough time to see Roscoe Parrish stumble and bumble his way to a punt return touchdown.
We had pretty good seats. Ex-Bill Willis McGahee scored shortly after this photograph.
The story of the game, however, was the final drive by the Bills' offense to break a late tie. Uh, they did it for a change, instead of Losman throwing an interception or punting on 4-and-2 from the Jags 31. A Rian Lindell 42-yard field goal with no time left gave the Bills a 27-24 win, a 5-6 record and a glimmer of hope for a playoff spot and Losman's future. Of course, they lost their final two games and Losman might be on the way out, but hey, it was a good feeling that day.
Florida Marlins @ New York Mets — Aug. 11, 2007
My groomsmen and I traveled to New York City for a weekend of debauchery. (I have scars from our visit to the Times Square Toys 'R Us.) At the top of the list was a visit to Shea Stadium (The Yankees weren't in town). I'm not the biggest baseball fan (How could I be? My choices are the Nationals or the Orioles. Yikes.) I just wanted to experience some New York baseball. And we did.
Meet those Mets.
After settling in to our seats, my (new) brother-in-law pointed to somebody about ten to twelve rows down. We kept staring at his back and debated back and forth. Is that back hair, or is that a horrible tattoo? Digital camera zoom lens photographic evidence was inconclusive. I ventured closer for some human intelligence. My conclusion: back hair, possibly visible from space.
Take a look at this, ya freakin' aliens.
Tom Glavine started for the Mets. This was his first or second start after his 300th win. Mets fans gave him standing ovations seemingly after every appearance, as though he didn't notch most of those 5 and 2/3 inning wins with Atlanta. Quite odd, almost like they were applauding as a way to say "Thank you for playing for us", sotto voce "and not for the Yankees." (What would they say after his 7-run, 1/3 inning against Florida in Game 162? "Impale yourself on Liberty's torch?")
To our right was a group of young guys, the type who graduated from college three to five years ago, but still do keg stands, live in filthy group houses and have six-month old Maxim issues in their bathrooms. One *ahem* gentlemen in particular was loudly booing everybody wearing non-Mets gearing. New York Yankees, Chicago Cubs, Boston Red Sox, Dallas Cowboys, Green Bay Packers — everybody. Please allow a demonstration:
(Innocent spectator walking by 15 rows away, wearing an Oakland Raiders jersey)
Obnoxious Mets fan: BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO RAIDERS! BOOOOOOOOOOOO RAIDERS!
(Innocent spectator walks by while looking stunned.)
Obnoxious Mets fan: BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
(Innocent spectator leaves. Mets employee taking photographs walks by, refuses to stop for Obnoxious Mets fan.)
Obnoxious Mets Fan: BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO PHOTO LADY! BOOOOOOOOOO!
Oliver Perez entered the game as middle relief for New York. (I can hear Mets fans rolling their eyes.) I don't remember the exact details because I was afraid our belligerent stadium-mate would notice the stylized "W" on my ball cap and think I'm both a Nats fan and a Bush supporter.
But after he gave up a grand slam home run, we thought a riot would break out. I don't think I've ever heard a crowd boo one of their players so loudly. The Marlins ended up winning 7-5. We beat a retreat to the subway shortly thereafter. I didn't want to get stabbed on the #7 train on the way back to Manhattan. Toys 'R Us was bad enough.
Questions? Comments? Buffalo Stampede? E-mail me at mlucinski@yahoo.com.
Michael Lucinski lives, loves and works in Maryland. He's a graduate of the University at Buffalo and the George Washington University. The greatest athletic performance I witnessed was Ramon Ortiz? Here come more tears.
And hey, check out some of my greatest hits:
The Biggest Douchebags
Attack of the Sequels
The New Guy