Last Sunday, in what has become a yearly tradition, I headed to the Boston Fleet Bank TD Garden North Center to see the Celtics take on the Chicago Bulls.
It was a great game for the C's - if they only had had to play three quarters of basketball. After leading by as many as 12, the team fell apart in the final minutes of the game, with Paul Pierce going scoreless in the last three minutes of play. They handed the Bulls a 101-97 victory and all but eliminated themselves from playoff contention.
Overall, it was a less-than-stellar game, but thankfully, sporting events are no longer simply about the "game," but about all the other extraneous crap one can think of to fill the time between tip off and the long drive home.
I think the "C" no longer stands for "Celtics" but "Comfort," at least for half the fans at the Garden on Sunday. Our tickets, which I received for my birthday, put us up in the "Luxury" area. There would be no wooden fold-out seats for us, but rather plush, swiveling office chairs that offered a view of the game away from the masses.
At our seats we had mini televisions to watch anything we wanted: news, sports, even the current game that was unfolding live in front of us. When that got boring, we could head into the restaurant and bar directly behind us. No more popcorn and hotdogs; this place catered to the bourgeois tastes of every sports fan, offering imported beers, lobster rolls and an ice cream sundae bar.
Lining the walls of the restaurant were flat screen televisions that showed the final minutes of the UConn-George Mason game. As UConn's last shot harmlessly dribbled off the rim, half the crowd groaned in despair while the rest cheered for the demise of the school from the faux New England state - all this with the din of a live basketball game in progress in the background.
Earlier, as my friend and I wound our way through the complex stadium in search of our seats, we passed the luxury boxes that litter the top floors of the Garden. The doors to some of these were open, and we glanced in at fully catered palaces, mini living rooms affording an escape from the ruckus of the game outside.
Why, oh why, oh why do you go to a live sporting event if not for the game? Suddenly the value of a day at the park, the stadium or the arena has become less about how the home team fares, and more about how comfortable your seats are, how luxurious the atmosphere, how prompt the service and how quality the food. These are the criteria to measure a hotel, not a sporting event.
Even my beloved Red Sox have succumbed to the luxury-seating craze with their .406 Club. The area features theater-style seating and a climate-controlled environment, an ironic feature for a section named in honor of the batting feat accomplished by the now-frozen Sox hero, Ted Williams.
These types of seats are nice, but something's lost from the game. Even though luxury seating puts you close to the action, you really couldn't feel more removed from the game. Placed behind a low Plexiglas wall, you feel like you're at the zoo. It's really not even the seating that bugs me, but the complete excess.
Sitting down with the crowds, eating the standard stadium fare, complaining about a hard, uncomfortable seat and being jostled by the extra-large, overzealous super-fan sitting next to you is what the experience should be about. But at the exorbitant prices most ball clubs charge for even mid-level seating, it's hard to completely condemn those who would opt for the luxury option.
As we sat watching the final minutes of the Celtics game, the fans just below us, some with green painted faces holding signs and chanting for "The Truth" to come alive, looked to be having a lot more fun than those besides us, sitting stoically, politely clapping now and then for a good play. As my buddy and I pounded on the table in front of us, I half expected one of the wait staff to ask us to refrain from such jocular behavior.
While "The Truth" never answered and most fans sulkily headed home after the loss, the spectators in the upper rings of the Garden filed out quietly. At least it had been a comfortable game for them.
