Some things just are not meant to be

Having an opportunity to go to the World Series this year might be considered a Royal or Giant opportunity, depending on whether one views it in terms of its majesty or its size, I suppose. If you are a Kansas City Royals fan, it might even be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity since that is how often the Royals get there. It’s been 29 years since last time, right?

So, the opportunity arises, and all I can do is console myself with the age-old cliché that some things just are not meant to be. You might want to wait a bit before bursting into tears of sorrow for me. Though the opportunity isn’t as bogus as those telemarketer calls you receive day in and day out, taking advantage of it is about as likely as winning the Publisher’s Clearing House prize of however many millions it is now.

Actually, the opportunity to plant my buns on a seat in Kaufman Stadium in Kansas City has its roots in our family DNA of finding humor where others might not. In this instance, my daughter and son-in-law are the agents of opportunity.

Son-in-law Art received an e-mail in which a woman is offering for sale a ticket in “Amazing Seats” for game one and a ticket in “Great Seats” for game two. The e-mail suggests contacting her husband (phone number listed) or herself (phone number also listed), but says not to reply to the e-mail as “I am gone for the day.” Apparently not gone to scout out the seats, though, since their location is given and she is trying to sell said tickets.

Oh, I suppose you might want to know the ticket prices. The one in “Amazing Seats” is available for only $1,250, no more than the cost of a good hammer or saw in a government construction project. And the one in “Great Seats” is available for a mere pittance, $900 even.

Art, not a sports fan and therefore probably unaware of the real value of such a treasure as a ticket to a World Series game, especially a game in which one team hasn’t been to the series in the lifetime of many fans who will be watching, forwarded the e-mail to Cindy, his wife and my daughter (if she still claims me after reading this), with his reaction: “All I can say is ‘Mercy.’”

To which she responded: “Indeed! Yikes! (I tried to raise her right, but obviously she, too, does not have full appreciation of the importance of the World Series and the historic significance of the 2014 Series. And she lives in suburban KC!) You should forward that to Dad and see if he’s interested—ha! J”

Am I interested in attending a World Series game? Does the sun rise in the East?

So, Art zips the e-mail through cyberspace to me with the comment: “Interested? J”

First, I took note of the ticket prices and came to the immediate realization that any resemblance between those prices and my bank account was purely coincidental. However, I did a little Google search and discovered that the $1,250 ticket in “Amazing Seats,” Section 240, Row JJ is for a seat second level up right behind first base. I don’t know that I would go so far as to classify that seat as amazing, but it would be in the “right-good” category.

How about the cheap $900 ticket labeled as being in “Great Seats”? It is for Section 251, Row BB. Where’s that? Second level up in right field. At my age, I might find it difficult to walk that far to get to the seat, and I would need my binoculars to see the batter. I would probably just have to assume that there was actually a ball being used in the game.

Desiring to answer my son-in-law’s inquiry as to whether I was interested, I responded: “Will let you know as soon as I have time to check my pocket change. J”

To which, he said: “Well, if it matters at all, I could drop you off at the stadium as I couldn’t afford the parking…”

Well, as I said, some things just are not meant to be. I have to pass on this opportunity, but there is some consolation.

While I won’t be in the stadium, I won’t have to drive all the way to Kansas City and sit in a hard stadium seat, scrunched between beer drinkers. I’ll sit in my easy chair and have an unblocked view of the TV set. My snack won’t be a $7.50 hotdog, and I won’t be interrupted by having to pass a drink or a sack of peanuts down the row.

Oh, and I can visit the bathroom during commercial breaks and not miss a pitch. Can the person in the $1,250 “amazing seat” do that?