Stadium Views


How beer makes a medium an extra large and, Is it a lie, if you meant it when you said it? by gpiv
April 3, 2010, 2:20 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

Seventy seven bottles of beer in the fridge.  It ‘s a beautiful sunny day in Omaha.  A great day for a ball game.

I’ll continue my opinions of the fans tomorrow.  I thought with such a beautiful sunny day I might talk about what I see during a day selling t-shirts  during the College World Series.

I’ll start setting up t-shirts about eight in the morning.  That leaves nobody inside to watch the store.  Oh well, I have this great faith in humanity and that when you are good to people, they’re probably not going to steal from you.  I bet that some of you are laughing now and planning your next years heist.

In the morning there are two kinds of people on the street.  The scalpers and people looking for tickets.  Early each morning there are a block of tickets sold at the stadium for the days games.  Usually they are not very good seats but depending on the popularity of the game there may be a lot of people around. 

The other group of people are looking for seats.  They are hoping to grab some seats early so that they can go back to their hotel and relax until closer to game time. 

About four hours before game  time you get your shoppers.  There are a lot of options for t-shirts and cws memorabalia on 13th street.  And there is some price variability.  So you’ll get your gaggle of women who are looking for the right item or the right size.  They will come into my store and they will pull each folded t-shirt out of the bin and unfold lit to look at it as if the label inside which says it is exactly the same as the last is some kind of perverse trick on my part to keep those shirts away from them.  Then realizing that it is they who are wrong and not the label, they ball it up as if they have never folded laundry in their life and toss it back into the bin.

I don’t sell them much.  They usually don’t drink beer and certainly not at ten a.m.

The next group that comes around is part of my target group.  They are the men who come in and just want to get some quick items for friends back home or office mates here in Omaha.  They are not veteran shoppers, in fact most of them hate shopping.   After I offer them a beer, it doesn’t matter what size or design they need, it only matters what size and designs I have.  If they need an XL, they’ll take anything down to a medium, because I gave them free beer. 

If you opened a scrapbooking store and gave away free beer a lot more men would be scrapbooking.

About two and half hours before game time you start getting the fans from the teams that are playing, and the beer.  They are looking to socialize talk about the games and maybe pick up a few things.  Many will say they are going to come back after the game and get what they need.  If I had a dollar for every time someone said, “I don’t want to carry it into the stadium, I’ll see you after the game.”, I would be a millionaire.  If I had a dollar for everyone that came back…….. well, I probably do have a dollar for everyone that came back.

About and hour and a half before game time things really start hopping.  the ticket business is booming.  The hot chicks who were worried about their makeup melting if they got there too early are arriving, most on the arm of some guy.  Cleavage point is the place to be.

One out of three adults probably have an adult beverage of some kind in their hand.  ‘That percentage goes up when you talk about the adults dressed int he gear of the teams playing that day.  People are imbibing, but almost never in a bad way.  It is simply booster juice for many.  Their fanaticism increases with their BAC.

About an hour before game time you get the baseball fans.  They cared not about the shopping, the beer or the hot chicks.  It’s about the game and the College World Series.  Many,  if not most are from Omaha.  You will see a ninety year old father inching up the street with his sixty-five year old son helping him.  You will see a thirty-year old father with his seven-year old son, one or both of them with a baseball glove on their hand.  You will see a husband and wife who have been going to the games their entire marriage.  Sixty year old men with score books and cws t-shirts from ten years ago.  They’ve had their seats forever, or at least until forever ends next year.

And as game time approaches you get the late arrivers.  These are the people who just want to catch a few innings.  Last in, first out.

After the game starts, for about an hour and a half you’re left with the beer drinkers and the hot, semi hot, and thought they were hot chicks.  They never intended to go to the game and have thier sweaty bodies stick to those seats.  They took too long to prepare for this.

And then life goes full circle.  About an hour and a half after game time, back comes the shopping women.  Two or three innings is about all they can take.  Out comes each and every one of my t-shirts again, to be evaluated and rolled into a ball.

And then the male shoppers, back for a beer and their final purchases, and another.  Beer that is,  not purchase.

And then I wait for that one person who said they would be back and I just knew they meant it.  Then an hour after the last game, I lock the door.

After June 30th of this year I will be waiting a long time, because if you tell me you’ll be back I’ll believe you.

But will you?

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