Note: Mike’s on his honeymoon until September 28! Enjoy this auto-published post and help pray that some giant breaking news didn’t drop minutes before this fun yet otherwise fluffy post went up.
I know it’s probably blasphemous to say, but I have to be honest: I kind of love Petco Park. Every time I’ve been there, it’s been a fantastic experience. The first time I went was several years ago, in what I believe was the first game of John Smoltz‘ short time as a Cardinal. After sitting in the upper deck of a half-empty park for a few innings, we went closer and closer until in the bottom of the ninth, we were sitting in the lower deck, about 20 rows behind home plate.
An usher came up to us and asked to see our tickets, and we knew were busted, so we came clean right away and admitted that these were not our seats.
“Where are you from?”
New Jersey, we answered.
“Well, I can’t let you boys sit here.”
Yeah, we know, was the reply.
“Come with me. I’ve got better seats that you can use.”
And so he did, leading us down to about five rows behind home plate in what were and will likely always will be the best view I’ve ever had of a big league baseball game, if only for an inning. Fan experience counts, you know? Because here I am, three years later, still telling that story.
