Not long ago many members of my family moved to South Florida, including my Mom. And for the first time in their lives they took in a Marlins home game. I recently had a phone conversation with my Mother about attending the game. She said something along the order it was next to impossible to buy a cheap ticket and move to the "good" seats.
The glee in his voice is usually reserved for assignments such as asking five "wacky questions" of Barry Bonds, but I'm calling his bluff.
I'm supposed to go to a Marlins game and buy a ticket for the worst seat in the house.
And then I'm supposed to sit in the best seat in the house.
I'm a champion of The Little Guy. Of Truth, Justice and the Frugal Way.
I'm a Professional Weasel.
I race toward Dolphin Stadium for Wednesday afternoon's Marlins-Washington Nationals game uncertain whether I'll end up in the blue seats or the slammer. The first option, I can deal with. Knowing my cheapskate editor, it's the latter that makes me wish Bonds were in town.
Read the article if you want to know if the intrepid reporter was able to pull of his assignment.
Since my Mother reads this blog, I expect to be called a smart aleck later tonight. It won't be the first time.