It’s the end of summer, so I’m knee deep in Husker Football season right about now.
I’m not an expert on the subject. I can tell you the basics. How many points for a touchdown, what color shirt to wear on game day, and a few fun historical facts about Bugeaters and Soap Games. Anything beyond that? Well here… have some nachos.
Oh, yes. And season tickets. I know a little bit about season tickets. One of my buddies has season tickets. And, of course, there’s always a game or two they can’t make it to. One of my other co-workers found out about that, the other day. It’s amazing how fast those ears perked up at just the possibility of tickets in the twilight-zone. *end zone. I meant, end zone*. Pavlov ain’t got nothin’ on Tom Osborne.
There are old-school football fans who talk about the Halcyon Days of Yore, when students could attend games for free, but by the time I came around? Well, football tickets were something you wanted, but couldn’t have. You know… like world peace, or a racing unicorn. Even if there’s one available, you can’t afford to keep it. The one time I even got close? I was threatened with expulsion–in writing–if I so much as thought about selling the ticket to a third party.
People who have season tickets generally got them a million billion years ago when the earth was new.
If someone has season tickets, they have been sitting in those seats, next to the very same people for most of their lives. They would like to stay on good terms with those people for generations to come. No amount of wheedling is going to convince someone to give or sell you tickets unless they like you.
Co worker is not getting tickets.
I’m not sure he understands that. Everyone else in the room was perfectly clear, though.