How I bought counterfeit Cubs tickets to a playoff game
Editor's note: This story first appeared at theathletic.com, and is reprinted here with permission.
My first instinct was to swallow this story. It was something my friend Jordan and I could have kept to ourselves out of embarrassment, if nothing else.
But my pride shouldn't get in the way of a good depressing story, right?
The original idea was to walk over to Wrigley Field - I live a mile away - and see what sort of luck I'd have scalping tickets to Game 2 of the NLCS. I've been to hundreds of Chicago Cubs games in my lifetime and scalped plenty of tickets around the ballpark. I mentioned to one of my bosses that I might write about it. He was all for it, and I roped my friend Jordan into joining me.
We left my Lakeview home at 5:45 p.m. I told him we wouldn't spend more than $200 a ticket, and I didn't want to buy standing-room-only tickets. He was pessimistic about our chances. He hadn't seen a ticket for less than $300 on StubHub and the cheapest ticket on SeatGeek was $240 for standing room. I stopped at an ATM and withdrew $300.
The first scalper we encountered on Clark Street wanted $275 for a bleacher seat or 500 level and $515 for 100 level. The second asked for $225 for standing room and $300 for 200 level. The third sought $400 for 500 level. The fourth had bleachers for $400.
Jordan and I made a loop around Wrigley Field. We walked down Clark, turned right on Addison, left on Sheffield, left on Waveland and again left on Clark.
I told Jordan, "Maybe we should stop by the box office and just see if they have two tickets for us." We laughed and started that way. About 150 people were standing across about six lines in front of the box office windows on Clark. Could tickets really be available? The last person in line said possibly. It depended on how many tickets were returned off StubHub. Until that happened, these 150 people would just wait in a non-moving line while the people behind the windows occasionally refreshed their computers.
Jordan agreed to wait in line as I continued to search elsewhere. As I returned to the heart of Clark, I began running into the same desperate faces seeking tickets.
On the east side of the sidewalk, a scalper's intensity began to rise. He still had a number of tickets and needed to sell them. He was holding two 100-level tickets in his hand while his associates worked the corner. A guy walked by and asked, "How much?" The scalper said, "$600 apiece?" The guy replied, "Good luck." The scalper said, "I know."
I stopped by the corner to see what the cheapest two tickets were at. The price for two standing-room tickets was firm at $275.
Jordan called me and said his line was moving. He had been about 25 people back when we first started and now was within about 15 people around game time. And then, the tickets ran out again. The windows weren't closing just yet. They had to wait to see if more tickets would become available, so we waited, too.
Again, I went to see what I could find around the block. Again, I struck out. It was the bottom of the second inning.
I joined Jordan again. He was now within five people. But that was as close as we got. Everyone was advised tickets were sold out around 7:40 p.m., a half-hour after first pitch.
We began taking another lap. We met some scalpers on Sheffield. The first asked for $275 for 100 level. I countered with $200. He lowered to $250. I stuck at $200 and walked.
A few steps later another scalper made his pitch. He asked for $300 for 100 level. My offer again was $200. He went down a bit, but said, "I need to make money on them. I paid $200 for them." He walked away.
Jordan and I stuck around. I thought the area showed promise. A few minutes later, the second scalper said, "OK, $200." We paid him the $200 each.
I've done this a number of times before, paid cash on the street and had no issue getting into the ballpark. I consider myself somewhat street smart. My father was a Chicago cop. My brother is one. I know something about what to do and not to do. I told the scalper, "I want to wait here with you while he goes in." He reacted as a used-car salesman might react. He said, "Come on, man, I do this for living."
You want to believe people are honest. I shouldn't have.
Jordan walked across the street to Wrigley as I kept the eye on the scalper. He had sold his last ticket and began making his way down an alley off Sheffield. He was walking slowly, so I wasn't entirely worried. After a minute, I rang Jordan. He picked up and said, "They say it's a bad ticket." My heart dropped and my stomach turned.
I looked down the alley and didn't see the scalper. I knew I wouldn't be seeing him or my money again. I took my ticket to a box office window on Waveland, and my fears were confirmed. "You have a counterfeit ticket," I was told. It was explained to me my ticket didn't have a perforation line like real tickets should have.
How to explain that feeling? I know people describe it as feeling sick. It's really like someone removed something out of your body for those moments. I not only lost my money, but also Jordan's. I later paid him back. I just felt too bad about the whole ordeal.
We arrived at Bernie's in the bottom of the fourth inning. The Los Angeles Dodgers were winning 1-0 and Clayton Kershaw was throwing a no-hitter. The day wasn't getting any better. We drank and ate and watched the remainder of the game from the bar.
After the last out, we departed and made our way home. I couldn't help but look at everyone who walked by and just hoped I'd see the ticket scalper. Honestly, I don't know if I'd recognize him again.
• Scott Powers is lead hockey writer and contributor for The Athletic (Chicago). You can follow Scott on Twitter @byscottpowers, and catch his work at www.theathletic.com.