Thirty-five hundred dollars. Three thousand, five hundred. Cash. That is what I gave up to go to Game 1 of the Stanley Cup Final. Through a friend of a friend, I purchased lower bowl seats, five rows off the glass, for Game 1 of the Final between the Vegas Golden Knights and Washington Capitals. My cost — $1,050.
Ticket prices have been an issue in Vegas since the Knights really took off. While early season prices hovered around $40-60 on the Gametime app we all use frequently when getting tickets, the prices skyrocketed. Once the Knights surged in popularity and the hesitant fans really bought in, it became the hottest ticket in town. They jumped to $125-$200 per seat, a massive markup from the early part of the season.
Playoff tickets became an even bigger issue when the team offered a “Knights Vow” option. Full season members in good standing under their member agreements continued to enjoy the unique “Cheer Now, Pay Later” arrangement whereby members will attend the games first and make their payment at the conclusion of the round for the games played.
These secondary @GoldenKnights ticket prices are getting out of control! #GoKnightsGo
I’ll be there today at the T-Mobile Fortress, who else is in? pic.twitter.com/bI2ZyOyjc9
— Matt Savage (@SavagePoker) May 28, 2018
The seat I sat in for the Golden Knights v the Avalanche on October 27th that was a total of $70 out the door is currently listed on the VGK site for $780 for tonight's Stanley Cup Playoffs Game 1.
That's one hell of an increase in ticket prices!
— Mitzula (@Mitzula) May 28, 2018
When compared to the rest of the prices, I could say $535 per ticket wasn’t bad. Hell, I was willing to pay $1,000 for a World Series ticket in Chicago in 2016 (we enjoyed the festive provisions Wrigleyville had to offer instead) I was more than happy to pay premium for such a special moment. I purchased my seats three days before the game.
My wife and I were super excited — happier than Ralphie getting a Red Ryder on Christmas morning. Yes, that happy, and I hoped none of us would lose an eye as a result since a BB to the face hurts far less than a puck. My wife and I attended two dozen regular season games this year, and we’ve attended six playoff games, but this is the STANLEY CUP FINAL! We were ready to “create history.”
Game day arrived and we headed down to the T-Mobile arena. We revelled in all the pregame excitement. Beers, tattoos, Lil’ John, NHL network, corn hole, the Knight Line, all of it. What a scene! What a day! Wrigleyville during Game 1 of Chicago’s first World Series in a lifetime was a shit show. What transpired at T-Mobile was just insane.
At 3:37 p.m., as we headed over to enter the stadium, I got a text.
It read: HEY BRO, MY NAME IS DAN, YOU SOLD ME TICKETS TO THE KINGS GAME BACK IN NOVEMBER. I’M DESPERATE FOR TICKETS FOR THIS GAME. CAN U HELP? PLZ.
I texted him back: “No extras, just my own. Section 1. Should be a blast 2nite. Go Knights Go!”
One minute later? “WOULD YOU TAKE $4500?”
I almost dropped my phone, gathered myself, then showed my wife the text. My wife emphatically said: SELL ‘EM!
And so an internal debate began: I could net $3,500 profit and go watch the game at home, at a bar, outside with 10,000 crazed fans, or even at one the fine dining options Vegas has to offer. I could sell my tickets, then try to find cheaper tickets and still probably make decent profit. Or, I could ignore the devil on my shoulder (i.e. my wife), and just go inside the T-Mobile for what I figured would be one of the most memorable “knights” of my life.
Thirty-five hundred dollars isn’t chump change to a guy who makes his living in education and has three young kids at home (our daycare bill alone is $1380 a month). Thirty-five hundred smackers could buy a very decent car on Craigslist (or countless other services). It could also pay for me and my wife to travel to Europe for a week.
More important, though, it could also pay for one of my season tickets for the entire 2018-19 Golden Knights season. Thirty-five hundred dollars is nothing to squawk at for most middle-class citizens. Hell, that’s three months rent for the average American.
This decision was not to be taken lightly.
So, as I sat there in the afternoon sun with my beautiful wife and a healthy buzz from a few Sierra Nevada Torpedos while the excitement and energy of history continued to build to a crescendo, I had to make a decision. I looked at my wife, I looked at my phone, I looked at the stadium, I looked at my wife again, then texted Dan:
SORRY BRO, I APPRECIATE THE OFFER, BUT I CAN’T MISS THIS GAME.
I took my saint-of-a-wife’s hand and we made our way to the gates and, as the storybooks always say, the rest is history.
