The Peanut Man Cometh (cont'd)

Reaching the corner, I look up at the street sign. Thankfully, it still says 3rd Street. Willie Brown may have Miami-fied the Embarcadero, but he hasn't put his name on the 3rd Street Riviera yet. I pedal north into a light breeze. This all used to be water, but nowadays Mission Bay signifies biotech, stem cells, PCR, and, oh yeah, women and children. There's a chicken burrito, a couple of Bud talls, and some duct tape in my backpack--all the trappings of a great day out, Tubesox Nation style--and as soon as I hear the hopeful mantra of the ambulatory ticket brokers, I start thinking about going for the cycle.

I pull the bike onto the sidewalk, and the usual negotiations ensue . . .
Who's got tickets?
I'm looking for two.
Forty dollars apiece, these are real good ones.
I'm looking for your worst tickets, I say, pulling the old switcheroo.
The ambo produces more tickets from his pocket and adjusts his strategy. Okay, I'll give you these two for fifty.
My friend won't pay that, I say, scrambling for leverage.
What's he paying then?
He's not picking up the phone.
Watchoo paying then?
Two for twenty five.
Ah, man. The ambo is taking it personally.

A while later, an older ambo promises me he'll get me two for 25, limping off at a none too encouraging pace. The sun is hot and it becomes apparent that he's not returning, so I head a short ways up 3rd and take refuge under a billboard. Peanuts . . . sunflower seeds . . . one dollar! A peanut vendor is working a steady procession of fans who walk past from the parking lots. Caramel apples . . . two dollars! The woman selling the apples fans herself with her homemade sign. She's got her work cut out for her, selling Halloween treats in April, and being downstream from the Peanut Man doesn't make things easier. Peanuts . . . sunflower seeds . . . one dollar! The ambos circulate like sharks, pausing occasionally in the cool shade of the billboard. I keep naming my price, and they keep taking great personal affront to the suggestion, the mere thought really, of two for $25. The ball game may have begun inside The Big Mortgage, but they've got their pride and their bottom line to look after. Whatta you need, man, the Peanut Man asks finally. I tell him and he seems sympathetic. You're gonna be holding them, he scolds the ambos, they're gonna be cardboard on the wall tonight. But nobody's budging, so the Peanut Man gets down to business (click on picture below to listen).



Thirteen Ks earns Lincecum a seat on the bench to watch his bullpen buddies cough up a run in the ninth. Chalk up an "L" for the Giants. Grumbling about Sabean and Renteria on the way out. A guy in a bar afterwards, wishing on a star for Barry's iminent return. Sometime later, I happen to glance at my ticket stub: it says $10. The old 3rd Street alchemy: spinning $25 out of $20 worth of cardboard. But in the afterglow of a season-opening five-bagger, it feels like money well spent.


money paid to Giants (estimated loss to organization):

:( Parking: $0
:( Tickets: $0 ($10)
:( Food: $0 ($14)
:( Drink $0 ($26.25)
:( Authorized MLB Merch $0
-----------
Total: $0 ($50.25)


Local Businesses Supported:

:) $6 for chicken burrito to Castillito Taqueria, Church nr. Duboce

:) $3.50 for beer at a local market

:) $25 to ambulatory ticket brokers for tickets