The wheels have started to come off for Uncle Steve’s Mets fanbase

Last summer I warned Steve Cohen he should be worried that he lost the diehards.  I warned him again at the end of the season.

Steve even responded to the initial post  so I know he saw it.  The question is, did he heed the warning?

Well, it’s now March and the Mets are resorting to this for Opening Day.

Let’s click the link….

Plenty of good seats available.  That’s Opening Day!

I’m too lazy to click through to a Tuesday night in April but I am confident in what I would find.

It’s going to be interesting what a summer of a bad Mets team, Steve’s closed wallet, another July sell-off and Steve getting crap from the fans will bring.  If Steve doesn’t get his casino, will he entirely lose interest in this project?

The signs were there Steve.  Good luck with your dance team.

 

 

The Ticket Fees

 

INT. JERRY’S APARTMENT – DAY

Steve is sitting despondently on the couch, scrolling through ticket sales reports on his tablet. Jerry and Elaine are sipping coffee at the kitchen counter.

STEVE: (frustrated) I don’t get it. Nobody’s buying tickets for the upcoming season.

JERRY: (suggestively) Why don’t you get rid of the fees? I hate it when something’s supposed to be $10, and then suddenly it’s $15 because of fees.

ELAINE: (curious) Yeah, what are those fees for anyway?

STEVE: (vaguely) You know, expenses.

JERRY: (probing) What kind of expenses? The “mystery” fee? The “because we can” fee?

STEVE: (defensively) It’s not like that. There are…operational costs, maintenance…

ELAINE: (interrupting) Maintenance? What, are you gold-plating the seats?

STEVE: (struggling) It’s complicated. There’s a lot that goes into running a stadium.

JERRY: (pushing for details) Enlighten us. What exactly do these fees cover? The “give the owner more money” fund?

STEVE: (exasperated) It’s for operational costs, Jerry. Things like security, maintenance, utilities…

JERRY: (incredulous) And if you’re not charging these fees, who’s paying for all this? The hot dog vendors?

STEVE: (reluctantly) Well, I am. The team covers it.

JERRY: (smirking) So why don’t you just pay for them all the time then? Become the hero of the common fan.

STEVE: (sighing) Because, Jerry, it’s not that simple. The costs have to be covered somehow.

ELAINE: (teasing) What about a “Steve’s Generosity” fee? At least that way, we know it’s going to something good.

KRAMER: (excitedly) Or you could have a reverse fee! Pay people to come to the games. I’d come every day!

JERRY: (joking) Yeah, the ‘Please Like Us’ discount.

STEVE: (chuckling despite himself) You guys are a real help, you know that?

INT. CITI FIELD – STEVE’S OFFICE – DAY

Steve is reviewing papers scattered across his desk when David walks in, looking apprehensive.

STEVE: (looking up) David, how are ticket sales going?

DAVID: (hesitantly) Not well, Steve. We’ve actually seen an increase in cancellations lately.

STEVE: (surprised) Cancellations? Why? Is it the fees?

DAVID: (uncomfortably) Well, it’s… it’s actually because of the dance team.

STEVE: (bewildered) The dance team? What about them?

DAVID: (explaining) It seems that some of our more… traditional fans aren’t too thrilled about the new routines. They say it’s too modern, not what they expect from a baseball game.

STEVE: (frustrated) “Not what they expect?” Well, what do they expect?

DAVID: (carefully) They were expecting…big moves, Steve. Like signing a headline player. They expected us to sign Ohtani.

STEVE: (throwing his hands up) He didn’t call! How many times do I have to say it? I can’t sign someone who doesn’t want to be signed.

The conversation takes a turn as David suggests a bold strategy to boost ticket sales.

DAVID: (thoughtfully) What if we cut the fees? I know I hate it when something that’s supposed to cost $10 ends up costing $15.

STEVE: (surprised) That’s exactly what Jerry said. A great idea… Let’s do it!

As they discuss the new strategy, Steve notices David trying to discreetly put something away.

STEVE: (curious) Hey, what’s that in your hand?

DAVID: (reluctantly) Oh, nothing…

STEVE: (insistent) No, come on, let me see.

Reluctantly, David hands over a piece of paper to Steve. It’s the team’s cellphone bill.

STEVE: (shocked) $200? Why is our cellphone bill $200? It’s not like I was calling Japan.

DAVID: (sheepishly) Well, it’s actually $139, but then there are… fees.

The Secret Lab

INT. JERRY’S APARTMENT – DAY

Steve, visibly stressed about the Mets’ pitching situation, is explaining his dilemma to Jerry, who is lounging on the couch, enjoying every moment of Steve’s discomfort.

STEVE: (frustrated) I’ve really done it this time, Jerry. We’re short on pitching, and with Senga out, I’m desperate for a solution.

JERRY: (sarcastically) What’s the plan, Steve? Gonna throw in the dance team as relief pitchers?

STEVE: (ignoring the jab) Actually, Kramer suggested we set up one of those secret pitching labs. You know, to give our pitchers an edge.

JERRY: (bursting into laughter) A secret pitching lab? Kramer’s your baseball advisor now? Why not just hire a witch doctor and be done with it?

STEVE: (defensive) It’s not a bad idea. Other teams have them. It could really work.

JERRY: (teasingly) Oh, I can see it now. The Mets’ secret weapon: a fastball taught by Professor Kramer. What’s next, the knuckleball of mystique?

STEVE: (exasperated) You’re not helping, Jerry.

JERRY: (continuing) And let’s not forget the dance team. Maybe you can develop a secret lab for them too. ‘The Physics of Pom-Poms.’

STEVE: (trying to stay focused) This isn’t a joke. We need an edge.

JERRY: (smirking) Steve, the only edge you’re going to find in a Kramer-approved lab is the edge of reality. And let me tell you, it’s a long drop.

Just then, Kramer slides into the apartment, full of excitement about his “revolutionary” pitching lab idea.

KRAMER: (proudly) You guys are gonna love this. I’ve got contacts, Jerry. Top men.

JERRY: (quipping) Top men? What, are they hiding the Ark of the Covenant in there too?

Steve and Kramer arrive at a rundown warehouse. Inside, instead of the high-tech facility Steve was expecting, they find a makeshift lab that looks more like a high school science fair gone wrong. There are a couple of eccentric “scientists” present, one of whom is using a leaf blower to simulate wind resistance.

STEVE: (horrified) This is the pitching lab?

KRAMER: (proudly) Yep, state-of-the-art technology.

One of the “scientists” attempts to demonstrate a new pitching machine, which malfunctions spectacularly, sending balls flying everywhere but the intended target.

SCIENTIST: (unperturbed) Just a few minor adjustments needed.

STEVE: (dismayed) We can’t use this! This is a disaster waiting to happen!

KRAMER: (trying to reassure him) Steve, you’ve got to see the potential here. These guys are visionaries!

Just then, a ball launched by the faulty machine breaks through a window, causing Steve to duck for cover.

INT. JERRY’S APARTMENT – LATER THAT DAY

After the disastrous visit to the pitching lab, Steve and Kramer, retreat back to the safety of Jerry’s apartment. Steve is disheartened, Kramer is bewildered, and Elaine can’t stop laughing about the ordeal.

ELAINE: (laughing)The guy used a leaf blower to simulate a fastball? What’s next? Using a vacuum cleaner to teach curveballs?

JERRY: (joining in on the laughter) And what about that pitching machine that looked like it was held together with duct tape and prayers?

STEVE: (sighing) I was just trying to find an edge for the team.

JERRY: (chuckling) You know, Steve, you could have just signed Yamamoto and Ohtani. That would have been an edge.

STEVE: (defensive) Ohtani didn’t call, Jerry. I put the word out, but he didn’t call.

JERRY: (teasingly) What, were you expecting a bat signal? Maybe you should have sent them a carrier pigeon from Kramer’s elite bird messaging service.

ELAINE: (laughing) Yeah, Steve. Next time, try not to rely on Kramer’s “top men” or AT&T for your big signings.

KRAMER: (earnestly) You know, the pigeon could still work. It’s all about the presentation.

STEVE: (resignedly) Maybe I need to rethink my strategy. And my communication methods.

JERRY: (joking) Or maybe just start with making sure your phone works during the free agency period. That might be a good “edge” to start with.

KRAMER: (still optimistic) Well, I thought the rubber band slingshot had potential.

ELAINE: (teasing) Oh, absolutely, Kramer. Maybe you can pitch that to the dance team. ‘The Rubber Band Routine: Stretching Your Way to Success.’

STEVE: (trying to change the subject) Maybe we should just stick to traditional training methods.

JERRY: (smirking) You think? Maybe leave the secret labs to the comic books, Steve.

ELAINE: (still amused) And leave the dance routines to Broadway. At least when they leap through the air, it’s intentional.