Bucket List: Spurs Courtside Seats

When somebody hears "NBA Courtside Seats", they immediately think of two things; celebrities and rich people. Sitting at mid-court, directly on the floor itself isn't something that the layman ever really gets to experience. That's why despite really wanting to, I didn't share this on social media until I had a chance to write about it to fully describe what really happened and how I stumbled upon this opportunity. I figured this might be one of those things that I'd always want to do, but never get the chance.

I grew up watching the Spurs religiously. My dad was a huge fan, and one of my best memories as a kid were the occasional evenings he would come home from work with tickets for that's night's game. That was back when they were still playing at the Alamodome. I remember being a huge David Robinson, Sean Elliott and Vinny Del Negro fan. As soon as I was able to spring for season tickets, I did, and I've consistently had them since 2011. (The sole exception being the 2013 playoffs through the 2014 regular season, though I was lucky enough to be able to get them again for the 2014 playoffs.)

If I'm completely honest, I can't say I've been 100% invested as of late though. With all of the iconic Spurs slowly retiring, the team's shift to a iso-heavy offense and their lackluster performance, one of the few things keeping me watching is to enjoy what could be the last games of Manu Ginobili. Content to watch on TV, I didn't renew my season tickets for next year, meaning that I would have to forgo my seats for this years playoffs as well.

This meant that if I wanted to go to a game, I was now at the mercy of the second hand market. Down 0-2 to the Golden State Warriors, and potentially one of the last games to see Manu in person, I checked Stubhub around noon to see what the going prices are for seats to that nights game. Immediately I was struck by what was listed as the Best Value ticket.

A single, center-court, courtside ticket for $1,250. My mind wandered at how awesome it would be to watch the game from that seat. I took a screenshot of the listing to send to some friends. Ultimately that was still too-high a price though. $1,250 for a 3-4 hour experience? There's no way to reasonably justify that, even if tickets like that START at about $3,000.

But even at that price, I kept trying to rationalize it in my head.

"It could be one of Manu's last games."

"What if it turns out to be a great game, and I miss it?"

"When would a single-ticket, in the playoffs, at that place and price be available again?"

Ultimately I balked. I checked back a few hours later and that same ticket was still available, though this time for $1,000. I ran through that entire exercise in my head again, ultimately reaching the same conclusion. That price for a short experience? Tempting, but no.

I got home that work that evening about 5:15, and with that single seat still on my mind I again checked Stubhub.

Still available. $795. It was almost as if that seat was designated for me. At this point I texted another of my friends.

"Is it weird to go to a game alone if I ball out and get nice tickets???

"Not at all. I bet it would be nice. Relaxing. Therapeutic."

At this point I was still on the fence, that's still a lot of money to drop on a game, but it was much more feasible than the original $1,250 price, and far far more feasible than $3,000.

I checked again one last time. $500.

At this point I couldn't click 'Go to checkout' fast enough. I ran to get my card, and then rushed to enter in all of my information. Even when I had the confirmation e-mail, I was still in disbelief. I couldn't believe I had spent $500 on a single ticket, because admittedly, that's still a lot. At the same time, I couldn't believe that I had bought a courtside, playoff game, center court ticket for $500. Something had to be up. It had to be fake. Even after the tickets were e-mailed a few minutes later, I wouldn't believe it until I was in the stadium and in my seat.

At this point I called numerous people. I called a couple of friends, even asking simple things like "What do I wear??" I called my mom and my dad. I gave my brother, who's also a huge Manu fan, a call to tell him. I had not been this excited for something in a very long time. Within minutes, I had showered, and was out the door. With an 8:30pm start time, I didn't have much time to waste and I wanted to get there as early as possible to experience everything I could.

On the drive over there were a lot of scenarios playing through my head.

"What am I going to do if the tickets are fake?"

"Knowing my luck, somethings going to happen on the way to the game..."

But ultimately I got to the game without issue, I walked up to the designated special entrance on the side of the stadium for charter level seat members, and was able to enter in the stadium much earlier than is usually opened to the public.

Checking out my seat had to be the first thing I did to make sure this was all real. Walking the hallways down in the 'Saddle's & Spurs' it felt like Spurs nirvana. The walls are decorated with artwork commemorating pivotal moments of franchise history, along with team photos of the championship teams, each with unique and color added to them to give them a vibrant feel. After passing through 4 different points where an usher politely checked my ticket, I finally made it to my seat. Here an usher explained that my tickets got me into an exclusive lounge with an inclusive dinner buffet, and drinks.

And sure, I wanted to check out the "Dahill Courtside Club", but I really just wanted to take a moment and take in the spectacle of it all. I've been to probably over a hundred games, but I've rarely gotten to be in the area for the actual pre-game shootaround. Sure, the players run out of the tunnel right before the game starts for "warm-ups," but the casual shootaround that takes place right before has a different feel. It's odd sitting at a chair, without any boundary to the court and just watching these guys shoot around, talk, joke, and even check their phones like normal people.

After a bit of watching, it was time to check out the Courtside Club to get something to eat. I had rushed out the door in excitement without getting dinner so at this point i was pretty hungry. At the entrance, I had my ticket scanned one more time, I was given a shiny green wristband that grants me subsequent access without hassle, and was again explained at the door that the food is a buffet, and drinks (non-cocktail) at the bar were complimentary. The buffet had an assortment of charcuterie meats, salad, an assortment of specialty tacos (the playoff theme was dueling tacos) and roast beef. It was way more delicious than stadium food really deserved to be. The biggest oddity of this lounge though? A large glass floor to ceiling wall that stands between this lounge, and the hallway just outside the Spurs' locker room. I actually didn't know that's actually what it was until I looked up from eating and saw Manu Ginobili walk by to go into the locker room. I ended up spending a bit of time after eating trying to catch the players walking back out onto the court. Some were more jaded about it than others; Tony and LaMarcus walked by without facing the direction of the glass pane. Danny Green jokingly made it look like he was looking through a reflection to fix his hair (though maybe it actually is reflective on the other side). Pau Gasol sprinted by quickly, and Manu sprinted by, but gave the fans a wave on his way back out onto the court.

There's an odd difference to witnessing all of the before tipoff events from the court than from the upper deck. During the anthem, I couldn't help but be distracted by the fact that I wasn't watching it from the jumbotron screen, and how hard it was to actually find the person singing the anthem. From any other angle, a spotlight and zoomed in video tells you exactly where to look. On the floor, all you see is bright lights shining down on you so it's easy to get lost in it all. During the player introductions, because you're watching from a lower vantage point, you just see a crowd of players high-fiving each other, but it's hard to distinguish what's actually going on. I found myself oddly distracted by the guy waving the giant Spurs banner, thinking about how much concentration it must take to try and keep waving the flag without messing up, and how tired I would be after the entire ordeal.

Eventually the court clears out, leaving only 13 people standing. All of the lights, bells, whistles and distractions fade and the game starts.

It's hard to sum up what it's like watching a game this close. I've heard it described as watching a pickup game, where you have next but you're not going to get to play. I don't really think that statement does it justice.

I would say it's like watching a pickup game between otherworldly giants, who have super speed, strength and agility. You aren't going to get to play, nor do you even want to play because of how outmatched you are. Even the smallest person on the court is still way bigger, and immeasurably quicker and stronger than you.

Mike Leach, and I'm paraphrasing here because I can't find the real quote, once described one of his favorite things to watch on the football field was the lineman between each team battle each other, because of the hits and overall violence would occur between large people. That's how I would describe watching the game up close. If watching from the upper balcony makes a game look like a track meet, then watching the game up close makes everything on the court is a battle. Players running off screens to get free for a pass, battling one another in the post, diving for loose balls, cutting in the lane; everything that looks slow on TV is much much quicker and more physical up close.

Sitting this close, the game is very easy to follow and goes by quickly. The only point of distraction is the "blink and you miss it" speed of the game itself. It's anecdotal, but I would put each play this way. On TV, it seems like a 24 second shot clock is plenty of time. A long possession is one where you start seeing the shot clock count appear on TV, at which point it feels like an eternity that one of the teams has had the ball without taking a shot. I found myself surprised almost each time the clock started to run out and somebody had to put up a quick shot to beat the clock.

At the end of the day, the Spurs lost, which to be honest was the expected outcome. Manu didn't play well and the last 4 minutes of the game devolved into garbage time with both benches battling it out. Overall, I'm still really glad I jumped at the opportunity to sit this close. What really made the experience was way more than just the game itself, but from the moment you arrive, the level of service you receive is unparalleled.

Upon quick glance, the current going price for a courtside seat in Oakland? $13,469.

Ouch.