Our $50,000 hockey investment has yielded a million dollars' worth of family fun and memories

I had never been a season ticket holder for any sport when the Lake Erie Monsters came to Cleveland in 2007.

But I knew I liked hockey, and we had a bunch of young kids who I thought might feel the same. So Terry and I took the plunge and bought two season tickets for the Monsters' first season.

Actually, we got involved so early that the Monsters didn't yet have a name when we wrote our first check to "Cleveland Pro Hockey Ltd" or some such legal entity. I was at then-Gund Arena when they later announced what the team would be called.

Since then they have morphed into the "Cleveland" Monsters, and we recently finished our 19th year as full season ticket holders.

That puts us in relatively rare air. Back in 2016-17, the team's 10th year of existence, they put the names of those of us who had been full season ticket holders (officially "Monsters Hockey Club members") from the very beginning on one of the dasher boards at ice level. Here's Jared and me posing with that list of names in February 2017:

While there may appear to be quite a few people there, it's still a small list when you consider the team now averages more than 11,000 fans a game and annually leads the American Hockey League in attendance.

Next season is the Monsters' 20th, and I hope they do something similar to recognize those of us who took the plunge early and never left.

More importantly, I can't say enough about what a great thing the Monsters Hockey Club has been for our family. 

In 2020, the team was kind enough to make a video about us that was shown several times on the arena "Humungotron" and shared on the Monsters' social media channels:

Of greater worth is the one-on-one time I've spent over the years with Terry and each of the kids at those games. Sometimes we watch and comment on the hockey, other times hockey is just the background to deeper conversations about life.

We've also met many wonderful fellow hockey fans who sit near us, some of whom I chronicled in this blog post.

We've cheered game-winning goals, mourned lost opportunities, and eaten more arena popcorn than anyone probably should.

Recently I tried to calculate how much money we've spent on Monsters hockey over these two decades. I don't have records of how much we've paid each year for our tickets, but I seem to remember them being as cheap as $1,700 total for the first season and as expensive as $3,000 for the 2026-27 season (which in fairness includes a couple of hundred additional dollars for the AHL All-Star Game being held next year in Cleveland...also in fairness, we have really good seats).

Figure our average ticket outlay over the years has been somewhere in the middle, say $2,300 a year. Multiply that by 20 years and you get $46,000. Then there's the food and team apparel we've bought, which is somewhere well north of $5,000 at this point.

All told, we've sunk $50K+ into this team – and it has been worth every penny.

I had no idea it would last this long for us, and now I can't foresee a time when we're not season ticket holders for our favorite local hockey team.

I've already told my 9-month-old grandson Cal how much I can't wait to take him to the arena. He smiles back at me indulgently, figuring that whatever Grandpa is saying, it must be something fun.

Oh, it is, buddy, it really is.

Go Monsters!

For a brief time before COVID hit, my family and I were Cleveland hockey celebrities...sort of

"Celebrities" is way too strong a word, but we did appear on the Rocket Mortgage Fieldhouse (now Rocket Arena) video board many times throughout the abbreviated 2019-20 and 2020-21 Cleveland Monsters hockey seasons.

We have been season ticket holders for the American Hockey League Monsters since the franchise was born in 2007. Which means we have seen lots and lots of hockey games together. In nearly 19 years as Monsters Hockey Club members, we have watched the team win one Calder Cup championship and several playoff games, and we've also seen them lose a heck of lot.

Through it all, as we point out in the video above, the real key for us has simply been the chance to be together. More specifically, the chance to be together two at a time, as we have just two seats in our account (club level, second row on the aisle, right at the red line...the absolute best seats in the house).

In the team's early years, I remember Jared and I attending postgame season ticket holder skating sessions in which the only people on the ice were team mascots Sully and the Mullet Brothers, in-game host Olivier Sedra, a few other fans, and us. And that was it.

Nowadays, the Monsters lead the AHL in attendance every year, drawing north of 10,000 fans for most games. They're a hot ticket here in Cleveland, largely because they're so affordable compared with the major league sports in town.

We were selected to make this promotional video because we were one of the "founding families" among season ticket holders, I guess. Whatever the reason, we had a blast doing it.

Chloe and Melanie weren't available for the video shoot in our living room. And as you can clearly see, poor Jack didn't much want to be part of it.

Every time it would appear on the arena "Humungotron," we would receive a stream of texts from friends and acquaintances at the games. "We just saw you on the video screen!!" "That was so cool!" "It was so much fun seeing you guys up there!"

The video was shot and edited in January/February 2020. Once March rolled around, of course, the pandemic changed everything. The 2019-20 season was cancelled, and the number of games the followed year was greatly limited as in-person events slowly returned.

Things got back to normal in 2021-22, and our video was played several more times, but by then the always creatively marketed Monsters had new content to show their fans, both in the arena and online.

Our video eventually ended up in their virtual scrap bin, which is fine. It had served its purpose.

Our relatively short stint as stars on the big screen was over. We have maintained our season tickets and our memories since then.

Now the one thing we would like is another Calder Cup championship, if it's not too much to ask.

A Room of One's Own

 

When Terry and I were first married in 1992, one of the upstairs rooms in our house was designated "the computer room," but it was in most respects really "Scott's room."

Oh, we both used it, but I was the one who "decorated" it, if you want to call it that. It had hockey and music posters on the wall. It featured stuffed Bill the Cat and Opus dolls from my favorite comic strip of the time, "Bloom County." It had a little nook in which I placed the Yamaha keyboard on which I would doodle from time to time.

As I was just 22 years old at the time, it was in some ways the college dorm room I never had.

It was the only room in the house over which I had (or wanted) any real say when it came to what we put there and how it looked.

Fast forward 33 years to our current house and this tradition of giving me one room to play with has continued. Terry uses our upstairs office all the time, but most of the stuff there is mine.

There are, for example, three bookshelves to hold my personal library, including this one devoted largely to my military history books:

And on top of that is a little shrine to our dearly departed cats Fred, George and Charlie:

The music theme continues in this little corner with the inclusion of two instruments (a keyboard and guitar) that I technically cannot play, though that never stops me from trying. Note that the room also contains my alto saxophone, which for the record I can play.

On the walls are various photos reflecting my interests, from a large autographed image of Sting to an autographed Lake Erie Monsters (our local hockey team, now called the Cleveland Monsters) layout. I also have a map of the Appalachian Trail and these two pictures of my mom and dad presumably taken on Parents Night when I played high school football:

Above those are my undergraduate and graduate school diplomas from John Carroll and West Virginia universities, respectively:

There's also a closet containing music and sound equipment and a large bin of sheet music I won't even bother showing you.

The point is that, while this room will never win any interior decorating awards, it's my room, and I love it. Terry does a wonderful job putting together the other rooms in our house, but I'm very grateful to have one to myself.

After all, I have helped us make a lot of mortgage payments over the years. It feels like I've earned a few square feet of my own.

These bobbleheads tell a story

As sports memorabilia collections go, the 24 bobbleheads (and one champagne bottle) that sit atop the cabinets in my office are exceedingly modest.

In 2015, a Canadian named Phillip Darling was certified by the Guinness Book of World Records as being the owner of nearly 2,400 bobbleheads. And the National Bobblehead Hall of Fame and Museum in Milwaukee is said to have a collection in excess of 10,000.

So the ones I've managed to accumulate aren't all that special.

Yet they are special to me, because each one has a little memory or story attached to it.

In most cases, I acquired these bobbleheads by attending a special promotional night conducted by one of our Cleveland professional sports teams.

Nearly half were given out by the Cleveland Indians/Guardians, for example. My wife Terry isn't the biggest fan of baseball, but she was there for a few of those games.

I think my son Jared probably accompanied me on most of the rest.

An additional eight have been picked up over the years at Lake Erie/Cleveland Monsters hockey games. My favorite of those is the one depicting basketball star Shaquille O'Neal in hockey gear (if you look closely at the photo, it's the third one to the left of the champagne bottle).

There were more than 18,000 people in attendance that evening, most of whom just wanted to grab one of the 10,000 Shaq bobbleheads being given out. We were admitted early as season ticket holders, so we were assured of getting our hands on one.

The Cleveland Cavaliers account for the rest of the bobbles, including the two on the far left that honor the late (and legendary) Cavs broadcaster Joe Tait. The golden microphone there is one of two pieces in the collection with no actual "bobble" component to them, but I love it just the same.

Oh, and the champagne bottle? Jared gave me that when he was working with the Cleveland Guardians. It came from the team's clubhouse celebration after they beat the Tampa Bay Rays (his future employer, as it turned out) in a 2022 playoff series. I even have the cork.

Most days when I come into the office I don't even notice the bobbleheads, as they have followed me from job to job for many years and are just part of the scenery. But when I do look to my left and see them, I always smile a little.

That's a pretty good return on the investment of time and effort I made to get each one.

Sports remain a big part of my life but don't mean as much to me as they used to...which is just fine

One way or another, I find myself watching or attending sporting events all the time.

Some are cross country meets, where I get to see my son Jack compete. Others are soccer and volleyball matches I'm announcing, or football games where the Wickliffe Swing Band performs at halftime.

And of course there are the professional sports teams here in Cleveland whose games I will occasionally listen to on the radio or watch on TV.

The key word here is "occasionally."

For various reasons, as I approach 52 years of age, sports have changed for me in two important ways.

One is that I don't "do" pro sports to the level I once did. This is not so much an intentional decision as it is a function of a busy schedule and the fact that weekends are often devoted to catching up on the stuff I missed during the work week.

I know many people who have walked away from pro sports for political reasons. I absolutely respect their decision, but I am not one of them. My lack of engagement is just a lack of time.

Case in point: I'm typing this post early on Sunday morning, September 26th. My Cleveland Browns will take on the Chicago Bears this afternoon. I am almost certain I will watch zero minutes of the game.

In fact, do you know how many quarters of Browns football I have watched through the first two weeks of the NFL season? The answer is a fraction of one quarter. It's more accurately measured by the number of individual plays I've seen.

Again, this is nothing against the Browns, the NFL, or sports in general. I just have other things that are more important right now. (Trust me, I've been rooting for the Browns for decades and continue to be an ardent fan, as I am of the Indians/Guardians, Cavs, and my beloved Cleveland Monsters.)

Which leads to the other thing that has happened to me in recent years when it comes to sports: When I do manage to watch, I don't get as emotionally invested as I once did.

As Terry will tell you, I have been known to scream at the TV and at the world in general while watching a Browns game. Not so much anymore.

For one thing, it's silly to get worked up over a sporting event, particularly if it doesn't involve your child or a close friend. I am a big believer in the power of sports fandom to be a social connector and a fun hobby, but that should be the extent of it.

Writer Terry Pluto often tells fans never to let the millionaires ruin their day, and he's absolutely right.

Again, none of this means I'm no longer interested in sports. The sports section of the two newspapers to which I subscribe is the first thing I read every morning. And heck, I announce several dozen high school and college events every year. It's not like I can get away from them.

But I think about sports differently now. I have gone from the being the guy who could earnestly write about the nobility of sports fandom (you can read that blog post from December 2011 here) to someone who is maybe a bit better equipped to put athletics – professional or otherwise – into their proper perspective.

I'm not sure whether that means I've matured or am just a boring old person. Either way, I've got a family to spend time with and chores to do, man. Ain't nobody got time for the rest.

Hockey is back, Beethoven not so much

We are, and long have been, big hockey fans in our house.

We have been season ticket holders for our local American Hockey League team, the Cleveland Monsters, ever since the team came to town in 2007. We have two seats to every game every season.

The 14th of those seasons, COVID-delayed as it has been, starts next Friday as the Monsters host the Rochester Americans.We plan to be there for most of the 14 scheduled home games this winter and spring.

(NOTE: The Monsters were originally supposed to open their season tonight in Rockford, Illinois, but their two games this weekend against the Ice Hogs were postponed for reasons related to COVID protocols.)

I am also a subscriber to The Cleveland Orchestra. That group was planning to begin in-person concerts in early March, and I had intended to be there.

Sadly, however (and perhaps not surprisingly), I received an email from the Orchestra this week announcing the cancellation of live concerts this spring. They tried hard to make it work, but considering the advanced average age of a symphony orchestra audience, this decision is likely for the best.

Instead, they will continue offering online "virtual" concerts every couple of weeks, as they have been since the fall.

The question of live event attendance nowadays is an understandably sticky one. Is it safe? What precautions are being put in place? What risk is involved, and is it worth the utter joy of moving back toward something resembling normalcy?

In the case of both the Monsters and the Orchestra, I felt comfortable that the proper steps had been taken to keep audience members like me safe. For hockey there will be limited seating, social distancing, mask wearing, plenty of hand sanitizer, etc.

I am 51 years old and healthy. The typical hockey attendee is even younger and healthier than me. It all seems relatively safe.

Still, I completely understand the rationale of those who believe otherwise and opt out of this shortened season.

I just can't wait for the day when it's not even a question anymore.

Go Monsters, and uh, go Orchestra!