Warriors... Come Out to Play-ay!
Remember when we told you we were going to see the Warriors on opening night? Well we did, and they lost, which wasn't that surprising, since, you know, it was the Warriors. Our seats were pretty good, but man were they spendy! And did we mention that they lost?
The thing we'll always remember about that night, though, isn't the mediocre basketball we watched, or the awful remodeling job they did on that building a few years ago, or how the place was half-empty even though it was opening night and the team had just spent $130 million on two players two days before, but how the security guards were complete a-holes and weren't going to let us in because we had a bag.
We took BART to Oakland and got to the arena about 10 minutes before game time. Upon seeing that we were wearing a shoulder bag -- a medium-sized messenger bag -- the main security guy at the east gate immediately told us to go outside and that we couldn't bring our bag in. We asked why not and he said that it was too big. We asked how big it could be and he said go outside and read the sign. We went outside and read the signs but didn't see anything about how big a bag could be. After about the third time we asked him, the security guard came outside and pointed to a sign about twenty feet up the wall that said, in two inch letters, along with about twenty other things, "No large bags or backpacks." We asked the security guard, whose name was Buzz G, how large a large bag was and who determined that. He said ours was large and that he determined it. We asked to speak to a supervisor or manager and he said that he himself was in charge. (We doubted that the person in charge of security for the whole facility would be wearing the same company-issued blazer and printed tie as everyone else, but we didn't point that out.) He said there was nowhere to check our bag and that if we didn't like it we could go down to the ticket windows and they'd give us back our sixty-three (!) bucks. As you can imagine, this went on for a little while and eventually he told us to go to a different gate to get in.
So we went to the south gate. On the way, we removed the contents of our bag -- a newspaper, a sketch book, some legal documents, a transistor radio and some loose papers -- and walked in with the empty bag folded up in one hand and its contents in another. The first guard inside the door noticed we were holding a bag and glanced at his superior, whose name was Max, who looked at our bag and said it was okay because it was a computer bag and that we could go in. All was well. Then Max looked at us again and said, "Oh no, I can't let you in, you're the one they called about. You have to leave." We asked why he wasn't going to let us in even though he had just said our bag wasn't too big and he said it was because the other guy had told him to keep us out. So they kicked us out again. We asked to speak to his superior and he too said he himself was in charge. We asked why, if he was in charge, the other guy was telling him that we couldn't come in. He said he was in charge, not the other guy, and we asked to speak to his superior again. You can imagine how this all went.
So we called our friend Barry inside and told him things weren't looking so hot. We walked around to the north entrance, where Barry was waiting for us, and again approached the gate with the empty bag in one hand and its contents in the other. The security guard there was a little confused by the whole thing -- she asked why we had a bag, as though she'd never met anyone who carries stuff around with them before -- but Barry was beckoning amiably and there was no superior security guard there to kick us out into the cold again, so she let us in.
Does it seem to you that the Warriors should be welcoming their ticket-holding fans on opening night, not turning them away, especially when there are six or eight thousand empty seats in the place? Does it seem like they should have some sort of specified allowable bag dimensions posted at the entrances, and, if someone's bag is too big and they can't just go to the parking lot and put it in their car because they took BART there, that there should be some sort of bag check facility (like there is at Wrigley Field)? And does it seem that there's a better way to deal with some one who actually has a bag than to get into a loud argument outside the main gate right at tip-off while everyone else is trying to get inside? Would it be so hard to take a quick look at the contents of the bag and, upon confirming that it contains neither alcoholic beverages nor improvised explosive devices, let its bearer into the building and ask them not to bring a bag the next time they come to enjoy a very expensive professional basketball game? It seemed that way to us.
We called the Warriors the next day and talked to the head of security, George Tarnow (And here we were, silly us, thinking it was Buzz or Max!), and he agreed that the whole thing had been handled inappropriately. We told George how the last time we'd gone to a Warriors game, with our brother and his two daughters, aged six and seven, a security guard had damned near gotten into a fist fight with our brother after the game, right in front of his daughters, because he'd tried to say hello to the DJ who was playing that night, an acquaintance of his. We talked with George for a little bit and we got a few things off our chest. George seemed like an okay guy; we hope he checked in with Buzz and Max about the whole thing.
So anyways, the Warriors host the Utah Jazz in Oakland tonight. There'll be plenty of tickets available, so you can go if you want, but don't bring a bag, punk.