Scalper Denny loved it when the White Sox were in Cleveland. His $30 tickets went for $40, the $50 for $90, and the baseliners went for two bills. Cleveland fans would pay handsomely for a decent blood rivalry – the Browns moving to Baltimore, the Mistake by the Lake, paying good money to hear “Cleveland Rocks” for the rest of their lives. But Denny couldn’t move one of his last four tickets: the other three he soaked to some hicks for about 250% of their face value. “It’s our first big-league game!” Goober Sr. had said, to which Denny added a one before the ticket price, his turnip truck discount. Denny always went to the games he didn’t sell out, so he ended up sitting next to Goober Jr. and Mrs. Goober. Denny could not resist talking up how little he sold the tickets for, how he’d just do without food or drink, but oh wasn’t it worth it to help out the Goober family see their first ball game? By the fourth inning, Denny had a hot dog, two beers, one popcorn, all on the Goober family credit card. They even bought him a cap, which Denny usually never wore because he hadn’t paid for his plugs just to cover them up. In the eighth, as a ChiSox loss was gaining ground, Denny lit a nice fat cigar, put his feet up on the empty seat in front of him, and laced his hands behind his head. Life was good. A minute later, he realized he had lit his new hat on fire. Goober Jr. poured his $4 soda on Denny’s face. Mrs. Goober pushed him to the disgusting concrete, and tried to roll him. Goober Sr. pulled Denny’s hat off. With it came his hair. And a good portion of scalp.
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