It was a foray, you might say, into value investing, when my friend Matt Jordan and I decided to sample season tickets this year for the 76ers.
At $197 a person, we snagged an eight-game package starring a team so deep, so young, so fearless, we hoped there'd be enough on-court fireworks to make up for the fact that our almost-corner seats were at a despairingly high altitude.
"Hey," Matt preemptively consoled in pitching the far-from-center-court idea back in December, "at least we'll have something to do during the dark, cold weeknights of winter."
Matt hadn't owned season tickets since the Allen Iverson-Pat Croce sprint to the finals in 2001 and the next year. I had been an a la carte buyer in the Spectrum years. We had been crazy for hoops as kids and figured, for the right price, why not?