Who's Selling Hockey Tickets?

For me there was nothing more colourful than the interior of the old Maple Leaf Gardens.

Maple Leaf Gardens with its gold, red, blue, green and grey seats all neatly enclosed within hockey’s greatest shrine. Every seat having a matching coloured striped ticket. A ticket destined to be ripped in half upon entry through one of the Gardens ancient blue and white turnstiles. And, for at least a few hours anyway the Gardens interior colours would be hidden by yet another sold out crowd.

I was sixteen years old when I first got pinched by the cops for scalping hockey tickets outside of Maple Leaf Gardens. Back in those days money was very scarce. I had no money whatsoever let alone to buy Leaf tickets. I did however use my ingenuity and I devised a way that I could see Leaf games for free. When I say free, I mean it cost me nothing moneywise, but there was always a bit of time and effort involved.

First, I had to convince a friend who was also a Leaf fan to bankroll my little operation. He provided me with the necessary twenty dollar startup funds that I needed to get us both into the Gardens. It ended up costing him nothing since by game time he would have his twenty bucks back in his pocket.

Here is how I did it.

The two of us would head down to the Gardens on the subway. We would arrive on Carlton Street about an hour or so before the puck drop at 8 pm. Once on the street, my friend became just a silent observer from a distance. I would then begin my quest for tickets with his twenty dollars in my hand. I would perch myself atop the College Street subway entrance looking for young kids who were around my age, maybe a bit younger. There were always youngsters coming out of the subway on their way to Leaf games using one of their dad’s corporate season tickets.

The conversation went something like this:

Me: “Hey guys you want to sell me your tickets?”

Them: “No I can’t, my dad says we have to go to the game.”

Me: “You know how many quarters you can get to play pinball on Yonge Street if you sell me your tickets?”

Them: “Hmm.”

Me: “You could play pinball for hours and have some pizza too.”

Most of the kids just kept walking and stopped talking to me altogether. Eventually, a kid would succumb to my offer of pinball and pizza on the Yonge Street strip.

If they had a pair of blues I would offer them ten bucks for the pair. I always had the money in my hand to show them. A pair of blue seats cost sixteen dollars back then. I might do twelve bucks if they were lower blues right above the goal, but no higher than twelve. For the kids it was a roll of pinball quarters for their tickets.

At the same time a pair of premium gold seats cost twenty-seven dollars. If I was lucky to find a kid with gold seats, I would offer him the whole twenty bucks I had in my hand. I would almost be guaranteed to triple my money especially for a Saturday night game on those pricy ducats.

Once I had my first pair of tickets in my hand I would become a seller as well as a buyer. The twenty dollars I had in my hand was always made up of small bills, 1's, 2's and 5's. I wanted to have all my transactions completed by 7:30 pm so we could get inside for the pre-game warmups. However, sometimes I needed to hustle a bit longer out on the street and we would miss the warmups.

But not very often.

A good night would see me selling three maybe four pairs of tickets. Whenever I scored a pair of the coveted golds, I could easily sell them for a minimum of sixty bucks further down the street right in front of the Gardens. There were always people with money looking for Leaf tickets in front of the Gardens right under the historic marquee.

Another easy way for me to get tickets was to find the guy who didn’t belong, the guy who didn’t fit in with the crowd. They were at almost every game and I could spot them from a mile away. They usually stood off to the side and always looked nervous like they were about to rob a bank. I would just simply walk up to him and ask him what tickets he had for sale. It was always the same story, he had a pair that he couldn’t use and just wanted to get his money back. All he wanted was to sell his tickets, get his money and then get the hell off the street. I was always quite happy to help him out with his predicament.

I would usually buy his tickets, but for never more than the face value. With his tickets now in my hand, I did what he was afraid to do. I sold them for a profit. If I sold a pair that cost me a tenner for twenty bucks, I would use the twenty bucks to buy other tickets. Rinse and repeat two, three maybe four times.

By game time, both my friend and I were sitting inside the Gardens in seats that literally cost us nothing. He had his twenty bucks back in his pocket and I usually had a bit of cash left over for a hot dog and a Coke. I did this quite often but only for Saturday night games and my friends were always impressed. Any time I wanted to see a Saturday night Leaf game at the Gardens, I had no problem finding one of them to finance my little operation.

Although, I remember one night that everything did not go quite to plan.

On this night my friend and I were looking forward to watching that night’s game from a pair of premium corner gold seats. I had a single grey ticket left that I needed to sell so I could buy my hot dog and Coke. I gave my friend his twenty bucks back; we were ready to get off the street and into the Gardens. I still don’t know how I ended up with a single ticket, but I did. For the most part I always dealt in pairs and not in singles.

Anyways, a guy who looks like he’s had too much to drink walks up to me. He had fishing lures dangling from his Gilligan like hat and he asks me what I had for sale. After telling him I had a lower center ice grey, he asked to see where the seat was.

I showed him the ticket.

He was now holding the ticket in his hand and asked me how much.

I told him I wanted ten bucks.

I thought he was going to buy the ticket as he reached into his pocket.

He showed me his badge, he was an undercover cop.

I was busted.

I broke the cardinal rule of ticket scalping since I handed him the ticket before I had his cash in my hand. He now had the evidence as I had willingly handed him the ticket I was asking double the face value for. I was put in the back of a cruiser while my friend watched from the street. I had no idea what was going to happen to me and I thought for sure we would not be going to the game that night. I still had our pair of golds in my pocket.

Ticket scalping or the legal definition, ticket speculation is illegal. Once caught a first time offender in Toronto is usually issued a Summons to Appear in Court and will most likely have to pay a fine. I had no ID or anything to confirm my identity or my address.

After almost fifteen minutes he let me go.

My friend and I went to the game and we sat in our gold seats. The grey ticket I was trying to sell was confiscated by the officer to be used as evidence, he told me. Yet, I never heard anything more from that night. I never went to court and was never fined or punished.

Hmm.

It would not surprise me if the cop kept my grey ticket and used it himself that night.

Who knows?

Toronto Maple Leaf hockey games at the Gardens were sold out for every game. There were no tickets at the box office located in the Gardens lobby, especially on Saturday nights. If you didn’t have tickets and you wanted to go to the game your only option was to buy your tickets on the street.

Selling tickets on the street above face value was illegal, but you could legally buy tickets on the street above face value. As time went on I became quite good at the art of scalping hockey tickets. I would solicit or sell tickets by loudly barking the same two questions.

“Who’s got a pair?”

“Who’s selling hockey tickets?”

By asking people on the street if they were selling tickets, I would appear to be a buyer. With all the undercover cops always on the prowl looking to pinch scalpers, I could not appear as a seller. If someone actually did have tickets to sell, I would offer to buy their tickets, but for no more than face value.

By asking if they were selling tickets I could also easily establish if they were buyers.

“No, I need a pair” would always be their response if they too were also looking for tickets. I was always happy to offer them what seats I had available. No matter what tickets I had, I could easily sell Saturday night games at double the price printed on the ticket.

And, sometimes even more.

The Gardens capacity for hockey was just over 16,300, it was always a case of supply and demand. Demand was always high and supply was always low. I was never out to make the wads of cash like many of the familiar lifetime scalpers. They spent most days outside the Gardens selling Leaf or concert tickets and always had stacks of tickets for every game and concert. For most of them scalping hockey tickets was how they made their living. I never saw any of them inside the Gardens, but they were always outside before every game.

For me my mission was simple. I just wanted to get me and a friend in to watch the Leafs for free and if I was lucky make a few extra bucks. Over the years I attended hundreds of Leaf games and dozens of concerts at Maple Leaf Gardens. Once I got older and I began working I was able to buy my own tickets. Eventually, I shared season tickets with a couple friends for fifteen seasons before Maple Leaf Gardens closed in February 1999.

February 13th, 1999 would be the final time a Leaf game would be played at the Gardens. It would also be my second time getting pinched for scalping Leaf tickets by an undercover cop on Carlton Street. Although on that Saturday night the stakes were much higher, but my mission was still the same. I was just simply trying to get into the Gardens for free one last time.

It wasn’t meant to be.

I was at the final game and it cost me big time. Attending the final Leafs game at the Gardens cost me well over two thousand bucks. Looking back it was worth every penny.

Why?

Because I made damn sure that I was the last fan to exit the interior of hockey’s greatest shrine on that final game night. With a tear in my eye, my last visual snapshot of those colourful empty seats will be forever etched in my mind.

Never to be forgotten.