I'm purising the the NY Times today, catching up on the latest planes that fell from our wintery skies when I happened upon a piece about the Yankees hiring a top Real Estate Brokerage to help sell a few thousand remaining luxury boxes and suites.

Always looking for a good deal, I read on, and quickly discovered that I am not the targeted customer in this seat-selling scheme.

Prudential's Douglas Elliman expects to accelerate the sales of seats that range in cost from $350 to $2,500 a game. Of the challenge, associate Neil Sroka says, “There’s been a lot of press about how expensive the premium seats are.”

Really? Yah think?

Then Sroka said something that left me dumbfounded, flabbergasted, flummoxed, and, well, in these tough economic times, alittle ticked. He said buyers can still get a 20-game package for $7,000 a seat. “It’s obtainable,” he said. “In this economic time, people are still looking for things to take their children or grandchildren to.”

Yeah, Neil. I'd think nothing of dropping $35,000 to take my family to 20 Yankees games. Of course that doesn't include parking, food, merchandise, and a counselor to help me overcome the feelings that I've been raped!

Obviously, Yankee Stadium has become a destination for the rich and famous. Working stiffs no longer need not apply. That's a shame. Many of my fondest memories took place at Yankee Stadium ... Getting propositioned in the men's room at 13; my first watered-down beer at 14; and of course my personal favorite, having Ken Phelps rear-end me following a game. Good times. Good times.

No thanks, Neil. I'll stay at home in VA and trek up to Baltimore where I don't need to sell a kidney or pimp my wife to watch my favorite team.