MLL ATTENDANCE SUGGESTION(S) - By: Dan Freshman
Few things make me sad in life: wounded puppies, sad little children, obese little children, attractive girls with a terrible laugh—but most of all, empty seats.
Really, no one liked it when daddy didn’t show up to his first little league game.
Neither does a lacrosse team like it when the entire town doesn’t show up to its home game.
Every time.
I thank the MLL for delivering me a live streaming feed of the empty bleachers in eight of the 10 franchises for of the all several hundred games this season. Nothing is more majestic than the rusted seats of a third-rate 5,000-person capacity stadium both unfilled and unkempt. And if front office personnel tell you the cameras are on the same side as the filled seats, don’t believe the lie. Empty seats don’t lie.
And neither do numbers. The Outlaws lead in attendance this year with 9,252 fans per game, placing them on par with Ukrainian Premier League Football and Speedway Ekstraliga, known to us simpletons as Polish Motorcycle Speedway. The Cannons trail closely in second with 8,685 fans per game, putting them on par with Chinese Second Tier Professional Football and English Twenty20 Cup Cricket.
The next best team, the Riptide, averages 4,283 fans per game—less than half of a Cannons or Outlaws game. Japanese Rugby averages 100 more fans per game.
In fact, take an average Pride, Dragons and Machine game. Combine their average attendances; they still fall nearly 2,000 fans short of a single Outlaws game.
Overall, MLL attendance has dipped sharply this season. The Pride average 700 fewer fans this season and now house under 2,000 lost souls per game. The Lizards were third in attendance last summer yet have suffered a 1,100 fan loss per game; they’re now seventh in the league. Even the Outlaws, up amongst Speedway Ekstraliga greats such as 2006 league champion Atlas Wrocław (don’t adjust your monitors: that “l” is supposed to be a squiggly line), averaged 1,200 more fans last season.
Again, I’m new to this whole “growing professional sporting league with integrity” thing. Isn’t a professional league supposed to grow in attendance every season? Don’t attendance figures go up as a league allegedly gets more popular? Don’t hotter cheerleaders result in more proverbial “asses in the seats?” Don’t some people pay just to see similar women flaunting their “speed, size and athleticism,” along with other assets, for even a higher cost?
I do concede, however, that there exist hundreds…no, dozens…no, a few confounding factors for the league’s drop in attendance. Gas prices are higher. Attendance numbers will surely rise toward the end of the season, especially considering the July 4th weekend, where the Outlaws broke the single-game attendance record last season. Small children fear for their lives whenever Paul Rabil misses the net. MLL attendance figures, on the whole, are hardly down compared to last season, but that’s because this year’s statistics omit the Barrage’s horrid attendance figures, which were good for ninth-place last summer.
And of course, there exist geographical and social factors when considering other sports. But why not attend an MLL game?
There’s clear advantages. For one, Pat Heim looks a lot dreamier in real life. So does McDreamy. Everything looks better when it’s not on a pixilated 3 by 5 inch screen that gives my computer digital diarrhea. For parents, MLL games are a (relatively) cheap way to bribe off the prototypical family with wife, husband and 2.5 children, when tickets cost at the most $20 per person—and if that’s too much, then you’ll never go to any professional sporting game, anyway. But best of all, you don’t get to hear Quint. Unless you press the “mute” button. And then you don’t get to hear Brian Dougherty serenade the locals with his own “barrage” of swears, slurps, grunts and sounds of poor digestion.
These reasons all exist beside the fact that each game is a holy convocation of All-Americans, world-class athletes and unspoiled stars in their respective primes, which was all impossible to watch even a decade ago for lacrosse. But you already know that as you choose to watch three-minute highlight videos on this Web site, assembled by unpaid interns and starving college students, rather than attend a single game this summer.
Nevertheless, I come here with solutions, not disparagements. Well, solutions and disparagements. The league needs to spice up its format to bring more fans to the stadiums, to haul in the local denizens so that they never leave again. No, this doesn’t involve new rules or a single change to the actual games. Instead, this makeover begins with this summer’s All-Star Game.
Denver’s a fantastic venue. Local fans will appreciate the festivities of a real, authentic all-star game. But we need to bring the fans watching at home a reason to come in full force when games resume the following week. What can’t do better to rouse fan appreciation is a revamped skills competition.
Currently, the MLL has a fastest shot competition, an accuracy competition and a freestyle competition. For my ADD generation, the fastest shot competition does the trick. I’m easily amused by fast things, cool sounds and big numbers. When you combine them together, it’s flippin’ schweeeeet. The freestyle competition would be interesting if there was more than one player who had a shot at winning. The accuracy competition makes me cringe as the world’s best feeders can’t hit any of the targets—every single year.
Get rid of it all. Start fresh. Show the fans what they really want to see. Like some sort of professional eating contest between the MLL’s burliest bros. Tom Zummo, Brian Dougherty, Mini-Brian Dougherty (Barrage backup Kevin Keenan), Rob Scherr, Conor Ford, Sal Locasio, you’re in. Hotdog eating, pie-eating, beer drinking—whatever it takes, it needs to be done. Hey, Warrior can even advertise it as the Warrior Lacrosse “Eat My Pie” competition. The winner can get five minutes alone with the MLL office mini-fridge of Gatorades.
Afterwards, each contestant can do one of those “Wanna be a Warrior” relay races where they, with the help of cheerleaders, run across the field, fitting themselves in MLL cleats, shorts, jerseys and finally a stick, ending with a shot on cage. The person that doesn’t vomit along the trip and can fit into each article of clothing is deemed the winner and gets to perform in the cheerleaders’ next dance routine.
As a default, there must be a token competition between backup goalies and face-off men, the token crazy uncles and screwed-up sisters of the league. Something showcasing their blistering athleticism and versatility is required. Shuttle runs, an obstacle course, pin the tail on the donkey, an actual game of lacrosse—something to make the YouTube highlights. Winner gets his teammates to get him the water next game.
Next, there needs to be a trivia show. Quizmaster Eric Rhew—the MLL’s one and only statistician—will be the host. Quint will serve as the Vanna White-style eye candy in a satin prom dress, turning letters and blurting out his signature catchphrase, “LASER!” Ivy League graduates are barred from participating. Winner gets to figure out how to sucker fans into attending a Dragons game.
Finally, as longtime MLL sponsor Bud Light has now become a sponsor of the UFC, we need a cage fight. Toss in Nicky Polanco and Shawn Nadelen’s neck against three of the dirtiest Canadians in the league. Eye gouging, fish hooking and dirty box crosschecks are allowed. Winner doesn’t get to kick my ass.
Really, please. Don’t. But do come to a game.
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