Just when you think you’ve heard it all, someone reports that the price of the best seat at the Super Bowl — row one on the 50-yard line of Indianapolis’ Lucas Oil Stadium — is a cool $17,048.

That’s about what it would cost you to buy a 50-inch television set for every room in your house, including the bathrooms, where you could watch this struggle between the Giants and Patriots in great comfort.

For a lower-level seat at the 40-yard line, you get a break. The resale price, according to news reports, is $16,480, a trifling amount when you consider the value of telling your grandkids or whomever that you were in this Midwest capital to see a historic rematch between two East Coast teams. That, of course, is if you are from New England or New York and really care.

That, plus other resale costs for this annual example of excess, qualifies it for the profligacy title in the Guinness World Records. Anyone able to pay that much unquestionably is vulnerable for an income tax hike in Barack Obama’s scheme to make the rich pay up.

Actually, the face value of a ticket ranges from $800 to $1,200. But don’t show up in Indianapolis thinking you can buy one for that price, if you could get one at all.

The average price for the ticket sold on site is $4,223, enough to buy only about three good TV sets with some change left over for snacks, confetti and the shirt of your favorite player for a home-staged celebration. You could even afford to throw a beer through one of the sets when the other team scores.

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Another disparaging factor in the price is that your food and drinks for all those intermissions and half times and time outs will cost somewhat less than it does to reach the moon.

As a native Hoosier, I don’t remember anything in “Naptown” quite worth that much. But then I came from the next county down, at a time when movie tickets cost 25 cents and you grew your own popcorn. I would like to think that few who reside in the region are crazy enough to pay those prices, especially since the Colts aren’t there and despite the fact that one of the quarterbacks is named Manning. And, oh yeah, this isn’t the 500-mile auto race.

This exhibition of indulgence — the national ticket for Super Bowl Sunday is $11 billion — seems to disprove statistics showing that while the country is back in a growth pattern, Americans individually still have considerable pocketbook aches from the binge spending we have endured over the last two presidential administrations.

Those planning to attend, however, either haven’t been touched by the downturn or are willing to hock something just to experience firsthand such a momentous event where they can ogle millionaire players in person and rub up against millionaire fans.

Some of these may be parents whose children have faced a decline in spending on such trivialities as public education. On the other hand, those who could pay for multiple tickets (normally one would be accompanied by a wife, girlfriend or even a child or two) to this bash probably aren’t terribly concerned about public schools.

Wealthy New Yorkers are willing to pay close to $40,000 a year to private academies for K through 12. That doesn’t count outlays for tutors to make certain junior has grades good enough to get into one of those elite ivy-covered money pits.

But I digress. The annual spectacular rivals anything the Romans staged and attracts tens of millions of viewers worldwide on sets ranging from 70-inch plasma HD to grainy 19-inch analog.

I, for one, will clutch my wallet tightly, prop up my feet, open a diet drink and watch the event on a mid-sized set, napping in between the wonderful commercials and thankful that I am not “Back Home Again in Indiana” for this. Oh, I’ll probably do some ogling on my own — of Madonna.

Email Dan K. Thomasson, former editor of the Scripps Howard News Service, at thomassondan@aol.com.


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