Bass: What’s the worst seat you ever had for a sporting event?

CHICAGO – The “unrestricted view” tickets for Reds-Cubs were listed with this explanation: “You’ll have a clear view of the show.” In fairness, they did not specify which show or how long the view would be clear. Cub-veat emptor.

Turns out our Row 1 seats down the third-base line were just above a walkway that bisected the upper deck. With no pillars or overhang, the view of home plate was indeed “unrestricted” ... for a few seconds. Enter the foot traffic.First, two fans in Reds jerseys stopped to pose for their Cubs fan-friend with a phone camera. It was right in our eyelines.

“Excuse me,” I asked politely. “Could you please move? We can’t see.”

They had no idea. They quickly moved on. Most people are nice if you are nice.

Then a few others paused in the same area. Again, I was polite. This time, one guy in the group glared at me. No way I was going to escalate this. Slowly, finally, they moved on.

Welcome to The Show. Our show, at least. The parade was not going to stop. I was getting frustrated.

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“You’re going to be busy trying to get every person to move,” my wife said. “It’s not going to work.”

She was right. I had to deal with it.

And not for the first time.

* * * * *

We’ve all been there, right?

Who doesn’t have a bad-seat story?

It seems so cruel. You (over)plan for this day. You (over)pay for tickets. You so look forward to being here, at a sporting event, to SEE your team. If you can’t spring for a premium seat or box, if you don’t know all the idiosyncrasies, something can get in the way.

The vendors might stop in the aisles and block you from the action. The person in front of you might be 7 feet tall and wearing a Panama hat. The person next to you might spill food or a beverage on you. The person behind you might be obnoxious and inebriated – just like the one a couple of years ago who muttered something incomprehensible about my replica-jersey T-shirt.

“He wanted you to take off your shirt so he could wear it and run on the field,” his friend/interpreter explained.

“Um ... sorry, no thank you,” I replied.

Twenty-five years ago, early in my sports editor days at the old Post, Reds media-relations director Rob Butcher agreed to detail for us his continuing search for the worst seat in each stadium he visited. When word spread of Rob’s quest, he stopped, worried about offending other clubs, so beat writer Jeff Horrigan took over and brought it home. Jeff found a winner (loser?) at then-Cinergy Field.

Section 334, Row 26, Seat 101. It was high above the outfield. You had to look down, way down, at a 45-degree angle, to see ...

“Your only view of the field is deep right and center field, as well as a glimpse of the left field warning track,” Jeff wrote. “If you’re a fan of anyone other than Reggie Sanders or Chris Stynes, you’re out of luck. The Sony JumboTRON obstructs nearly the entire view of the field, and the constant drone of the six cooling fans attached to the back of the video-replay system will drive you mad.”

When I was at the St. Paul Pioneer Press, colleague Amy Nelson agreed to write a story about sitting in arguably one of the two worst seats at the new Target Field: Section S, Row 13, Seat 1, down the third-base line.

“I had to look through two panes of glass and over a handrail for a glimpse at home plate,” she wrote. “And apparently it used to be worse. Photos show the mural of Harmon Killebrew on the wall separating our section from the Legends Club seats originally extended the width of the divider. Glass partitions were substituted and helped the view.”

Amy concluded that the seat behind her was worse, but it was unoccupied, so she won (lost?) on the night.

“Visitors who had heard about my infamous seat and the one behind me in Row 14 stopped to see for themselves,” Amy wrote.

Both apparently were popular spots for photos.

Sometimes it is so bad, it is good.

* * * * *

When the walkway was clear, I took a quick photo and texted it to my niece’s husband, who is a big sports fan.

“Amazing view!” Jose replied.

I had to smile. Then I sent him a half-minute video showing how quickly the view changed.

“Ha,” Jose replied, “as long as you’re not behind a steel beam.”

I had to laugh. My father rarely took us kids to games, and the view was invariably blocked by a pillar. When I was a little older, my friends and I gravitated toward the bleachers, which were immune from pillars and overhangs, were more energized – and were cheaper.

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When my buddies and I opted for grandstand seats, we would try to move closer to the field during the game, when the ushers weren’t looking. During Reds-Cubs, my wife and I considered the reverse for a better view.

The group with a nonstop talker sitting right behind us left in midgame. While we waited to see if they would return, other squatters swooped in. I could get upset, or I could applaud their speed. The game was SRO, so maybe this was their first chance to sit. At least that’s the story I choose to tell myself.

I had let go of my frustration. This felt better.

* * * * *

I have sat in some wonderfully awful seats over the years.

In a top section or row. Behind the back or corner of an end zone. On a steel or wooden bench. Behind a foul pole or television camera. Looking back, I never regretted it.

I attended the 2012 Ryder Cup and saw so little actual golf, while peering between and around the masses, that I finally plopped down before a massive TV on the grounds, and I wasn’t alone. I strategized that it was better to scope out certain golfers or holes, then return to that spot.

Honestly, if I always want a guaranteed view without distractions, I can stay home. I don’t. I never know for sure what awaits at my seat, but I do try to help the odds. For instance, am I overdressed or underdressed for the conditions? Are my seats protected from the elements?

On July 23, 1976, they were not. I attended the last College Football All-Star Game against the Super Bowl champions at Soldier Field. A hot and humid day turned wet and wild, as rain and fans stormed the field and the game ended in the third quarter. Winds hit about 65 mph, and I tried to steady myself to stay upright. My knee twisted. To this day, it can act up. I still value the memory of that day, because maybe I am a bit twisted.

Or maybe I just cherish every game I attend.

* * * * *

Back to Reds and Cubs, the two teams baseball teams I care about most. I was spending the day at Wrigley Field with my amazing wife, a day after our 16th anniversary. It was a screensaver of a Sunday afternoon, sunny, low 70s, slight wind.

And I was complaining?

Why not give myself a little credit for my planning, too? I knew the overhang would shade our seats, so I carried a light jacket, wore convertible pants and put a long-sleeve T-shirt under my jersey. Perfect. And appropriate. It was a No. 26 Billy Williams jersey, and the Cubs had botched his bobblehead the previous night, giving him/it No. 1.

I get that

And if I missed any swing or miss, hit or out, I could quickly check a phone app or the scoreboard. It was more productive than getting upset at the people below me who had no idea they were blocking my view, who had a right to use the walkway, to pause for a vendor or companion.

An usher regularly tried to move along the lollygaggers, but she had a lot of area to cover, and there was only so much she could do. I could have complained. Instead, I called her over and thanked her. She appreciated that.

Later, after moving along several others, she walked over to me with a question that made us both laugh.

“I think they like standing in front of you,” she said. “What line of cologne are you wearing?”

I should call it “Unrestricted View.”

This article originally appeared on Cincinnati Enquirer: Mike Bass opinion column