I had snuck into three World Series Games, a Wimbledon Final, and “The Game of the Century” in college football. I would go on to sneak into the Super Bowl. But at Scottrade Center on this date seven years ago, everything went wrong.
My brother and I had tickets to a sold-out, Saturday night, Blues-Sabres game. Bruce, my friend at Mizzou, was from Buffalo and wanted to see his hometown team, too.
I gave him my ticket and told him to go inside and navigate to a set of exit-only doors across from Section 108. I had done the same thing a year earlier, with a different friend, before a game against Chicago.