THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, May 19, 1996 TAG: 9605150051
SECTION: REAL LIFE PAGE: K1 EDITION: FINAL
COLUMN: MY JOB
SOURCE: BY JAMES C. BLACK, STAFF WRITER
LENGTH: Long : 101 lines
TED DRAKE has a ``fun job'' - if such a thing exists.
No, it's not the real estate business he runs with his wife, Delegate Thelma Drake. Nor is it the marketing gig he does on the side. And it's definitely not the handyman routine associated with the real estate venture.
This other job entails walking 2 to 3 miles a day, getting off late in the evening and being yelled at by his customers. Drake, 41, is a beer vendor at Harbor Park.
``My wife calls this my fun job,'' Drake says, lounging in the stands before the recent Norfolk Tides-New York Mets exhibition game. ``This is for exercise and recreation.''
Not quite the recreation he got when he started his vending career 22 years ago out at old Met Park. Those days of riding his bicycle to the stadium from Old Dominion and then to Bayview afterward are long gone. So are the nights of selling more than 10 cases of beer, once reaching a high of 30.
No, life at Harbor Park is different and easier. Drake does not have to comb the stands with just one other vendor as he used to. He has as many as nine cohorts on the premises selling beer.
On the concourse, unlike during his early days at Met Park, are beer stands. At Park Avenue Brewery, behind home plate, fans can order up everything from a Corona or Heineken to a Steamship Raspberry Ale. Drake and his fellow vendors pack the old standbys - Bud and Miller Lite.
But regardless of the changes, everything's cool with Drake.
``Actually, I'm making more money than I used to, selling less beer, because we get a better commis-sion,'' he says. ``It was nothing to sell 10 cases one night. . . . I don't think I've ever broken 10 here.''
This night, Drake would fall well short of selling 10 cases. However, the number of beers and cases sold are irrelevant.
Vending, though taken seriously, is about fun for Drake. It's about seeing friends he has not seen in years or socializing with the same fans day after day and putting smiles on their faces.
His approach to work varies. Sometimes there's a need for sarcasm and jokes. Other moments call for compassion and tenderness. He generally opts for the former.
``If James (Timmons) would serve those customers, I wouldn't have to go over there and serve them for him,'' he says to laughter during a pre-game meeting.
Afterward, strapped with a vending tray full of beer and ice, Drake is ready for business.
Standing 6-foot-2 and sporting a mustache, Drake scopes his territory - from home plate, behind the visitor's dugout and down the third-base line. Immediately, less than two minutes away from the commissary, he has a customer.
Despite the quick sale, he predicts the beginning of a long evening as he surveys the crowd. It's time to break out the slogans.
``Cold beer, clean cups,'' he yells. The sales pitch is good for a few smiles but no instant purchases.
Then, a few minutes later, he finds a fan he should not stray too far away from. The customer, holding one beer, gives Drake $2.75 for another Budweiser. And after the sale, the fan says, ``Will you be back in a little while?''
Drake says ``yes'' and drops by periodically.
Through the home run derby and announcement of the lineups, he continues before stopping for the national anthem.
With a crowd smaller than expected, beer sales are slow.
Drake serves a few regulars and chats with a friend from junior high school, Cathy Piland. After a while, business is so slow that he decides to sit and watch a few pitches of the game.
``You got to watch the game sometime,'' he says.
And sometimes you got to watch for foul balls.
``I was over at Met Park and . . . I took a foul ball right in the heinie,'' he says of the painful event. ``Some guy insisted on buying the ball for 10 bucks, so I sold it to him because I didn't want to see that ball anymore.''
So on he goes, selling a beer here and there, reloading and receiving a few tips.
Late in the game, he receives his best tip - three dollars - and it's not even real. A friend slips him a green bill with Bill Clinton's face and the slogan ``The Disgruntled United States of America.''
Finally, the ending to a subpar night.
He sells three cases and five single cans - 77 beers. As for tips, he takes home $25. Not the $80 he's gotten on a terrific night but not bad.
``I imagine that sales were below average,'' he says.
After all the formalities are accomplished - turning in his beer, apron and tray - he's free to go. It's time to jump in his 1983 Ford van and head home.
And what does he do when he gets home? Drink a beer, of course. ILLUSTRATION: Color photo
L. TODD SPENCER
On summer evenings, Ted Drake takes a break from his real estate
business to sell beer at Harbor Park, where he enjoys seeing old
friends and socializing with the fans.
Photo
L. TODD SPENCER/The Virginian-Pilot
Ted Drake sells beer to fans at the recent Tidewater Tides-New York
Mets exhibition game at Harbor Park.
by CNB