DEFINITELY ONE OF THOSE NIGHTS | FEELING A ROCKY MOUNTAIN HIGH

The Long Run to the Eagles After Seeing Our Daughter Coach

Vegas trip loaded with victories … and a few losses

Photo of my wife Chris and me at the Eagles concert. (Photo property of author)

One of these crazy old nights We’re gonna find out, Pretty mama What turns on your lights The full moon is calling The fever is high And the wicked wind whispers And moans

It was 7:13 p.m. on the Vegas strip. Bright lights shining everywhere. Sitting at a red light. A block away from our parking structure at Treasure Island. One last desperate desperado attempt, refreshing my iPhone— hoping the full moon was calling — to see if any affordable (under $200) Eagles tickets were available. My last check was forty minutes ago — $410.

Lo and behold, a gift from the classic rock gods appeared on the Seat Geek app. Eagles tickets for a mere $170. I hastily flipped my iPhone off onto my wife’s lap in the passenger seat as if I had just won the lottery.

“Oh shit!” I said. “The Eagles tickets are in our price range. You have to snatch them super quick. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

It was my birthday weekend, January 23–25. All I wanted for my birthday was to see the Eagles’ last tour at The Sphere in Las Vegas. The problem was that tickets were usually in the $500-$1,000 range. My wife, Chris, and I both agreed that $200 was the most we were willing to pay.

My friend Mat was in Vegas with his wife a year earlier and purchased tickets at the last minute for $75. I even went with Mat last spring with that same plan. Tickets, however, never went below $250.

Maybe the planets would align, and it would be “One of These Nights.”

Chris and I even had a second motive to head to Vegas. Our 21-year-old daughter Brenna was in her first year coaching gymnastics, and her two teams of seven- to ten-year-olds were competing in Vegas.

Win, win… Or so I hoped.

My wife and I have different mindsets about gambling. Chris loves the excitement of playing the slots, calls it her “entertainment money,” and — on occasion — will win a few hundred dollars. She receives lots of practice at home on her Slotomania app.

Me? Well… I hate constantly losing. However, I didn’t mind gambling on a few sporting events. Even if I do lose, I enjoy following the game and cheering quietly for the teams I placed money on. So, I placed a $20 four-team basketball parlay that Friday afternoon.

Next, it was off to the Horseshoe Hotel on the other side of the strip to see our daughter coach. After crossing a few bridges, witnessing lots of debauchery, and avoiding numerous cards for strip joints, we finally made it to the Horseshoe with only minutes to spare until the competition began. Dinner would have to wait.

Then I spotted her.

Brenna looked nervous with her arms crossed, checking her phone. She walked over to a young gymnast, leaned down, spoke, I assume some words of encouragement, and gave her a “You got this!” high five. A fellow coach joined her on the sidelines. The two talked and looked serious, then shared a laugh to ease the tension. Even so, Brenna’s nervousness lingered, almost palpable from where I stood about fifty feet away.

The competition began. I watched her little team members flip, soar, and twirl around the bars and mats, but I was more focused on Brenna. I could see a little bit of myself in her as she whispered words of wisdom and enthusiastically high-fived after every gymnast performed.

The highlight that damn near brought me to tears was seeing two different performers attain perfect 10.0 scores from the judges — something I had never before witnessed in the numerous meets I had been to with Brenna when she was performing for eight years.

The two girls were shocked and ecstatic. Mouths wide open. Tears of joy. Brenna gave each of them a gigantic bear hug and beamed the biggest smile. So proud. So damn proud was Brenna. And her mom and dad. I seriously got chills, reminding me of coaching my middle school or Little League teams to championships. This, though, felt more special.

It made me temporarily forget my sports bets. I had nailed the first three games. Now, Utah State, up 63–61 with 1:45 left, just had to prevail. I watched on my iPhone as a late Colorado State jumper clanked off the rim. I had won. I was $108 richer.

I wanted to jump up and down to celebrate.

For my daughter’s team, that is.

After grabbing burgers at Johnny Rockets in the hotel’s food court, we headed back for the awards to see if Brenna’s two teams had won. I spotted Brenna. I told my wife I was going to go over and talk to her.

“No. Don’t,” she said. “I don’t think she wants us to.”

I heeded my wife’s advice and ignored my own instincts.

I thought about my coaching days. I never minded chatting after an event. But I wasn’t a rookie 21-year-old coach. Nor had I coached gymnastics.

More joy in Vegas. Both Brenna’s teams captured the gold medal.

“Now, can we go congratulate her?” I asked my wife.

“Let’s wait,” she said. “I’ll text her.”

We sauntered over to the casino. I watched my wife spin four different slot machines unsuccessfully, while also entertained by a peculiar family of three that definitely had more than one drink. Eventually, my daughter and her smiling, exuberant minion-sized athletes passed by like a championship parade.

“They’re going to celebrate in the food court,” my wife said. “She said she’d catch up with us tomorrow.”

I wanted so badly to share her special moment. But realized it was more important for Brenna to celebrate and spend time with her team.

Feeling lucky, on Saturday morning, I placed another $20 parlay… and, of course, lost all five games. Skeptically, I checked the Eagle tickets a dozen times, but they were still in the $500 range.

I chose Famous Dave’s Barbecue for my birthday dinner, a family staple that has never disappointed. Until now. I knew we were in trouble when we pulled into the strip mall parking lot. It was the same size and arrangement as a Chipotle. My wife wanted a margarita. The machine was broken.

My son Bryce called and offered to pay for the overpriced Eagles tickets as a birthday gift. That didn’t go over well. We didn’t want him to waste his money, and it put a damper on our already blah, subpar meal. I made one more check on Eagles tickets. $450. Oh well.

“When the blue lights have faded to blue.”

After dropping Brenna off, we headed back to Treasure Island. When magic struck on the final Eagle glance, with a mere forty-seven minutes until the Eagles take the stage.

“How are we ever going to make it there in time?” my wife asked.

“Easy. We park, cross the bridge, and it’s right behind the Venetian.”

It took three tries for tickets, and we did go a wee bit over our budget ($230), but we had Eagle tickets on our phones. Trying to find a parking spot had a true Hotel California vibe, only “there WASN’T plenty of room.” There was no room. Not until, oh, the fifth floor up.

Finally, we channeled all three of our kids’ track skills as we sprinted to the escalator, soared across the bridge, raced into the Venetian, and kept running like Forrest Gump on crack until I heard my wife yell, “Mike!”

“We have to hurry,” I respond.

“You can’t run through a casino!” she said. “Security will think you stole money.”

I kinda laughed, but did listen and resorted to speed-walking.

It was like Dorothy and her gang arriving in Oz, and magically, we turned the corner and saw the lobby of the Sphere. Chills definitely returned. We made the world’s longest elevator ride to the top level, bought an overpriced concert T-shirt (It’s my birthday…and it’s the Eagles), and two beers in badass concert cups and arrived in our aisle right as Hotel California was being played.

The concert-goers seemed displeased by our late arrival, but they had no idea the trouble we went to.

The show was amazing!

Every song had a story or cool graphics on the dome-shaped roof that was like watching IMAX to the hundredth power. They played all the hits. Not one to ever use my phone to record sporting events, I recorded six different songs.

My all-time favorite song and high school theme song is Don Henley’s “Boys of Summer,” and the storyline of cruising the beach with a lost love, kissing by a lifeguard station, running in the sand could easily fit with one of my summer love memoirs.

“Life in the Fast Lane” was particularly cool, showing a dude and his girl flying in a convertible down the Vegas Strip, a location that we had just seen minutes earlier.

Even Joe Walsh’s “Life is Good” was incredible. Even without Walsh, who had a bad case of the flu (literally the only show he had missed). However, Vince Gill was phenomenal filling in. When my buddy Mat went last year, Walsh’s singing wasn’t good. So this was a blessing in disguise.

Glenn Frey passed away in 2016. It took two people to replace him. Gill and Glenn Frey’s son, thirty-three-year-old Deacon, as he played his dad’s signature song “Take It Easy”, the first of four encore selections.

After “Rocky Mountain Way”, “Desperado”, and “Heartache Tonight,” the most amazing concert experience had ended.

Sort of.

My wife and I at the aftershow display. (Photo property of author).

Many concert-goers didn’t know of the special Hotel California exhibit en route back to the Venetian. Mostly meant for Eagles fans to spend more money. It definitely had cool, iconic scenes like the Hotel California lobby for some great Instagram moments.

Then it was time to leave Oz, aka the Eagles, at the Sphere.

There was time to place one more bet the next morning. I went with football this time. There were four teams left in the NFL playoffs: the Patriots, Broncos, Rams, and Seahawks.

I had a great vibe about the Seahawks and placed $20 for them to win the Super Bowl.

Two weeks later, at Super Bowl LX, I was $100 richer.

But that was not the highlight of that birthday weekend trip to Las Vegas. Nope. As a judge might say in boxing terms, it was a split decision.

There were two winners: Seeing the Eagles live at the Sphere… best concert ever! And winner №2: seeing my daughter coach her two teams to two championships.

Talk about a winning weekend.

Thanks for reading my story.