The Tampa Bay Rays haven’t hired a kid to ride around their box office shaking down customers for an extra two bucks. But with their latest spin on ticket pricing, the Rays seem to be paying tribute to the John Cusack movie "Better off Dead."

This season, if you want to buy a Rays ticket within five hours of gametime, it will cost an additional $2. The Rays, hoping to inspire fans to purchase tickets in advance, are penalizing walk-ups with a surcharge. For a team that has struggled to sell tickets at any price, this doesn’t seem like a sound marketing strategy. For a team trying to rally support for a controversial referendum for new a ballpark that could appear on the ballot in November, it seems downright foolish.

When you’re a struggling franchise, you do whatever it takes to create the illusion that your tickets are a hot item. When Arthur Blank purchased the Atlanta Falcons, he offered season tickets in the upper deck at the rate of $10 a ticket. The idea worked and soon the Falcons were selling out every game. Back when Michael Vick was electrifying fans (and not just dogs), the Falcons were an exciting team and Blank gradually was able to raise those $10 rates.

In the early 1990s, I was among the few dozen people who held season tickets to the Washington Bullets, a bad team run poorly, sort of the Devil Rays of the NBA for the last two decades. The team president, Susan O’Malley, was famous for creating smoke-and-mirrors sellouts. She’d give away thousands of free upper bowl tickets in the depressing Capital Centre so she could announce games as sellouts. At least once a month, I’d find extra Bullets tickets in the mail. Just what I needed; it was tough enough unloading my prime center court seats when I had other plans.

Give O’Malley credit, though. More often than not, her scheme worked. The building was full, forcing people to buy tickets in advance, much like Falcons fans had to commit to purchasing season tickets for the first time in franchise history. No longer could they just show up an hour before the game. Gradually, O’Malley was able to pull back on the number of freebies she distributed. The team still stunk, but in 1997 it got a boost by moving into a new arena. A few years later, the team enjoyed another windfall when an aging Michael Jordan tried to jumpstart the snakebit franchise.

Jordan and O’Malley are long gone now. The Bullets/Wizards still are mediocre and again there are plenty of good seats available. Perhaps they should rekindle those O’Malley ticket giveaways.

This isn’t just a sports phenomenon. In the early days of the Internet, airlines sent out weekly e-mails for bargain basement airfares. On Wednesdays in the late ’90s, people in the Northeast were scheduling weekend trips to Florida for $129 roundtrip. It was as if the airlines were rewarding people for not making travel plans in advance.

The airlines recognized that it did them no good to fly with empty seats. So why not fill them with people who would not otherwise travel – regardless of price? These weekday airline specials don’t exist anymore. There are fewer airlines and not as many flights and, not surprisingly, airlines travel at near capacity. But it was a sound business strategy while it lasted. I’m not an airline industry analyst, but I’m guessing it helped keep the perennially struggling USAir afloat for a few years. This is an airline that has been mismanaged at every level; USAir even purchased naming rights to the Capital Centre, which is like paying to stick your name on a port-a-john that’s been through Mardi Gras.

Speaking of airlines, one of the best promotions the Rays ever had – and I realize that phrase belongs in the "tallest of the seven dwarfs category" – was the Southwest Freedom Fare Seats. In the early days of the franchise, when they attracted national sponsors in prominent categories such as "airlines," Southwest was the official airline of the Devil Rays. The Rays installed several rows of actual leather airline seats in the right field and left field stands. Unlike on a plane, there was plenty of legroom, so they actually were desirable seats, especially being in the lower bowl and especially at just $3 for adults, $1.50 for seniors and kids.

I’m not making this up, though looking at the 2000 media guide, the price does seem hard to believe. Interestingly, the Rays had a much higher payroll ($60 million) in 2000 than they do today and far less income from revenue sharing, baseball’s national television package, and the cash cow of MLB Advanced Media, which barely existed in Y2K.

Southwest, like many Devil Rays sponsors, took off as soon as its expansion multi-year sponsor deal was over. Now those same seats, in the back rows of sections 133-141 , cost a minimum of $22 for a "regular" game and $38 for a "prime" game featuring the Yankees, Red Sox, or Cubs. Tack on an additional two dollars per ticket if not purchased at least five hours before gametime.

Here’s the irony of those Southwest Freedom Fares: They were only available at the stadium box office within two hours of gametime. In 2000, a 40-year-old guy might have decided in late afternoon to attend a game with his 65-year-old father and 10-year-old son. They could have purchased three Southwest tickets for a grand total of $6.

This year, those three tickets cost $72 – or $120 for prime games.  Is there anything anywhere that has been marked up more considerably in the last eight years? Even real estate has come back down.

Interestingly, sports franchises no longer list ticket prices in media guides, no doubt to discourage these sort of comparisions down the road.

In fairness to the Rays, the price of upper reserved outfield tickets has increased from $10 to no more than $16 (for premium games not purchased in advance). In fact, an upper reserved ticket to a regular game bought in advance actually is just $9.

So it’s hard to accuse the Rays of being too stingy. After all, Southwest probably bore the cost of those tickets. (The Rays could be faulted for not snagging another airline sponsor.) But the $2 surcharge still is inexcusable. Rather than taking a pro-active, fan-friendly approach like the Bullets, Falcons – or even the 2000 Devil Rays – the Rays are penalizing customers for not buying tickets in advance.

Sometimes you have to wonder if the newcomers running the Rays understand the economics of the Tampa Bay area. Yes, it’s the 13th-largest market in the country. Yes, there’s considerable money here, much more so than in 2000. But since 2000, Tampa Bay has become one of the most expensive places to live in the country. It has among the worst ratios of salaries to cost-of-living. Since 2000, real estate prices have doubled, homeowners insurance quadrupled, and now we’re in a recession.

Many of the well-heeled people with waterfront homes live here only part of the year – in the winter. They’re not buying Rays tickets. The folks that might consider supporting the Rays do live here year-round and face the cost-of-living challenges. Even though the Rays have many affordable tickets, especially compared to other markets, hitting them with a $2 surcharge seems like something out of the Vince Naimoli era. Heck, in fairness to Naimoli, he never came up with a surcharge.

At a time when the Rays are warehousing overripe prospect Evan Longoria in Durham to save a few dollars down the road, the surcharge seems terribly shortsighted, especially for a team that seems to be focused mainly on 2012, the year a potential new stadium could open.

If the Rays want to discourage people from waiting until the last minute, stage a few Susan O’Malley smoke-and-mirrors sellouts. A few last-minute "airfares" would be priceless in terms of goodwill, and perhaps worth a few stadium votes come November. Then there’s always the one sure-fire strategy for making tickets scarce and inspiring people to buy in advance.

That would be winning, of course. And if the Rays can accomplish that this season, as many believe they will, they’ll soon be able to raise ticket prices 30 percent across the board like the Buccaneers and hear nary a protest.

Chris Long could be the top overall pick in next month’s NFL Draft. An All-America defensive end at the University of Virginia, he almost certainly won’t last beyond the fifth selection.

Like a lot of top draft choices, he’ll have numerous endorsement opportunities. Companies no doubt are salivating over Long, who is well-spoken, handsome, and unlike the rest of his draft class has seen commercials actually filmed.

Last year, Brady Quinn seemed to jump for every endorsement dollar thrown his way. That’s unlikely to happen with Long, at least if his family history is any indication.

Long’s father, Howie Long, is a natural on camera. He was a gregarious interview subject during his NFL Hall of Fame career. In the early 1990s, he was so convincing in Radio Shack commercials with Teri Hatcher that some people think the desperate housewife is Chris Long’s mother. (She’s not; Howie married his college sweetheart and they have three sons, all elite athletes.)

Howie Long no doubt has turned down many endorsement opportunities, which is something other ex-jocks should consider. For every Long who judiciously chooses what to pitch, there are four Dan Marinos shilling for weight loss programs, financial products, and Internet sites.  Hall of Fame coach and successful restaurant guy Don Shula, who presumably doesn’t need the money, is touting hearing aids. A few years ago, Wade Boggs was pitching a Tampa hair restoration company. He wasn’t just a spokesman; he was an actual client.

Hey, everyone is entitled to make some easy dough, no matter how much you have already. If you want to look cheesy and undignified, that’s your call. But is it a good long-term business decision? About 15 years ago, Johnny Bench was everywhere. He was a spokesman for USA Today and Krylon spray paint, among many other things. Now he’s nowhere to be found.

Is Bench any less of an all-time baseball great now than he was in 1993? Or could it be people just got sick of him. It’s hard to measure overexposure. TV viewers never seemed to get tired of Chevrolet’s "Like a Rock" campaign, which used a Bob Seger song for more than a decade. A similar Chevy spot, featuring John Mellencamp’s "Our Country" grew old quickly.

Howie Long, years removed from Radio Shack, now stars in a series of Chevy ads. In the spots, he drives around in a manly (Chevy) truck offering manly advice and looking manly as only he can. (It was the late Hunter S. Thompson who once declared Long the "manliest man alive.")

Granted, Long looks like a Hollywood action hero and, indeed, has starred in such films. Bench, with his bald head and squatty physique, looks like an aging former catcher. It figures the better-looking guy will get more offers.

But what about Marino? Like Long, he’s a handsome, well-spoken guy with a high-profile TV career and world-class natural hair.  Unlike Long, Marino seems to star only in campy ads for weight-loss products, adjustable beds, and nutritional supplements. He seems to work for three TV networks and even has his own self-named restaurant.

In other words, he’s the new overexposed Johnny Bench, at least for now. With Brett Favre now retired, Marino might lose his status as the most popular retired quarterback on the endorsment market.

Favre seems like he’ll take the Howie Long approach to marketing, sticking with rugged products like Wrangler jeans that fit his personality. As for Long, I expect 10 years from now he’ll be doing pretty much what he is now, offering insight for Fox and pitching a short list of clients in memorable commercials.

By then, he’ll probaby be joined by NFL veteran Chris Long and All-Star left-handed pitcher Kyle Long. By taking the long-term view of an endorsement career, Howie the pitchman will never grow old.

In today’s Wall Street Journal, columnist Sue Shellenbarger writes about the growing trend of parents not only helping their children with college applications – but taking time from work and even quitting jobs to do so.

Yep, apparently the phenomenon of micromanaging "helicopter" parents has reached a new level. Kids no longer can be counted upon to fill out those pesky college applications on their own, let alone in a timely manner.

Is it that difficult to knock out a few college applications? I’ve never understood this. When I applied to college back in the stone age of 1986-87, I did so on an electric typewriter. I modified the same basic essay for each of the eight schools I applied to, got my parents to write a few $40 checks, and stuck the packets in the mail. I don’t imagine I spent more than 10 hours on the entire process, most of which was dedicated to writing essays.

Heck, I probably could have saved a few hours if we owned an early computer with word processing. Instead, I went through a half ream of paper. What excuse do the members of the Class of 2008 and 2009 have? My guess is it has something to do with an utter lack of writing skills. A cottage industry has sprung up to "help" kids write their college admissions essays. Having taught journalism classes at the college level, I’ve seen firsthand how we’ve lowered the bar when it comes to writing expectations.

Shellenbarger also reports how stressful it is for parents and children to arrange and take campus visits. Are you kidding me? What’s so hard about this? I remember one day in the fall of 1986 my parents let me take a day off to visit the College of William and Mary. I made the two-and-a-half hour drive myself and spent about an hour on the campus. I walked around class buildings, the student union, and the bookstore. Then, like Clark Griswold viewing the Grand Canyon, I quickly nodded and left to visit relatives who lived nearby.

This WSJ column is timely. Just yesterday, I was scrolling through the profiles of my "connections" on linkedin.com and was reminded of how many sportswriters went to top colleges such as Stanford, Princeton, Penn, Georgetown, North Carolina, and Vanderbilt. My alma mater, the University of Virginia, has produced a disproportionate share of sports scribes for a school without a journalism program.

Now you could argue that we have squandered our prestigious sheepskins by toiling in the sports media and I’d be hard pressed to offer anything beyond the do-what-you-love defense. But I wonder if we didn’t get into those universities in part because we developed strong writing skills in high school. Journalists are detail oriented and deadline driven. I bet most of my colleagues had little trouble with their college applications. Maybe we should hire ourselves out to write college essays.

Granted, there are plenty of prominent journalists who went to lesser-known colleges or none at all, as there are in every profession. There also are self-made billionaires who can’t write a coherent sentence without help.

As a parent, I’m not worried about what college my sons attend. I’ll be more concerned, when the time comes, if they lack the discipline, independence, and writing skills to knock out a few college applications.

Funny how often sports and politics collide. The two biggest stories in New York right now involve Elliot Johnson and Eliot’s johnson.

On Saturday, Elliot Johnson, an obscure infielder for the Tampa Bay Rays, plowed over a Yankees back-up catcher, infuriating Yankee fans and manager Joe Girardi. Yesterday, it was revealed that Eliot Spitzer, the New York governor, plowed over – er – hired a prostitute in Washington on Feb. 13 and paid her $4,300, according to news reports.

The governor’s alleged tryst took place in D.C.’s Mayflower Hotel, best known in baseball history as the site of several futile negotiating sessions during the 1994-95 players’ strike. (It’s not to be confused with the Ritz Carlton Pentagon City, the popular NBA team hotel where the Feds first approached Monica Lewinski and where Marv Albert had some of the more colorful moments of his career.)

One of the many bizarre episodes of the baseball strike negotiations took place at the Mayflower when President Clinton – a man who today can feel Spitzer’s pain – summoned the players and owners to the White House. The negotiating teams thought Clinton was going to mediate. Instead, he asked for a few autographs and talked ball for a couple of hours. This, looking back, set a bad precedent. Within six years, a baseball owner occupied the Oval Office.

The White House negotiations took place Feb. 8, 1995, almost 13 years to the day of Spitzer’s pre-Valentine’s Day session. Want to hazard a guess as to which future Yankees manager was among the players talking to Clinton that night? Yep, Joe Girardi was at the time actively involved in the players’ association. Heck, it’s possible Girardi even could have been staying in Room 871 of the Mayflower Hotel, future site of Spitzer’s encounter with a New York-based call girl who used the name "Kristen."

Spitzer registered under the name "George Fox," which isn’t nearly as slick as, say, "Ron Mexico." George Fox sounds like the type of vanilla name someone invents under pressure, like Jan Brady’s fake boyfriend George Glass. Instead, George Fox actually is a longtime friend and supporter of the governor’s.

It’s sort of like how Michael Jordan once checked into hotels under the name of the last guy to make the varsity team M.J. got cut from as a high school sophomore. (Jordan, like most pros, uses aliases for privacy in hotels.) At least Jordan didn’t list the name of a close friend and supporter like Spitzer did with Fox, a hedge fund guy who presumably has given the governor a few bucks over the years.

Spitzer has been identified as "Client-9" in the federal complaint. "Kristen" apparently works for an international prostitution ring known as the "Emperors Club VIP," which sounds like a name under consideration for premium seating at the new Yankee Stadium. According to the recently-removed Emperors Club website, women were ranked with a "diamond" system. Fees varied from $1,000 to more than $5,500 an hour, a range that’s less than what the Yankees paid Roger Clemens last season, but comparable to what the Rocket is now paying to lawyers.

Spitzer paid "Kristen" $4,300, which represents more than what Elliot Johnson will pull down next month as a member of the Durham Bulls. If nothing else, Eliot’s johnson seems to have pushed Elliot Johnson into the inside pages of the New York tabloids, who have been treating the play as nothing less than Pete Rose bowling over Ray Fosse in the 1970 All-Star Game.

Girardi was upset that Johnson rolled catcher Francisco Cervelli, who suffered a fractured right wrist. The manager called it "uncalled for" in spring training and believes different rules apply to the laidback exhibition season. As if to prove his point, Girardi on Thursday will allow Billy Crystal to play against the Pirates, giving the actor and longtime Yankees fan an early 60th birthday present.

Crystal is a huge Roger Maris fan, having directed an HBO film about him. Given the circumstances, it’s better that Crystal will wear No.60 instead of Maris’ retired No.9.

Elliot Johnson, meanwhile, isn’t expected in the Major Leagues this season. Cervelli is considered the Yankees’ catcher of the future. Which means when he reaches the Yankees for good, he’ll need an alias when he checks into hotels. Something generic and forgettable.

Something like Elliot Johnson.