Date With De La Hoya Takes Some Persuasion

There are times like this when a father is grateful his daughter cannot get a date. I mean, that’s what I told her when she called, and just my luck she’s still talking to me.

You see, she wants to go to the De La Hoya fight here at the MGM Grand, and she expects her father to get her a ticket, which is easier than getting two tickets, but it also might be the toughest ticket in sports right now, although I haven’t checked with scalpers to see how much they’re paying fans to take those Spark-Shock ducats off their hands.

“Jack Nicholson called a week ago,” said fight publicist Bill Caplan, “and I checked today and he still hasn’t been able to get a ticket.”

If he does, any chance he needs a date?

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I CHECKED the Internet. There were brokers offering $1,200 ringside tickets for $16,000 each.

The daughter will not be sitting at ringside.

I called L.A. ticket broker Gilbert Eshom from “razorgator.com,” and he said, “I got caught with my pants down.”

I thought it best not to mention the daughter’s availability to him.

“I didn’t expect this,” Eshom explained. “I sold a lot of these tickets cheap early on, but now things are just going crazy.”

It’s obviously because of De La Hoya, and his charisma, and while that’s why the daughter wants to see him fight, when I met him Thursday he was holding an itty-bitty phoo-phoo dog in his lap, and if that’s what makes him feel big and strong, too bad someone didn’t put a phoo-phoo mutt in his hands the last time he fought Mosley.

Too late now, but I probably shouldn’t have said anything about the phoo-phoo dog before putting in my ticket request.

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I RAN into Carrot Top in the MGM, asked Top if he had a ticket for the fight, and Top said he’s performing here and even he can’t get a ticket. But he said he knows the chief of security and intends to sneak in. All he has to do is avoid drawing attention to himself. I suppose if I was a good father I would’ve tried to set him up with the daughter and tried to get them both tickets. I have a feeling I might not sleep tonight thinking about that.

I called Gamal Aziz, the president and chief operating officer of the MGM Grand, told him I was staying in his hotel, and could I get a ticket?

“Depends on the size of your bankroll,” he said, “to put it bluntly.”

I told him I was good for another $300 at midnight when I could max out my ATM limit again, and he said, “I’ve had the chairman of the board for several large companies ask for tickets, and I’ve been able to do little for them,” the MGM Big Shot said. “It’s just great for the MGM, but we had no idea how big this was going to get.”

What if I called and told you I was Andy Ashby and I had millions to burn and lots of free time on my hands, could I get a ticket?

“First timers could not get a ticket,” said the MGM Big Shot. “It all depends on our customer’s rating with the casino. We keep a rating on all of our guests depending on their spending habits, and it entitles customers to a certain ticket. The higher you go, the more tickets. That’s a relationship established over years.”

If only I had been a better father while the kid was growing up, and spent more time gambling here.

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AS FATHER-daughter weekends go, this one’s going to be tough.

This is the Notre Dame kid, and she’s never seen me cheering for the Trojans before -- let alone betting on them, or taking Michigan against the Irish.

I need that ticket. I joined a group of reporters in Shane Mosley’s suite, and figuring none of his friends will want to be here to see him get beaten up, he might have a ticket to sell.

But I couldn’t hear a word Mosley said. The guy speaks so softly, it’s as if he’s afraid someone is going to smack him if he says something wrong. Maybe that’s why he became a boxer, so he could talk and then, if necessary, defend himself.

Fortunately his father and his promoter do a lot of the talking for him. In fact, his promoter, Gary Shaw, was whining about the number of hotel suites, rooms and tickets for the fight that were given to the Mosley camp, and it didn’t sound good for the daughter.

“Bob Arum sold me two tickets for the wife and I for the eighth row,” Shaw said. “I thought it was sweet of him to sell them for $1,200 at face value; at least he didn’t scalp them to me.... Arum controls everything. Shane’s wife is in a room on a different floor, and so is Shane’s dad.”

If Arum controls everything, why was I wasting my time with a lightweight like Shaw?

“I’m the promoter of this thing, so of course I control everything,” Arum huffed. “Are they crazy? They have absolutely no risk. Rooms, tickets -- what are they talking about. I’m not on the top floor -- look at my key. People sign contracts, we delivered on everything. Shaw needed 10 more tickets, I took care of him, and at face value because I never sell tickets for more than face value.”

I had my opening. “Prove it,” I said. “Sell me a ticket at face value so I can demonstrate how honest you are.”

“I’ve only got a few $300 seats remaining,” he said. “If Bill Clinton called -- and I love Bill Clinton -- and he wanted two tickets, I couldn’t get them for him because he wouldn’t want the $300 tickets.”

I wondered who would be using Clinton’s second ticket, but I didn’t ask because I didn’t want to sidetrack Arum, who agreed to sell me a $300 ticket at face value for the daughter.

I’ll let you know later what a scalper paid for it -- if she doesn’t behave herself during the USC game.

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T.J. Simers can be reached at t.j.simers@latimes.com.