It was a good seat. Not the Top Box, granted, or even the top row, but a good seat nonetheless.
Karkaroff stroked his goatee with one hand and idly twirled the adjustment knobs on his Omnioculars with the other, cranking up the speed settings. He would need them on maximum if he wanted Viktor to be anything more than a crimson blur, especially if he went into one of his Wronski Feints. The high settings would impair Karkaroff's ability to see the other, slower-flying players, but that hardly mattered.
It wasn't as though he'd be looking at anyone else, anyway.