Feed me out at the ballgame
April E. Clark
Glenwood Springs, CO Colorado
The Red, White and Blue’s favorite pastime just might be the antidote for surviving the recession blues.
The other Red, White and Blue ” Pabst Blue Ribbon ” comes in a close second.
Saturday I attended my first Colorado Rockies game at Coors Field. The experience was fierce (I’m trying to use more hip language in 2009). And it seemed, at least for a night, that all was right with the world. No layoffs, salary cuts, stock market drops or company closures. Instead, there were peanuts, popcorn, hot dogs and cold beers. And the glorious sound of ball meeting bat.
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It’s been several years since I last caught a baseball game at a major league ballpark. Baseball games are quite the show, both in the auditory and sensory perceptions. I’ve actually heard people say baseball is boring, which I don’t get. There’s always the chance a foul ball can fly into the stands, setting off a frenzy of wannabe pop-fly catchers. Of course there’s pretty funny, fairly tame trash-talking by fans as well.
Except when Manny Ramirez steps up to bat.
I haven’t heard booing like that since 1992 when I tried my hand at a lingerie contest on spring break in Daytona Beach. Girls, it really does take skin to win those contests. So if that’s not an option, don’t even try it.
God help me if I ever have a daughter.
Sitting in the stands, waiting for out-of-the-park homers and exciting slides are all part of the fun, too. But what I really love about a good, old-fashioned baseball game is the food. All that fabulous food. Walking into Coors Field, the aroma hit me like a foul ball to the face. Except the ball wasn’t hard and a nose breaker. It was more like a Nerf baseball that startles but doesn’t do too much rhinoplasty-inducing damage.
Unless we’re talking about my diet here.
The evening started innocently enough. I had a few of Kendra and Dane’s peanuts. I double-dipped into Liz and Jono’s bag of buttered popcorn. I had a couple of ice-cold $10 beers ” OK it was more like $6.50. But I won’t complain too much.
Beer and baseball make such a cute couple.
Then, just when I needed it the most, in came the Rockie Dog. At an impressive 10 inches and topped with grilled peppers and onions, this bad mama jama is really more premium kosher beef than I need. But like ice-cold beer, hot dogs have the perfect place on baseball’s arm.
Three’s company, not a crowd.
I googled the Rockie Dog and found that a “whopping 2,500 are sold per game,” according to the now-defunct Rocky Mountain News. I believe at least 12 were consumed in our small group. Llama, you know who you are. I also found an interesting tidbit in the article about Rocky Mountain Oysters sold at the Grille in Section 144. These little suckers ” or is it ballers? ” aren’t quite as popular as hot dogs. The Grille only sells about 25 orders per game.
Um, they are testicles.
“They keep them on the menu for a group of fans who requested them ” and who seem to show up every game to buy them,” wrote Marty Meitus, in the April 1, 2008, Coors Field concessions feature.
Holy heart attack.
If I were to show up at every Rockies game and consume the madness I called dinner Saturday ” we didn’t even get to the nachos ” I might need a cardiologist’s number in my phone’s Favorites. Call up some deep-fried Rocky Mountain Oysters, and I’m thinking a force out.
God help me if I ever start a serious diet during baseball season.
At least I would forget about the recession for a while.
April E. Clark is and always will be a Cubs fan, but had fun rooting for the Rockies. She can be reached at email@example.com.
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Wouldn’t it be nice if we could all learn to think for ourselves instead of having our opinions shaped by some meme, commercial, or talk show host?