Dispatch From Dollar Hot Dog Night.

       As I have for most of the last decade, I got my brother tickets to a baseball game for his birthday.  Last year, he turned 42, so it seemed quite appropriate to take in Jackie Robinson Day in Philly to watch our beloved Mets (slowly implode and lose).  This year, while perusing the Mets/Phillies dates early in the year, I was presented with three choices of premium: T-Shirt Night, Schedule Night, or Dollar Hot Dog Night.  That is a pretty easy decision; I mean, what the hell am I gonna do with a magnetic Phillies schedule and I certainly have no use (other than cleaning up after the dog) for a Phillies T-Shirt.  But two, shall we say, robust gentlemen at dollar hot dog night?  Now you're talkin'!

Plus, I decided not to skimp on the seats, either, getting 14th row behind the Mets' dugout.  Seeing as my brother was nice enough to get me this beauty for Christmas, it was the least I could do.  This wonderful view would be the high point of the evening, baseball wise.

Dillon Gee set the Phillies down 1-2-3 on eight pitches in the bottom of the 1st, so it seemed like this was gonna be a nice tight pitchers duel between him and Cliff Lee (Gee vs. Lee!).  Sadly, it was not to be.  Lee held up his end of the bargain, but Gee pitched a little batting practice in the second inning, giving up four runs - and he was lucky it wasn't more.  Fortunately, we had Dollar Hot Dogs to drown our sorrows:

That is a pile of six hot dogs purchased in a major league stadium.  Normally, that requires a home equity loan, but not on this glorious night. Much to my surprise, there was no limit to the number you could buy and they were real hot dogs, not discount crap ones.  Fatty McGee here was in heaven.

My brother was impressed by this initial haul and after we polished them off in quick order, he said "That was great, want some more?" and I was like "damn right!"  So I got up to go get more.  Suddenly, my brother chimes in, "hey! I'm gonna come with you, I want to see this gigantic pile of hot dogs..."  This decision would come back to haunt us.  In 20+ years and 100's of ballgames, we had never, ever gone to the concessions stand at the same time.  While standing on this line with an endless sea of Phillies fans, Dillon Gee gave up not one, not two, but three home runs...all in the span of eight pitches (sound familiar?).  As the frenzy died down around us, I looked at my brother and calmly said "We are never fucking going to the concession stand at the same time ever again." He could only nod his head in agreement.

The game was now 7-0 and, the way Lee was pitching, clearly out of hand.  When this happens, you have to find other ways to pass the time at a ball game.  Aside from stuffing myself with dollar dogs, I found two sure fire ways to amuse myself at this massacre.  #1 Bird Watching:

And I don't mean Marlon Byrd.  My eyes quickly found this redheaded punk rock girl in a Kirk Nieuwenhuis jersey.  She was sitting with a dude in a Carlos Ruiz jersey.  I should have rescued her and whisked her away to be with a real fan.  Twenty year old Max would have not thought twice about doing this.  Man, am I getting old.

#2 Antagonizing the locals:

The dude in the very lowest right hand corner had a Dave Cash Phillies jersey on (and kudos to him for being the only Phillies fan I have seen in the last few years with a throwback/vintage jersey other than Mike Schmidt).  After Jimmy Rollins made a terrible play on a ball, I made a few cracks about how he is wash up, how he had a rag arm, how undeserving of his MVP award he was, etc. etc.  Dave Cash dude immediately stood up to defend him and we got into it pretty good.  The mood sort of hung in the air for an inning until Ruben Tejada booted a grounder and I also made a crack about how he has 6 errors in like 7 games.  We then had a laugh about the whole thing.  Overall, I enjoyed his moxie.  Also keeping up the cliche of Philly fans was the girl who was drunk, passed out, and throwing up by the 4th(!) inning.  Stay Classy, Philadelphia.

The final score of the game was Phillies 8 Mets 3.  And it wasn't that close.  More importantly, in the battle of the titans, I eked out a victory over my bro: 6 hot dogs to 5.  And honestly, I could have eaten many more but my brother threw in the towel after five.  I had a good nine or ten in me, if I had to.