Hot Dogs: A Sports Tradition
There are very few foods or food groups for that matter are sacred to the American Way of Life. Unquestionably the “Hot Dog” is one of those treats that has been associated with sports since the beginning of time.
As a kid going to a ball game with my Dad or any sporting event it never would seem complete unless we had a couple of dogs along with all the condiments that you could fit on a six to eight inch bun.
It seemed that these dogs were always so much better at a game then the ones served at home with a side of sauerkraut, baked beans, and loads of mustard, ketchup, pickles, onions and whatever else might be available.
I have always been very picky about my dogs. Occasionally I’d sprinkle a little ketchup on mine but more than 90% of the time it was the dog on the roll and nothing else. My family thought it strange because after they finished putting all the toppings on their dog a keen sighted visitor would have trouble identifying what was in the roll.
In my house nothing but Hebrew National dogs crossed our threshold. On the street we would only but a Sabrettes dog from a cart and those rare trips to Coney Island if anything but a Nathans dog crossed our lips I was sure I would be sent to purgatory.
So what’s the big fuss about Mark Sanchez munching on a dog late in the fourth quarter and his team was up 38-0? Is there a rule somewhere hidden deep in the bowels of the NFL rule book that says there should be no eating or drinking on the bench during the game?
I think not for if there was Gatorade might just go right out of business. Let’s face it. The man was hungry and he saw an opportunity to munch down a dog to curb his already upset stomach. That’s what my doctor always said, if you’re having trouble keeping food down and you get a little hungry it means your stomach is OK now and a hot dog, if available, is as good as it gets.
Talk about scrutiny. Give this kid a break. He didn’t throw 5 interceptions again. He didn’t make foolish plays and cause turnovers which would become scores against his team. He didn’t shoot himself in the foot or punch out his teammate.
He had a frickin dog, so what, get over it and get your BBQ ready and lets cook some up. It’s not like eating ice cream at 3:30 in the afternoon that will ruin your appetite for dinner. It just a hot dog.
It’s the American way. Hey Mark, pass the apple pie will ya.
Richard Marsh is the author of “The Blog” From Vegas Rich and is also a featured contributor on Bleacher Report.
how dare he eat!? showing signs of being human on television is a sin!
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