Running Out of Material?

Outta Leftfield: Hot-diggity-dog! Phillies expand the feedbag for upcoming season

In this 3/31 print column, Morsch seems to be covering old ground. Can we really stomach two hotdog articles in the span of two days? Actually, that might be a better pun than the "hot-diggity-dog" that MM settled on.

There really isn't much to cover here. MM attended a media event at Citizen's Bank Park to help them select their new "signature" hotdog for Phillies games. A few highlights:

All the big club has to do is offer a free meal — in the name of good journalism of course — and there’s not a reporter in Southeastern Pennsylvania who wouldn’t show up for the feedbag.

Me included.

Wow, so after stating that there isn't a reporter in the whole region (of which he is one) who wouldn't go, Morsch feels the need to add: "Me included." As usual, that goes without saying.

Now as a big fan of ballpark fare — I am especially partial to much of what is served at Bull’s Barbecue; the Schmitter; the cheesesteaks at Tony Luke’s; and despite the sometimes long lines, I enjoy the Chickie’s and Pete’s crab fries — I am particularly fond of hotdogs in general.

He just named "much of" the food at every eatery in Citizen's Bank Park.

You may recall from past columns that back in our younger days in Illinois, Larry and I would go to the ballpark in St. Louis and buy three seats — one for him, one for me and one between the two of us to put all the hotdogs we were going to eat during the ballgame. So he knows good hotdog player evaluation practices when he sees them.

WHAT? "Good hotdog player evaluation practices"? At this point I'm completely lost. And I don't recall him every mentioning Larry from Illinois before.

MM then describes the hotdog choices in terrible, terrible detail, and notes:

Notice how the descriptions all included the words “all-beef Hatfield hotdogs” in them. The public relations professionals at food vendor Aramark did their job on that press release, huh?

If by "did their job" you mean accurately describing what the hotdogs are made of, then you are correct, Mr. Morsch. You might try "doing your job" sometime by including some actual humor in your column.

In addition, I had difficulty keeping the dog on the pretzel roll. I like my pretzels just the way they are, thank you, so I can tear off bits and dunk them in mustard or cheese, like a guy who’s looking for a real heart attack.

Clumsy, fat, dripping mustard and cheese all over himself… the Blonde Accountant has my sympathy.

And finally, I took the opportunity to spill something from each hotdog on my shirt — which from experience I know happens every time a get a hotdog at the ballpark — and I thought the Amish pepper hash spillage coordinated best with my ballpark attire.

I didn't even read this before I wrote "dripping mustard and cheese all over himself." The "every time a get a hotdog" is [sic], of course.