We're Talking "Dogs" Here: Mark Sanchez and the Hot Dog scandal

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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 have been associated with sports since the beginning of time.

As a kid going to a ball game with my dad, it would never 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 percent 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 on 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 when 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 okay 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 five 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 bleeping hot dog, so what, get over it and get your BBQ ready and let's 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.

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