The Chicago Cubs and My First MLB Game, Pt. 2: The Magic of Hatfield Hot Dogs!

After catching my breath and settling myself down, it was time to take a more leisurely stroll around Citizens Bank Park.

It was now about half-past six, and the game wouldn’t start for another 45 minutes, so it was a perfect time to take a gander at my surroundings; of course, most of that time was spent rubber-necking toward the field.

I knew one thing had to be accomplished, but it had to be done so in a precise manner: Acquire a Hatfield Hot Dog.

It was dollar dog night, and at some point, the right point, my hands had to be filled with beer and hot dogs as my armpits would have to shoulder the responsibility of carrying the peanuts.

In the meantime, I must have circled CBP at least five or six times. I climbed all the way up to the mezzanine just to get a view, and was overwhelmed by the countless different family-oriented amenities and concourse concessions they had to offer.

One of the other interesting aspects of the park as mentioned before in part one was the openness of the park and the ability for anyone, anywhere to view the game; even ones who don’t have a seat ticket.

To me, that’s a beautiful gesture; it preserves the foundation of the game and provides the fans the opportunity to get a bird’s eye view of the team the love so much.

After spending time taking it all in I decided it was time to move onto food; after all the game was about to start, and although I am a diehard Cubs fan I am also fully aware of the type of food in Philadelphia.

I cleverly placed a plan into motion before ever reaching the park. Deep inside the recesses of my crawl was the blueprint of a perfectly designed architecture. It was now time to unveil my masterpiece.

You see, you can’t have a beer without a hot dog. You can’t have a hot dog without some peanuts to accompany. You can’t enjoy a hot dog without first scarfing down a bratwurst, and you can’t do ANY of this without an appetizer.

Starting to envision my diabolical plan?

In Philly, whether you have been to a game or not you can bank on hearing about Greg “The Bull” Luzinski, the BBQ king.

It is the first scent you smell upon entering the park, and hands down the best food I have ever consumed. BBQ pork, chicken, and ribs and each one of those choices are piled higher than most stomachs are designed to hold. Luckily for me my small frame can ingest an intimidating large amount of food at any one given time.

The purchase of the BBQ pork was to be followed by the acquisition of the bratwurst; little did I know the pork would be gone before I ever got to the vendor. Mission accomplished, the bratwurst was secured, onto the peanuts.

The peanuts had to come first since getting the beer and hot dogs would be easier to do right next to my seat on the way back. Peanuts under my arm—check!

The beer and hot dogs finale was at hand and as I relegated myself to my throne I checked my inventory:

One bag of peanuts, one giant bratwurst, two hot dogs and three beers; everything was in its right place.

I purchased a third beer to cover for the ensuing question from my beloved cousin which went a little something to the tune of:

“Oh is that mine?”

My plan was a success, and I began to...did I mention how beautiful this endeavor was becoming? I began to enjoy the fruits of my labor, but I must admit to something incredibly embarrassing.

To my defense let us all remember this was my first game.

As I began to eat the peanuts I had to turn to my cousin and ask if it was OK to throw the shells on the ground, Instead of responding, he simply turned and pointed to the floor below; my answer was literally at my feet.

Mortified by my idiotic question I usurped his beer away while he went for another— that’ll teach him.

The food was settling and the seats were rapidly filling up. The toss around was beginning to end and the Fanatic was pulling his ATV around third; it was almost time.

The day was starting to give way towards night, and as I turned to look around in a panoramic fashion for one more time, I began to feel the loyalty side kick in; the brethren that I was with had now become my sworn enemy for the duration of nine innings.

The level of anticipation was high, the nervousness was unbearable. Arresting. Overwhelming.

A moment of unexpected silence, and then a voice: “Ladies and Gentleman...”