Your Favorite Team is Trying to Kill You

I have bad news for anyone who loves eating, drinking, and baseball: Major League Baseball teams are trying to kill you.

The plot against America began in Baltimore.

For years, standard fare at MLB games included soggy hot dogs, watered-down metallic-tasting beers, and the occasional over-cooked brat. Some teams experimented with freeze-dried chips and cheez-whiz, which they had the temerity to call “nachos.” They were all reliably terrible.

When baseball teams began building fancy new stadiums, they realized they needed fancy new foods to come with them. The opening of Baltimore’s Camden Yards in 1992 gave us Boog’s BBQ (which by today’s standards, is pretty “meh”). Then came the Ichiroll, which begat Ben’s Chili Bowl, which begat Shake Shack, which begat $28 Beltre Burgers.

MLB catering services heeded no caloric limit as they sought to one-up each other season after season. However, in recent years, new ideas became less creative and almost pornographic: “what super fattening greasy food can we uncomfortably shove inside this other greasy, fattening food stuff?”

So, what was in store for baseball fans in 2016? America, behold.

braves-burger-pizza-pepperoniHoly shit.

What’s ridiculous about the Burgerizza (other than its sponsorship by Delaware North), is that it is completely impractical. While ballpark food in the past tasted like cardboard soaked in French’s, at least you could eat it without needing a pocketful of napkins. Or silverware. Or a dinner table. Or a defibrillator.

Kansas City: your fandom carried the Royals to their first World Series title in 30 years. Your reward: a bunch of fried phallic meat stuffed with cheese and bacon.

If I tried to smoke a cigarette at Yankee Stadium, I’d be forcibly removed within three minutes of lighting up. If ate three “Barnyard Weddings,” I’d be a goddamn hero. Thanks, Bloomberg.

Why would anyone ever want a sandwich deep-fried in Monster Energy Drink?

“Hey hon, get me the greasy rib sandwich coated in ungodly amounts of sugar and caffeine. I want to speed-up my heart attack tonight. You know, just so we can beat traffic out of here.” Typical Braves fan.

How can a state that’s so loudly pro-life allow this monstrosity to be sold to the public? Good old reliable Texas.

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Part of me wonders how this trend could ever end. What would it take? Diabetic shock behind home plate? Massive heart failure in the club level? I think if you asked most teams they’d term these menu options as “novelty items,” meant for “sharing.”

Don’t teams realize as red-blooded American patriots it is our right, neigh, our responsibility, to over-indulge and test the very limits of our ever-so-clogged arteries? Yes, which is why they keep creating these offensive (yet oh so tasty) abominations.

Moderation is for suckers.

Nonetheless, if you’re headed to the ballpark this year and are strapping on the feedbag, I have only one piece of advice: caveat emptor, baby.

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