Non Sequitur by Wiley Miller for May 14, 2022

And the ball will have some odd movement after he gets his fingers greasy

Let’s see him after the Beer Man comes around.

I’ve never had a ballpark hotdog… and strongly suspect I never will. But I’ve heard some good things about some of them.

Ah, millionaires negotiating with billionaires! I just love the common touch of the average working-class joe.

I heard that Babe Ruth ate hot dogs during games.

You smell them cooking, you get hungry and they are wonderful.

Spit balls are so last season. Now it’s mustard balls.

The local triple A baseball team has a nice park. And there a stand that has large roast beef sandwiches which started life as last night’s prime rib at a pretty darned good local restaurant. Au jus that is just plain fine too. That, a good sized local microbrew, and a nice sized bag of peanuts for about $20. I can manage that. The box seats are well under $20 too. Life is tough on a nice afternoon (God didn’t invent baseball to be played under no steenkin’ lights) watching a game, and seeing next year’s MLB players before the tickets cost an arm, leg, your first born, and a lend-lease deal on the next door neighbor’s kid (the jokes on them with that last one).

“Put some mustard on it” was always the playground call for a fastball.

Check out the Wikipedia entry for Ball Park Franks. Funny.

Is he talking about the pitcher or the vendor?

I had a hot dog a Wrigley Field once. It was okay. Frankly, a hot dog is a hot dog. Wiggly Field was worth remembering though. Yeah “Wiggly”, that’s all me.

Ball park hot dog or gas station hot dog … what’s the difference? About 4 bucks.

Make him wait until he’s in the dugout, that’s what Babe Ruth did.

“Plus, his “mustard ball” is almost impossible to hit."

Not as bad as eliminating a specific color of M&Ms.

Sell him to McDonald’s

Meat in tubes. One of humanity’s greatest inventions.

Just don’t buy one from C. M. O. T. Dibbler.

Maybe Major League Baseball will have to have a 7th Inning Stretch time limit…..

Boston’s FENWAY FRANKS are the kingpins.The secret is in the buns.