June 11, 2015
Rich Hofmann/for PhillyVoice
J.P. Crawford is now in Reading, and so was a whole bunch of food on Tuesday.
Ever since hearing about the free loaf of bread some years ago (during a Pedro Martinez rehab start!), I was 100 percent in on totally absurd Reading Fightin Phils promotions. So when Tuesday afternoon rolled around and something called “Mega Gluttony Night” was mentioned on my Twitter feed, I had to at least look into the possibility of making a trip up to Berks County.
As luck would have it, three of my buddies had already earmarked the same game to see another friend, who just so happens to be the strength and conditioning coach for that night’s opponent, the Altoona Curve. Well, that and they also wanted to completely stuff their faces with food. Less than an hour later, we were all headed up the Turnpike up toward Reading.
What initially sucked me in was the honesty of the whole thing. Sure, they could’ve easily dubbed the promotion “All You Can Eat Night,” and that name wouldn’t have been misleading at all. They could’ve even simply went with “Gluttony Night,” but instead decided to ramp things up, raise the stakes, and call it “Mega Gluttony Night.” All I kept picturing was the scene in “Heavyweights” after the campers throw their dear old Uncle Tony into the makeshift prison.
Before we get any further, let’s take care of a few housekeeping issues. Was partaking in the promotion healthy? Absolutely not! Would I recommend doing this more than once in a blue moon? Nope! Am I going to try to eat better and either run or play hoops every day this week? You bet. But do I have any regrets? Not a one.
About a month ago, I spent a weekend in Reading profiling the team’s interesting set of starting pitchers and enjoyed my time their immensely. In fact, I hope to go back there later in the year. But on this occasion, my main objective was to sit in the stands as a fan and inhale a bunch of food. If any really important things happened out on the diamond and I missed them as a journalist, so be it. Nothing major happened anyway.
So how was it? In a word, excellent. After parking, which of course is free, I was tasked with buying a ticket after my three companions had previously secured theirs. I showed one to the nice young fellow at the ticket office and asked if I could purchase another in the same section, and he came back with a ticket free of charge. This was my lucky day! Now, I wouldn’t count on getting in free if you head up to a Fightins game, but the way everybody at the ballpark treats you is an A+. I couldn’t recommend the ballpark experience up there more.
Ah, so you’re probably wondering about the food. For the low price of eight dollars, we all received one of those yellow wristbands that reminded me of ones that nightclubs or bars give out when they’re having some sort of special. Let’s just say none of those specials compared to this. After purchasing a wristband, you were allowed to eat however much your stomach would allow all the way up until the seventh-inning stretch. To make sure some semblance of order was preserved, a few ground rules were made clear.
Fair enough. Now that we were unfortunately made aware that using your shirt to carry eight hot dogs at once to your seat wasn’t an option, the first question was what to start with. I elected to go with a hot dog and fries. Just in case you don’t know what a hot dog and fries look like, here’s a picture.
After quickly polishing them off at a table in the concourse, I decided to get another hot dog and bring it back to our seat while also purchasing a beer (free soda was included in the deal). On the way, I found this sign, which I found funny considering everything that I and many like-minded individuals in the stadium stood for on this night.
There was a baseball game being played in absolutely perfect weather, although truth be told, it wasn’t the Fightins’ night out there. Once burner/speedster/very fast man Roman Quinn got gunned down at the plate, you kind of had the feeling it was going to be pretty tough for the home team to get a W.
Here’s a bad picture of J.P. Crawford, who went 1-4 at the plate with a single. I was pretty excited to finally get an up-close look at they guy I’ve read so much about. It honestly was one of the worst games he played all season, which goes to show how good he’s been both in Clearwater and in Reading. To be fair to Crawford, though, he’s never played well on Mega Gluttony Night in his career.
Back to the important stuff: I was pretty full by the fifth inning after another stop at the concession stands, and when I say that, the mere sight of food disgusted me. This was a problem, because you can’t really say you’ve enjoyed a full Mega Gluttony Night unless there’s at least some dessert. Enter funnel cake.
My friends and I, who are all 25, were discussing the last time any of us sampled some funnel cake. I estimated it was within the last two years, imagining that I must’ve had a random piece by accident along the road somewhere. It’s not like I search out funnel cake, but if there’s one within 100 yards of me, there’s a good chance I’m at least taking a bite. This suggestion got me laughed at, and they were probably right. Well, however long it had been, I dug deep like Kobayashi down the stretch of an eating competition. I could see the finish line through this sea of sugar.
On the ride home, I felt good knowing Mega Gluttony Night was a success. Otherwise, I didn’t feel so hot. Yeah, I probably ate a little too much.
Follow Rich on Twitter: @rich_hofmann
