Hot Dogs and Lager - Premium Blog - Established 1978

I’m getting fat. That’s a factual statement… not a hyper-sensitive, metro-sexual complaint. If I didn’t spend half my life in gyms and weight rooms, this probably wouldn’t bother me so much. But, alas, it does. Recently, with Spring here and vacation plans looming, I’ve attempted to make the move to light beer in an attempt to prepare myself for a bathing suit… here’s what I’ve found:

1. Light beer blows…
2. I’m not really losing any weight… and…
3. It’s not worth sacrificing flavor and my dignity for a few calories.

All that said… I put together my *list* of light beers. As you’ll see… I fell off the wagon pretty quickly and more or less broke the calorie rules with all of these.

Yuengling Light: not bad. Tasted like Yuengling’s wussy little brother. You know the little brother I’m talking about. The guy that kind of looks like his older brother… only he’s less attractive and really needs to hit the gym a couple times a week so he can put on a few pounds. In the end though, he never gets laid… and the girls he dates tend to always be a little on the “robust” side.

Amstel Light: I do like Amstel quite a bit. I always felt that their tag line “the beer drinker’s light beer” was dead on. I find myself drinking it when other people are downing glasses of wine among the socially elite at business events.

Stella Artois: Okay… so it’s not *technically* a light beer. But it’s 135 calories and in my book… if it’s a gold hue, and I can see through it, it’s a light beer. Bottom line, I love Stella. Much like Amstel Light, I usually pair it with people in black cocktail attire.

Kenzinger: Definitely NOT a light beer… it’s technically a lager. But again, it sports a golden hue and a translucent quality. Not that it matters really… b/c this guy is not a fan. I have been told by several friends that the ‘Zinger is their go-to… they must be hard of taste or something… b/c no thank you!

So bottom line… like I said… I’m off the wagon. Back to hearty Pilsners and hoppy spring lagers.

As the Phillies limped their way from Arizona to San Francisco last night it dawned on me… West Coast road trips blow! I mean, I’ll find a way to watch the Phillies in a Vietnamese death camp with bamboo reeds sticking out of my fingers… but it doesn’t make the experience pleasant. Never mind who wins or loses… the God damned game doesn’t start until 10:15… who the hell is watching that? I mean, I know it’s more convenient for West Coast viewership… but you completely lose half your audience that way… and how does that help anyone? I’d love to believe that there are Phillies fans from coast to coast… but let’s face it… there aren’t that many. I believe Red Sox Nation has the “I love baseball and I wished I lived on the East Coast so I could be part of a more exciting fan base” constituency all wrapped up. Lame.

Further, the players always look so spent. By the time I nod off - usually around the 4th or 5th inning - I swear, they are all yawning more than I am. I mean, is it a stretch to ask West Coast networks to start games at 5pm or 6pm when an East Coast team is in town? …or, God forbid, play 3pm day games? I realize this would not accommodate advertisers… but it sure would make fans happier. Well… East Coast fans anyhow.

And for all of those cynics who might say that this a “purely East Coast - ist” view of baseball morals and standards, I say look at the Cubs. They didn’t even play night games until the late 80’s. Hell, I remember when it was a big deal that they were adding lights to Wrigley. I was like 10… and WGN had this big promotion going all Spring promoting it. (side note: I was born in Colorado in ‘78… we didn’t have a Major League baseball team at the time… so I rooted for the Cubs and - *gasp* - the Braves since they both had nationally accessible stations and games. My family moved to Philly in ‘89… I became a Phillies fan in ‘93… I liked Mitch Williams… until of course Joe Carter took him deep and broke my heart.)

Recently, the Phillies have had a few 3pm starts. It’s been great. I listen to the game from desk… and I manage to catch the last couple innings after work. All in all, a win / win! And if they started games at 3pm on the West Coast, then we get a 7pm, normally scheduled start… and everyone wins. I will be submitting my proposal to Selig this week.

This was my first year going down to Clearwater for Spring Training. The stadium was packed, my kid was sick and I forgot to bring my camera to the ballpark… twice. So all those memorable moments watching the game with my dad… they were left in a hotel room 10 minutes from the ballpark.

But all in all, the “game experience” was pretty sweet. There is something incredibly intimate about Minor League ballparks. They generally seat less than 10,000 people… and foul balls hit cars. Frequently. By the 5th inning, your favorite players are already hitting the showers, and guys with names you’ve never heard of hit the field wearing numbers that look more like basketball scores.

The thing that really caught my attention though was how freaking cold it was! I mean… I know it’s March… but 60° in Florida is unacceptable. I mean, the team could have stayed in Philly, I could have saved a few bucks on room and travel, and - as I discovered upon my return - the weather would have actually been nicer. Not that that’s any great insight on how well the team is going to do this season… but when you’re freezing your ass off in what some Floridians might consider sub-arctic temperatures, it’s virtually impossible to enjoy the game.

So that was the first night… we left early… and the Phils lost.

Our second game was met with equally interesting weather conditions. While the temperature soared to 67°, a typhoon burst came in from the Gulf and passed through Clearwater for a solid 3 hours. So our 12pm start turned into a 3pm start. My father and I sat patiently on a bench in front of our hotel for 2 of those 3 hours. We chatted about everything from childhood anicdotes to tricks and tips in fatherhood to the all-important “is James going to be an all-star pitcher… or a rock star”. It was awesome. It reminded me that sometimes baseball has nothing to do with… well… baseball. Sometimes its about the company you keep… not the score of the game. Sometimes. 

I love Saint Patrick’s Day. It’s a terrible excuse for people to throw on the only green thing they own, drink way too much Guinness and end up face down in a pile of emerald trinkets. I’m a little Irish - which basically means nothing - so I take a little pride in rolling out for every March 17th hell raising. Shit… I used to take off from work every year for the festivities. I don’t know… there’s something about knocking back a Guinness at 9am that *feels* Irish… and a little wrong… and yet, so very right. And the fact that you’re usually in bed by dinner time is a Win! Win!

These days I don’t participate so much… because you know, I’m responsible and what-not. I usually get to knock back a single Guinness on my way home from work… and I try to wear something green… which is kind of lame. So as I dipped into the white, foamy head of my single glass of velvety black goodness… I got to thinking… I’ll bet that Saint Patrick could party!

So I hit up Wikipedia to learn more about him. I bounced around the known and supposed facts of his tumultuous life (to be fair, it was the 5th century… I’ll bet life in general was pretty damn “tumultuous”). I came across this quote (completely used out of context):

Across the sea will come Adze-head, crazed in the head,
his cloak with hole for the head, his stick bent in the head.
He will chant impieties from a table in the front of his house;
all his people will answer: “so be it, so be it.”

…and the guy banished snakes. All of them. If you ask me… it sounds like that guy could party!

Then, I started poking around the history and traditions of Saint Patrick’s Day. Evidently, it’s a big deal in Argentina. Who knew? And did you know, there’s an Irish Association of South Korea. Yeah. That’s funny all by itself.

And of course it’s a huge drunk-fest here in the States. We even dye rivers green. I know they say it’s safe, but that can’t be good for the water supply. I wonder why other saint-specific, day-long-drunk-fests haven’t caught on. I mean, the Roman Catholic Calendar of Saints is a mile a long. There is Saint Stan’s Day on April 11. The guy was Polish. We could grill up kielbasa and drink Zywiec. That’s right, Zywiec.