“Take me out to the ball game! Take me out with the crowd!” I said with mild amusement outside the Chickasaw Bricktown Ballpark last Friday night.
It was the Oklahoma City Comets' season-opening game, and despite the chilly 50-degree temperature, the amassing crowd was low-key electric, and I was ready for some ballpark food.
As I walked through the gates for the first time in about 10 years, it dawned on me how very little I remembered about my last visit—from the stadium layout to the actual ball field. I'd have to reacquaint myself with America’s pastime the proper way: by eating my way through it.
They gave me a free hat at the gate, but the concessions were not nearly as generous. As I passed the food stalls, I saw bloated prices that nearly sent me fleeing for a hot dog and a Diet Coke from the Casey’s convenience store down the street.
My wife and I took our seats along with my brother-in-law and his daughter—her first ballgame—primed for some pulse-pounding minor league baseball action. Thankfully, the accessible seating section was easy to find and very spacious for my kind.
As the players were warming up on the field, I went exploring around the arena, looking for Albuquerque Isotopes merchandise for my wife, simply for the Simpsons reference that would have made her day.
They had none, frowning emoji.
Regrouping after taking pictures with the mascots—all with appropriately themed names like Astro Dog—my wife and I decided on our pre-game selection of the minor league stadium foodstuffs at our beck and call…
We started off small with the Flashpoint and their souvenir Diet Pepsi ($7.99) in the cool retrofitted official cup of the Comets. There’s really nothing to say about this drink per se, but the girl dispensing the drinks told me they were too carbonated and to come back for another refill.
Was she flirting with me?
Taking the drink to our seats, we decided to try a couple of the ballpark staples.
For her part, my wife went with a stall simply called Nachos that, of course, only had three or four varieties of nachos. She ordered the Super Nachos ($13.00) that had corn tortilla chips layered with chicken, pinto beans, nacho AND shredded cheese, salsa, sour cream, and jalapeños.
Served in a large replica of a Comets helmet, though definitely filling and undeniably tasty, it felt like it was too much—the tortilla chips were weighed down by the toppings, causing floppy chips and clumpy cheese by the third inning.
I needed something more substantial for the game, so I went with Smokie’s Sausage Shack and the Comet’s flagship frankfurter, the Comet Dog ($13.99). It was a full-length foot-long wiener loaded with heartburn-causing ingredients, including pulled pork, grilled onions and peppers, sauerkraut and mustard.
Actually, I liked this dog quite a bit. A hearty Schwab’s foot-long wiener—well, that’s already top tier—but the generous helping of slow-cooked pulled pork and the one-two punch of fried onions and pepper opened a whole new world of ballpark franks.
In other words, it’s a home run!
By the end of the first inning, our meals were mere memories, and the crowd, though sparse, was definitely into the game. My brother-in-law, a real sports fan in general, was pumped up and made me root, root, root for the home team.
As I was rooting, the mascot and the team cheerleaders jumped on top of the dugout and did a choreographed dance to “Timber,” the Pitbull and Kesha joint that despite being stupid was undeniably fun.
By the third inning, I was stuffed by my foot-long and my niece had finished her own child-friendly nachos, but I could see deep in her eyes that she wanted a sweet treat. That’s when, across the way, I spotted Oklahoma’s own most wanted ice cream treat, Dippin’ Dots.
We walked to the stand-alone cart bearing the ice cream of the future, and she got the Cookie Monster ($8.99) variety—served in a pink collectible baseball cup, much like the nachos. And while I gave them a pass, my niece loved the Dots, so I called it a line drive.
By the fifth inning, the night was getting colder and the crowd thinned, shivering toward the parking lot and the comfort of their cars. As much as I wanted to stay, we decided to follow suit, our faces burning in the wind.
The Comets ended up losing that chilly game against the Isotopes, 3 to 1, but I still walked away with a free hat, a refillable Pepsi cup, and the memory of a Comet Dog that somehow lived up to its $14 price.
Maybe this summer I’ll be back, with my collectible Pepsi cup in one hand and a Comet Dog in the other, part of that same community of fans—watching mascots dance on the dugout, kids chasing Dippin’ Dots, and a crowd that, even on a cold night, is still into it.
Play ball, again I say…play ball.
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Follow Louis Fowler on Instagram at @louisfowler78
