August 9, 2000
One of the cool things I like about going to an Arizona Diamondbacks game at Bank One Ballpark is the opportunity to sample some of the food from other ballparks. At each homestand, the Diamondbacks will bring one menu item from the opponents park. This food item is located at one of the concession stands on each level of the ballpark. It is referred to as the Visiting Team special. It is always interesting to see what if featured for each team during the course of the year. I am not normally adventurous when it comes to food but I have to admit that I have tried the item from each team. There were Dodger Dogs from Los Angeles, pulled pork sandwiches from Atlanta, pretzels from Philadelphia, and grilled chicken on sourdough bread from San Francisco. I eagerly awaited the Montreal series to see what fares would be served from north of the border. As I got to the front of the line, I was met by the smiling face of the concessionaire. “One visiting team special, please” I eagerly asked. My first clue should have been the vanishing smile and the confused look I was given. She retrieved my sandwich handing it to me and taking my money. It looked good and was quite large. As I made my way back to my seat, I noticed that I seemed to be the only one having one of these specials. I began eating and quickly learned that the sandwich was some sort of smoked meat. After finishing the meal, I sat and waited for the game to begin. The longer I sat there, the more queasy I became. Whatever was in this sandwich was not setting well with me. I decided to go back to the concession stand to ask a few questions. I looked at the menu to verify that the Visiting Team special was listed. There it was, Smoked Meat Sandwich. I asked the concession worker if she could tell me something about the special. “Well, it’s a sandwich and it has meat on it. The meat is smoked I think.” That was a little less than helpful so I asked if she could clarify what type of meat it was. She didn’t know but she would ask. She went into the back where she stayed for what seemed like 10 minutes. When she returned, she had additional information, “It’s smoked meat.” I could see that I wasn’t going to get anywhere with her and thanked her anyway for her help. As I was leaving, the person behind me in line offered his helpful comments, “Maybe it’s Canadian road kill.” I’m not sure I am going to have that menu item tomorrow. But then again, it wasn’t that bad.