Attempting this “challenge” was a real letdown.
Citi Field attempted to capitalize on the popular “999 Challenge,” where baseball enthusiasts consume nine hot dogs and nine beers over nine innings. However, my experience on Opening Day ended up as a letdown typical of many Mets fans’ experiences — lacking in both excitement and beverages.
In the spirit of journalism, I took on this food-focused trial. Yet, the minuscule 2.5-ounce beers and petite hot dogs left me mostly feeling bloated and parched, with only a minimal buzz to show for my efforts.
Initially, I anticipated that this stomach-stretching endeavor might require a dose of Pepto Bismol and possibly a doctor on standby, so I sought advice from Geoffrey Esper, the world’s third-ranked competitive eater.
He recommended skipping breakfast and varying hot dog toppings to avoid “flavor fatigue” and channel my inner Joey Chestnut.
However, after shelling out $60 for the “999 Challenge” tray that included nine 3.5-inch hot dogs and a solitary 24-ounce can of Coors (Heineken was also an option), it became clear that all my preparation was in vain.
The tall boy was meant to be divided into nine barely-there glasses and sipped at a snailâs pace of one 2.5-ounce cup per each of the game’s innings. That’s only about the size of a double shot glass.
Lame.
âNot full glizzies?!â one fellow disappointed fan moaned at the slider-sized franks, using the slang term for hot dog.
âThose hot dogs look so sad,â another said.
The first two mini hot dogs went down easy, and I knocked back my tiny beer in just a couple sips. The little glasses are plastic souvenirs decorated with the Mets logo, which explained the price of the tray.
As I ate wiener after wiener — each served on a cracked and stale bun — I was dying for more to drink.
The booze-to-hot-dog ratio was not a winner. I needed more beer.
But my “cold oneâ had heated up to the temperature of lukewarm tea by the end of the sunny, three-hour affair.
By the third inning, I’d kissed the possibility of a buzz goodbye.
I managed to get the ultra-dry dogs â which didn’t actually taste that bad â down with the help of ketchup and mustard. It only took three bites per dog â but I still got uncomfortably full by the fourth inning.Â
My stomach was protruding, and it got so hot, and my fingers started swelling. I was over it.
The giant tray set up on my lap also made it hard to stand up to cheer as the Mets dominated over the Pirates, ultimately winning 7 to 11.
In the end, I drank all 24 ounces of the beer and managed to choke down 6.5 of the dogs before growing wildly bloated and giving up.
I left feeling hot, tired and grumpy.
Now, I need a real drink.
â Additional reporting by Natalie O’Neill
