It's a Proud Day as Massholes are Rebelling Against the Garbage Excuse for Ketchup Being Served at Fenway

Rick Friedman. Getty Images.

I pledge to you from the outset there will be no clouds being yelled at in this blog. Show me someone who comes away from any public gathering complaining about how much it costs to eat or drink there or how lousy the concessions are, and I'll show you someone who hasn't bought a ticket to anything in the last 30 years. The ship sailed on the "You can't take a family to a [whatever] anymore" a generation ago. And what have we seen throughout the 2000s as a result? Record attendance at sportsball games. Stadium concerts selling out in a span of minutes. And everyone as far as the eye can see with their lips around a cup or something edible that couldn't be legally be called "food" in several European countries. No one's dying of thirst or starvation.

Once in a while I'll proudly escort my very cultured Irish Rose to a game, and when she experiences sticker shock at the concession stand, I lovingly and gently remind her what they charge for a small plastic cup of Pinot Grigio at the musical theaters she goes to and performs at. After all, there's only one Augusta National:

And it's not getting by on the markup from Pimento Cheese on wheat. 

Going into a ballpark, stadium or arena requires the same suspension of belief as when you walk into a casino. The only way to have any fun is to forget what things are worth. There should be signs above the turnstyles that read, "Abandon All Sense of the Value of Money, Ye Who Enter Here." 

And to a lesser extent, the same goes for the quality of everything as well. The first sporting event food that ever passed my lips was the hot dog my brother bought for me at the old Schaefer Stadium, for Saints at Patriots when I was a kid. Even young, fat me whose idea of nutrition was half a box of Frosted Flakes understood that what I was eating was trash. And a lifetime of eating such things has never convinced me otherwise. Even though the food at every venue is a hundred times better than it was when say, the Sullivans owned the Pats and the Yawkeys owned the Sox, you don't go in expecting Escoffier. Hand somebody that exact same Fenway Frank at your cookout, and he's going to spit it into your dog's dish. But when I was there on Opening Day, it was worth the seven bucks, no complaints. 

But even this gracious, magnanimous, conciliatory attitude has it's limits. We'll put up with a lot, but Massholes are, by our nature, a rebellious bunch. You can only push us too far before we'll rise up. In case you don't know our history, they make movies and musicals (where small plastic cups of Pinot Grigio cost double figures) about us pushing back against authority. As that creepy, evil despot John Henry is finding out.

We're only six home games into the season, and already he's got a revolution on his hands. One of his own making:

Source - Red Sox season is back in full swing at Fenway Park and so is the condiment controversy. 

Fenway fans have been saying the ketchup available for the Fenway Franks has been tasting a bit off. Some fans have taken to the internet to complain about the taste, saying it's not sweet enough and looks more like salsa than ketchup. 

"I saw there was a bin over there that said no sugar, they're serving no sugar ketchup in the park," one Fenway goer said.

Since the Red Sox signed a three-year contract with True Made Foods in November 2020, Fenway has been serving gluten-free ketchup that is only sweetened with real fruits and vegetables. There are no artificial sweeteners or added sugars in their products. 

Why thank you, Red Sox. We appreciate you looking out for us, True Made Foods. Of course we all go to the game expecting the healthiest options possible. Which is why we order a bun made out of processed flour-like substances filled with snouts, sow nipples, entrails, and a legally-allowed percentage of rat droppings jammed into a casing and pumped with food dyes. But hey, as least the ketchup isn't tainted with ketchup. Why, that lack of gluten and artificial sweetners may make it taste like a packet of the thin-gruel salsa you get at a Sonic drive-thru. But think of the health benefits! Watch out, world class distance runners! Those people going to the weekend series against the Angels next weekend will hopping into Monday's race at Hopkinton and you'll be eating their farts all the way to the finish line! 

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These people have put up with a lot. Losing Mookie Betts. Losing Andrew Benintendi. Losing 84 games, then Xander Bogaerts. While John Henry continues to buy up other franchises and own a yacht worth more than the Boston College campus. But they draw the line at being served water that once had some tomatoes floating in it and being told it's ketchup:

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So congrats to John Henry, his franchise, and its concessionaires. They've really stepped in it this time. They pushed a demoralized people too far, and are feeling the wrath. History is repeating itself. And just like 250 years ago when a cruel tyrant abused his subjects, this is leading to war.  The peasants at Fenway are revolting. They're just not as revolting as the so-called "ketchup":