After a recent dinner date with my wife, we ended the
evening the way millions of married couples end a night of food, drink and
kid-free conversation. We went to the
grocery store. Nothing provides a happy
ending to a date more than a stroll up and down the aisle of your favorite
chain supermarket. My cheeks are flush
just thinking about it.
Since this was a date, we spared no expense and went to the
Cadillac of local grocery stores, Wegmans.
There, we gazed lovingly at the wide variety of fresh fruits and
vegetables (“I think vegetables can be very sensuous, don't you?” – Eric
Stratton to Mrs. Marion Wormer, Animal House,
1978). We soaked in the romantic aroma
of overpriced floral arrangements and drowned in the stench of overscented bath
supplies, all while swaying to Muzak versions of The Doors greatest ballads. Ah, old married love, ‘tis smell is sweet.
We wandered into the frozen food aisle, and being a hopeless
romantic, or maybe just hopeless, I suggested we buy some ice cream for the
kids. Besides, we might have a
coupon. Also, a vat of ice cream from
Wegmans is a lot cheaper than a slice of key lime pie at any fancy
restaurant.
Behind the foggy glass doors, between the 5 gallon tubs of
orange sherbet and the 12 pack Dove brand ice cream sandwiches, I spied some
private label treats that I had not seen before. The carton designs and color schemes looked familiar. They had sports team branded ice cream from
Turkey Hill.
They sold Bronx Bomber Sundae and Pinstripe Brownie Blast to
honor the Evil Empire from New York. Blitzburgh Crunch in Steelers Terrible black
and yellow was wedged in between the Phillies Batter Up and the Phillies Graham
Slam half gallons. This was cross
promotional marketing gone wild.
Athletics and ice cream, like sports and competitive eating, shouldn’t
go together.
This was not the biggest problem for me. Out of market sports franchises were being marketed
and sold to Washington
area fans. I was devastated.
The thrill of the date denouement was shriveling. I knew in my head that DC was not a sports
town. The last championship parade was
held here in 1993 (DC United soccer does not count). The Wizards stink. Pro baseball was absent for 37 seasons before
returning by default in 2005. Lord
Stanley’s Cup has not runeth over on the streets of DC since the inception of
the Caps franchise in 1974. In football,
we own Daniel Snyder – enough said.
I understand why the ice cream vendors of America have
disrespected us. It’s pure economics.
Our team jerseys don’t sell, so how could the area fans of local teams
be expected to buy brand specific ice cream?
In my heart, however, I knew this was unfair and frankly,
insulting. The Redskins, while
unwatchable for close to 20 years, still have a loyal fan base (that does not
include me). Couldn’t they have test
marketed some Hogs Heavenly Hash or Redskins Rum Raisin?
Where’s the Nationals Nutter Butter? Or the Nats Nutberry Cream or the Strasburg
Iceberg Smoothie. Zimmerman Triple Play
Neopolitan? The team has the best record
in baseball; least number of runs allowed in baseball; best road record in
baseball…6 ½ game lead in a division that was projected to be a fight between
the Phillies, Marlins, and Braves. The
Nationals have a legitimate chance to…I can’t say it. That could jinx it and I cannot be held
responsible.
Where’s the love, Turkey Hill? Where’s our ice cream? I scream, you scream, now we all need to
scream for our Washington Nationals signature series ICE CREAM!
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