A few days prior to Opening Day, a buddy of mine was offered tickets to Citizens Bank Park to watch the Phillies play an all-star team comprised of their top prospects. I joked thinking about how the only way I would go to a game this year is if it was free. It is no secret that the Phillies are likely due for another trying year as the rebuilding process enters full swing in the 2016 season. Still, my interest was piqued with the knowledge it was a free game with front row, outfield seats; so I opted to go, knowing that at worst, I could pick up some of my favorite ballpark foods. Unfortunately, I was sadly mistaken.
That day, I opted for a barbecue place known as Bull’s Barbecue. It’s located in the outfield and offers some pretty excellent barbecue options, including platters. My buddy on the other hand had a hankering for something a little more mythical: The Schmitter. For those of you who don’t know, it is a magnificent sandwich. It features grilled salami, steak, three slices of cheese, tomato, grilled onions, and special sauce all held together within a soft, fluffy Kaiser roll. This epicurean concoction always had lengthy lines outside of its stand in left field. It was not uncommon to wait through half or even a full inning for this wonderful masterpiece. On that day, however, we would find no line.
The first sign of trouble came as we crossed behind center field. We passed a group of fans that talked with a volume like that of people who had been tailgating for hours. One of the gentlemen yelled at his friends, “How could they get rid of it?? Fuck it. I’m getting Tony Luke’s.” I asked my buddy if they could have been talking about our beloved Schmitter. He was less concerned than I was. As we approached the stand though, we discovered a dearth of hungry patrons. The stand from which we had grown accustomed to purchasing our sandwich featured no beer behind the glass, no workers feverishly grilling meats, and no satisfied customers with grins on their faces.
We were astonished. We immediately sought out another stand that had sold our beloved sandwich years ago, but to no avail. The Schmitter had abandoned us; we were left with no warning. In its wake, remained a sign on the stand for Wahoo’s, which I have discovered is a fish taco restaurant in Philadelphia. Never before had I been so upset with future pescatarians.
There we were, in a ballpark 75% empty, watching our team struggle to beat its own minor leaguers, and now had no Schmitter to ease our distress at the upcoming 162 games. Our friends were equally as upset. Sure, there will be summer nights spent at the ballpark after a few beers in the parking lot. And there may even be cheers as the Phillies scrape a win or two out of what could be a bleak season. But there are sure to be many laments about our favorite sandwich and our desire to taste that remarkable blend of heart-stopping ingredients again. We will miss you, Schmitter.
