Trials and Tribulations of the Tenderoni Weblog

“Oh, I thought it was the trash!”

Who Wants a Hotlink Sandwich?

Posted by itiwtt on August 23, 2007

A minute on the lips, a lifetime on the hips. Don’t do it! 

Black people never fail me. Here’s why:

On my usual route home I pass a recreational park that plays host to various little league events. In the early spring there’s baseball—white kids and a few blacks. Summer usually consists of soccer—hispanic and/or white kids and few of everybody else. Then there’s football in late summer, early fall—apparently nothing but black folks. Since I just recently moved into the neighborhood last November, this was my first experience with the football crowds, aka the black folks.

While en route yesterday, miles away from the park, I could smell the scent of brisket. “What the hell! Who’s having a cook-out on a Tuesday?” That was all I thought of it at first. Then I passed the park and almost lost my freakin’ mind. Just to give you a little background, the usual park events I’ve witnessed have consisted of:

  • A few parents-I would say 5 cars max…most kids get dropped off.
  • The kids who participate in the sports-12 kids max.
  • The coach and perhaps he might bring his son along.  

RANDOMNESS–Why is there always that coach who brings his kid whose sole purpose is to be in the damn way. He usually gets tired of playing with whatever toy he brought with him and then commences to getting in the way even though he knows his ass is too little to play or he just lacks talent. Most of the time he’s only there until his momma comes to pick his bad ass up. Then the coach has to stop and talk to his wife about what the hell ever is going on in their lives’. Meanwhile, the kids on the team have lost focus, due to the coach’s slight delay in practice, and ultimately end up fighting or participating in some other rowdiness. Okay, I’ll stop. Anyway—1 car for the coach.

This is not how it works for the black folks. Not only had momma and daddy shown up for the game, but apparently granny, Uncle Reggie, Cousin Ray-Ray, and the rest of the gang decided to come too. So that makes 3-5 cars for each kid. That could range anywhere from 80-90 cars. SIDE NOTE: If you really want to get technical and do the math, then go ahead. Otherwise, just go with my slightly exaggerated answer. Anyway, so you know how we (black folks) do it, we park our cars on the grass. To make matters worse, somebody’s daddy had set-up an industrial-sized grill (hence the brisket smell), and I swear I saw somebody walk off with a hotlink basket. The hotlink baskets probably brought in even more people. I could just imagine one of the kid’s daddies on the phone, “Yeah man. Come up to the park. Dante’s coach got some hotlinks going to raise money for the kids’ new uniforms.”

In closing, I would like to further express the fact that the media does a crappy job of illustrating positive reflections of black families. Those little boys had support not only from their families, but from the entire community. Of course, we never see stuff like that on tv. Then again, would you want to hear anything about a Hotlink Basket Fundraiser on the local news?


Should I feel bad because I secretly wanted to stop and get a quick hotlink sandwich? I’m really not interested in supporting the kids, but I was just a tad bit hungry. Better yet, should I feel bad because I wanted to stop just because I saw a group full of black folks and wanted to be nosy?

“Listen, I know what I like, and I know you know what I like, because you were trained to know what I like, but I would like to know, what do you like?”   ~PrinceAkeem



I love the fact that Black people can make anything an event—a football game, a kid’s 1st birthday party, the car wash. Wherever there’s concrete and/or grass, Black folks will kick it. You did leave out one of my favorite elements of the Pee-wee football experience—the mini ghetto cheerleaders with their little uniforms on and big bows in their hair.  You think, “Awww, they are soooo cute,” until they start their first cheer. 

“Bang Bang choo choo train, come on girls let’s do our thang,” and they commence to bootyshaking and dropping it like it’s hot. GASP! You then  have the mama/cheerleading coach who’s never been a valid cheerleader on the front row pumping them up screaming, “Go head girls! Get it baby!”  Got them babies out there looking like they trying to make a little change. 



NOT JUST YET LADIES. Sorry for delay, but I unfortunately don’t have the privilege to sit at work and “WORK,” if you know what I mean. Now this comes close to my heart because I do live in a place where there are not a lot of us. In fact, we only make up 2%. Damn.  Anyway, I am from a family who celebrates any and everything with a barbeque… you name it, we barbeque. In fact, we have family reunion meetings every two weeks in which there is always a barbeque/potluck, FOOD.

Now the fact that someone, most likely the father or uncle of one the players, brought THE PIT does not surprise me one bit. However I love blk folks. 🙂  The best way for us to raise money for some uniforms that say THE COWBOYS #88 Lil Mike always consist of selling a hot link sandwich. Tyra you shoulda’ stopped to see if they were Earl Campbells. You know he was a Cowboy!  



One Response to “Who Wants a Hotlink Sandwich?”

  1. KJ said

    ok. not only do ya’ll have way too much time on your hands but you are also very creative with these crazy blogs. however, they keep me laughing and help me get through my day.

    as for my comment on this blog…you know blk folk will congregate around food not matter what the event is. i’m not even gonna lie…i’ve gotten some food at random places like that a time or 2 in my life!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: