O P I N I O N
NOT THAT PROFOUND
By Nathan Graziano
My daughter recently shared with me a series of articles about the notorious “Death Zone” near the summit of Mount Everest.
Apparently, there are more than 200 frozen human corpses in this area, where the climbers succumbed to the elements on their quest to conquer one of the highest peaks on Planet Earth.
I mention the frozen bodies not to be macabre, rather to demonstrate the lengths that human beings will go to achieve the incumbent glory that accompanies feats that are seemingly insurmountable, feats that push the limits of human endurance and summon mankind’s spirit in the inexorable quest for worldly excellence.
On Thursday, at Delta Dental Stadium, Dr. Kyle Heavey, a local comedian and the host of 95.3 FM WMNH’s Sunday sports program “Off the Mark,” and I embarked on a quest to conquer our own Everest.
This evening, following a morning and an afternoon of rain showers, Dr. Heavey and I were attempting the 9-9-9 Challenge. For those unfamiliar, the rules are simple—although somewhat convoluted, depending on the source—basically stating that each contestant must finish nine beers and nine hot dogs in the course of a nine-inning baseball game.
Dr. Heavey and I began teasing the idea of attempting the feat when I appeared as a guest on his radio show in 2025 when we were discussing a piece I wrote about walk-up songs.
Now, on the thirtieth day of April, in the year of Our Lord twenty thousand twenty-six, we were finally ready to back up the banter and see whether we would reach the summit of Mount Everest or perish in the Death Zone, somewhere around “The Seventh Inning Stretch.”
The sky was gray, and the sea was angry that day, my friends. I spotted Dr. Heavey, who was donning a hot dog costume, as he was walking down 1 Line Drive on his way to meet me and my daughter—who attended as a spectator—in front of the stadium.
“Good day, sir. You’re seeming fit,” I said, greeting him with a firm handshake and a pat on the shoulder.
“Fit as a fiddle, my good man,” he said.
The three of us then headed to the Sam Adams Bar for The Hot Dog Happy Hour where we were served by Charmaine, the lovely bartender, and we informed her of our quest. Charmaine lauded our bravery—or stupidity—and as the clock to the first pitch counted down, we left for our front row seats.
You see, back at the end of last season, Dr. Heavey entered a contest after a Fisher Cats’ game where you purchase tennis balls and hoist them onto the field, where bull’s eye mats are lying on the infield diamond, and the closest ball to the bull’s eye wins a prize.
Exquisite in his accuracy, Dr. Heavey won tickets to “Dinner on Deck,” where fans can sit at tables next to the Fisher Cats’ dugout, which includes all-you-can-eat-and-drink service during the game. We decided to use this opportunity to attempt the challenge.
Our waitress was named Sue, and she was another salt-of-the-earth traveler on our quest. We informed Sue of the rules to 9-9-9 Challenge and promised her we would stop if either of us felt sick, and she certainly reserved the right to refuse to serve us if we became unruly; however, we were not driving and drinking light beer, and the hot dogs absorbed just about every ounce of the alcohol anyway.
The first inning came and went quickly, even after a lead-off home run by the Fisher Cat’s second baseman Adrian Pinto, and we consumed our hot dog and beer with little difficulty.
However, I was immediately daunted by the hot dog’s girth1. It was much thicker and meatier than I had anticipated2. I knew the beer wouldn’t be a problem, but the hot dogs were going to be “a challenge.”
Innings passed in a flash as Sue continued to appear at our table with a cold aluminum longneck can of Bud Light and a steamed dog wrapped in foil for each of us. By the fourth inning, her presence turned spectral for me, like the grim reaper holding a hot dog instead of a scythe.
Sadly, my friends, your dutiful correspondent tapped out of the challenge in the sixth inning, unable to stomach any more hot dogs. I lay still in The Death Zone beside the dugout.
The undaunted Dr. Heavey, however, kept competing. The Roy Hobbs of Hot Dogs, Dr. Heavey kept coming back to the game he loved. In the final inning, with the Fisher Cats trailing 6-2, Sue brought Dr. Heavey his final hot dog.
“I’m going to try it,” he said, holding up the hot dog.
“Do or do not, there is no try,” I said.
And then, in the bottom of the ninth inning, the stadium lights were cut, save a single straight beam high in the city sky, illuminating Dr. Kyle Heavey’s final bite of his ninth hot dog, thus completing the 9-9-9 Challenge.
All of Manchester rose in applause that night as we were reminded of mankind’s capacity for greatness and, later that evening and for the entirety of the next day, flatulence.
You can reach Nate Graziano at ngrazio5@yahoo.com