Stepping up to the plate at Dodger Stadium to try new food offerings

My assignment was to eat my way across Dodger Stadium. I mean, why not? Other than baseball, I have nothing to live for. Besides, my company life insurance pays more if I perish on the job, which is exactly what can happen when you eat five ballpark lunches in a row.

In the big scheme of things, it’s probably better to be felled by processed pork than some ambush in the Middle East. But the effect can be the same.

My first hit: Lasorda’s Meatball Marinara Cone.

To fully fathom the beauty of the Meatball Marinara Cone, you have to appreciate classic architecture — the interplay of shape and light, color and texture. Sure, it’s merely a big meatball perched on some sort of flat-bread cone. That’s like saying a Bugatti is just another French bombshell.

For me, the meatball cone is love at first bite. By the second bite, I am proposing marriage.

Then, as always happens with infatuation, reality sets in. Boom ... marinara sauce everywhere. How do you eat this thing? After a minute, there is a red puddle on the concrete below me. Fans are asking whether I’m performing some sort of Civil War re-enactment.

Oops, splat! — just missed my shoe.

Honestly, I don’t know how you eat this thing. One more glorious chomp and I reluctantly drop it in the trash.

On to the fried Dodger Dog …

Another one of the season’s new offerings, the fried Dodger Dog, looks and tastes like jerky. After a few bites, I think something inside me might have exploded.

I’ve always considered the basic Dodger Dog to be the Mona Lisa smile of ballpark food: limp, simple and oddly bedazzling. Even Da Vinci knew when to stop.

Meanwhile, someone should be prosecuted for the supermarket-grade sushi they’re selling out there. I like the attempt at greater variety, but this is bland and gritty.

What did I like? Well, I might trade my house for the Beef Brisket ($12) at the barbecue stand in far left field. The same goes for the Roast Beef Dip ($10) at the Dodger Deli on the field level. So big, I tried to give half to a stranger holding a baby.

Why is it fans won’t accept free food from total strangers? Admittedly, no one is stranger than me.

Unless it’s Matt Kemp.

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There is this thing Kemp does, one of those little habits that seems small at first but over time begins to gnaw at your sense of decency and decorum. As he leaves the on-deck circle, he takes a big pink wad of gum out of his mouth and rolls it toward the backstop.

I always think: “No worries, Matty. Someone will get that later … probably some poor stadium worker who makes in two years what you do in a single day. No worries.”

For those who miss Kemp, take solace his spitty gum is still here, souvenirs of the three-day homestand.

Me, I’m glad he’s gone. Now I can fixate on something else for a while, such as the TV blackout everyone keeps griping about.

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I’ve come around on my thinking regarding this TV standoff. All these execs are trying to do is feed their families the best way they know how. If you want to see a baseball game, buy a ticket.

The Dodgers reported they have pre-sold three million tickets for the season, a tribute to what they’re doing out there. It’s really counterintuitive the way this all works: Apparently, the less they televise the Dodgers, the more the fans want to see them in the flesh.

Nope, the worst thing the Dodgers could do right now is show up on television.

During the off-season, I’ve grown wiser and more philosophical. I noticed that every time the mail carrier comes, the dog barks; yet the mail carrier keeps coming back anyway. So I’m done barking.

At some point, the players’ agents are going to start griping about the lack of exposure. Indeed, this whole TV standoff seems to be trickling up. Through mid-July, ESPN’s Sunday night baseball features the Yankees three times and the Angels twice, yet the Dodgers not once.

Clothing companies and agents notice stuff like that. Do I care? I’d rather see a Bette Midler concert than spend five minutes with a sports agent. I’d rather watch “Beaches” 500 times.

Just remember, this blackout is no one’s fault. I’m not even upset with the mayor anymore. What can he do about an intractable corporate standoff?

Well, I suppose he could play hardball and shut off water to the stadium. After all, we seem to be in for quite a drought.

chris.erskine@latimes.com

Twitter: @erskinetimes