Hey John, try selling peanuts to beer-besotted bleacher creatures midway through the second game of a Sunday afternoon doubleheader – my fate one day in August, 1978 (they swept both games from the Tigers, as I recall). INSANE! But it was better than selling ice cream on a cold night in April (I think I made $7 total). And that was better than embarrassingly hawking egg rolls in the bleachers. Yes, egg rolls – as in “Get your egg rolls here-ah! Fresh egg rolls here-ah!” That was one of the worst moments ever witnessed in the House that Ruth Built.