After climbing down from the press box on a maze of unsecured aluminum ladders, Rock approached a concession stand a hundred or more feet below the stadium's upper reaches. It was unlike any he had theretofore seen, with only two items listed on a chalkboard menu.
This concession stand served steaks and frog legs and nothing else. From Rock's perspective, the steaks looked perfect. They were each huge three-inch thick Porterhouses. There were a dozen or more of them spread on platters behind the clerk who approached Rock. Each of the slabs were textbook medium rare, and Rock figured they weighed at least three pounds each.
The steaks looked wonderful, but Rock wasn't particularly hungry, and he couldn't imagine how much a three-pound steak would cost at typical concession-stand rates, so he went with the frog legs. They were indeed cheap, but whereas the steaks were perfect, the frog legs had the bland, tasteless appearance of processed fried food. Rock wished he had dug deep.
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