The Tale of 'The Old Sailor at a Ballgame with Mustard on His Face'

There were a whole series of fiascoes that nearly befell our sea captain-like hero on his mustard journey.

Jul 12 2018, 2:50pm

Screenshot via Twitter / NBC Sports Chicago

We're now dead center of the hot-dog days of summer. It's not quite the Midsummer Classic, we're busy arguing about potential playoff and wild card match-ups that are still months away, and just about every other sport has come to a grinding halt. Except baseball—and its fans.

During last night's White Sox and Cardinals game in Chicago (hot dog city, mind you), some eagle-eyed camera man spotted a jaunty old fellow who sported not only a black cabbie hat, but an adorable obliviousness to condiments. And thus a saga began.

Note the placement of the man's mustard blob on his face. He wears it like war paint—elegantly nestled in the space between his sea captain's beard. Admire his resilience to what must have been a clear feeling of having a bunch of shit on his face:

The man just kept going. What a laugh. Clearly that whole debacle is over—no way he left something so obvious hanging for that long.


Oh shit. Dude not only left the mustard on, but he appears to be a southpaw—using his phone on his left ear, perilously hovering it over his conspicuously gigantic mustard blob. Completely unawares. Dude remains looking like the hot dog Jackson Pollack.

I know what you're thinking: this is over. Surely the whole reason for the phone call in the first place is that someone had 1) seen their friend or loved one on television and, 2) noticed that their friend or loved one does not generally have a technicolor battle wound on his face.

Au contraire. Behold the climax of Act II:

This is a jig, and it's up at this point. This can't be real. This guy and his lady are in on the whole thing. There's no way his sweetie went in for the smooch and didn't notice the giant stalactite of vinegar and flower seed creeping its way down to his beard.

But then we bear witness to the simple denouement of this Shakespearean comedy. His sweetie comes back to finally point out the obvious:

Her reaction is too fresh for this to have been staged, right? It seems like she affords herself a quick giggle that's way too brief to register the gravity of this drama. Sadly, the mustard stain was wiped away, and we're left wondering if it was a dream the entire time.

Was there a baseball game even going on at all? No worry—just... relish the off-field entertainment.

[Major h/t to @VanHicklestein]