In an effort to prove that my college friends and I were truly the future of this great country - which is what people say when you're in college, for some reason - we decided one time to have an eating contest at IHOP, where I proceeded to dismantle the competition by devouring 16 pancakes (strawberry topping included) in one sitting.

A great country, indeed.

So when I heard that the Oakland A's were holding a similar promotion, where the upper reaches of McAfee Coliseum would be blanketed with all-you-can-eat baseball junkies, I jumped at the chance.

Since the A's play in a massive, concrete-riddled football stadium, they introduced an "All You Can Eat" section at the beginning of the season to help sell some of those seats that nobody in their right mind would buy unless they were supplied an endless amount of food.

You shell out $35 a ticket to watch the hapless A's, sit in the upperest of decks, and proceed to drown your Oakland sorrows in a bottomless pit of hot dogs, nachos, soda, peanuts, popcorn and ice cream sandwiches.

Any of those items. Anytime you want. For free.

Genius!

I attended Sunday's home game when the A's hosted the Cleveland Indians, sat in Section 316 of All You Can Eat Land, and proceeded to not pace myself and not eat in moderation.

I pledged my allegiance, not to anything Athletic or Indian, but to baseball and food. And it was faaaann-tastic.

There was an initial goal coming into the game to make a single trip to the concessions each half-inning, as I tried to give it that old college try like I did at IHOP that one night. While I certainly did not accomplish that goal, I perhaps ate an equal amount of food.

The final tally was five hot dogs, four nachos, a bag of peanuts, six sodas and an ice cream sandwich, which is impressive since "Last Call" is in the seventh inning and the game finished in a swift two hours and 37 minutes.

In my defense, the portions are small, but that's my only defense.

Readers may find this disgusting and the reason why this country has a growing waistline. I just think it's something I'd do anyway if I could afford $8 hot dogs.

Perhaps the highlight of the day came in the fourth inning, when a man adorning an International Federation of Competitive Eating jersey sparked a small "Let's Go Nachos" chant, which was far more exciting than the sleepy 2-1 win Cleveland delivered.

Fans in the section are allowed a max of four items per concession trip, while the food is held to a limited list of the six items mentioned above.

Alcohol is obviously not free, and specialty items like garlic fries are extra as well, which is probably a good thing - the fans would stink more than the A's.

The seats are high up, but they're behind home plate, so they're not all that bad. Although, if you have no affinity for "real" baseball food, where the cheese on the nachos is obviously fake, I suggest shelling out some cash for a lower-level seat and devouring your polish sausage in the "All You Can Buy" sections of the stadium.

It takes a true lover of crappy baseball and crappy food to enjoy these seats, not to mention a stomach of steel.

As I was standing in line during the second inning, two A's fans behind me said this was the best idea Oakland has ever come up with, which is hilarious when you think of the wild things Charlie Finley did in the 1970s, such as paying players to grow mustaches.

Minutes later, as the concession lady handed me yet another hot dog, she told her co-worker that this was worst thing the A's had done. Go figure.

In the end, I enjoyed the seats, and after a couple bypass surgeries, a few more Tae-Bo classes, and perhaps one more workout on my Bowflex, I just may shell out another $35 so I can eat all I can.