Good riddance.

The concept was doomed from the start, and not just because of the gastrointestinal implications. What the Giants marketed as a bold, fun value play turned out to be the kind of deal that only looks good in a press release. The hot dogs? Mini. The beers? Smaller pours. The price? $54.99 before tax and tip. As one Bay Area resident put it: "More like 1-3-9 — 1 beer, 3 hot dogs, and 9 innings to contemplate why you gave them $55 for a beer and 3 hot dogs."

They're not wrong. When you do the math, and we always do the math, a tallboy at Oracle Park runs about $20. That makes the nine tiny wieners roughly $35 worth of miniature meat. Not exactly the populist pricing revolution fans were hoping for.

This is a team that already charges families $240 just for "cheap" seats before anyone takes a single bite of overpriced cotton candy. One local fan noted that a family of four can easily clear $400 just trying to give their kids a normal game day experience. At those prices, you'd think ownership would be bending over backwards to create genuine value — not gimmicks dressed up as generosity.

The 9-9-9 challenge wasn't a deal. It was a marketing stunt that treated fans like marks, banking on the assumption that nobody would notice the shrinkflation baked into the premise. Fans noticed.

Here's the real issue: professional sports venues have become extraction machines, and Oracle Park is no exception. When a family outing to a baseball game costs more than a weekend getaway, something is fundamentally broken in the value proposition. The Giants don't need clever promotions. They need honest pricing.

The 9-9-9 is dead. The $25 beers, unfortunately, are still very much alive.