Well, no. The buckets were full of candy floss.

Within seconds, the referee threw in the ball, and 30 men, conditioned to within an inch of their lives, got cracking. High up in the Canal End of Croke Park, our two young friends began grazing on their candy floss. The day's outing had truly begun. It was time to eat.

For a moment there last Sunday, I found myself transported back to an occasion 15 years ago when I attended an American football game in Foxborough, Massachusetts. Croke Park is now a much better auditorium than the one in the USA at which I had gaped in awe back then.

And just as Croker's architecture seems to have borrowed the best from America, many patrons now look stateside for inspiration in the pursuit of happiness. They no longer go to the match, but attend the ball game. It's not a day out, but an experience.

And central to the whole affair is the business of leisure eating, or grazing.

One of the biggest food counters in Croker is for the sale of hot dogs, which along with Uncle Sam and Mom's apple pie is as American as you can get. Who let the dog into this country? What has become of the poor hang sandwich?

The hot dog isn't substantial enough to substitute for a meal, as the trusty burger and chips might be. But it is the dog's bollocks when it comes to grazing, eating for the sake of it, because the food is there.

It is ideal for those moments on a day out when there is suddenly a void, of action, of conversation, of excitement. It provides for patrons to swipe an index finger through the air, and proclaim as if unravelling a riddle: "Let's eat."

When not feasting on hot dogs, we indulge in other great American grazing staples, like candy floss and popcorn. And just to show that we are not stingy, this food is doled out in buckets rather than packets.

Observe the supersize portions of popcorn now dispensed at cinemas, as if each patron must enter the darkened screen room with enough provisions to last a week. Sweets cannot be purchased in cinemas in the standard packets available in convenience shops. Only grazing sizes are available and washing it all down requires a pint or two of fizzy drinks.

So it went with the two kids on Sunday. There they were, observing their heroes, whose pursuit of excellence requires the calibrating of every calorie intake, and their fans horsing into buckets of candy floss as if food shortages were about to sweep the land.

To be fair to America, at least their supersize portions and grazing rights can be attributed to historical baggage.

Immigrants arriving from poor countries in the land of plenty grew accustomed to large helpings, as if they were in fear that it might all end tomorrow.

No such excuses here in the early 21st century. Ireland has quickly transformed into a consumer society, but we are supposed to be educated about basic health, particularly when it comes to children.

It may well be that parents are indulging or tolerating this kind of thing to assuage guilt over work related absence from the home.

Last week, it was revealed that school uniforms are now available and being purchased in adult sizes. A binliner of popcorn goes to the first reader who can spot the connection.

Meanwhile, at the game's end last Sunday, I lingered in the afterglow. Leaving, I noticed that the hotdog counter was still doing business.

I purchased and wolfed down a celebratory dog. Then I jogged all the way home in order to be properly conditioned to throw stones from my vantage in the glasshouse.