There's a story about Dick Allen of the White Sox back in the 70s. Late in the game, the manager turned and looked for him in the dugout because he wanted him to pinch hit. Looked around, and he's not there. He sent a bat boy to the clubhouse to get him and he wasn't there. A search ensued and he was found at a taco stand across the street from the ballpark. He was hustled back just in time to stand in, and he batted with taco sauce dribbling down his uniform.
Several years ago, a couple Seattle Seahawks players were fined for standing next to the stands, eating hot dogs in the middle of the game. I think one of them was Rick Mirer.