They Discontinued Sprite Ginger Zero Sugar in 2020, And Every Day Since Has Been Pure Hell
Coca-Cola Company, I am coming for your left thumbs.
Sprite Ginger Zero Sugar was the greatest ginger-flavored drink of all time. I will not hear otherwise.
As a Certified Ginger Ale Enjoyer and occasional ultra-carbonated fountain Sprite drinker, the Coca-Cola company’s release of Sprite Ginger was miraculous. Nothing quite cures an upset stomach like a crisp Canada Dry or a McDonald’s Sprite. Between that and all the strawberry banana yogurt I consume, I am the epitome of gut health.
But a combination of the two tummy soothers? All in a nice little can you can crack open and chug? Sign me the hell up.
In late February 2020—mere days before the world spun out into pandemic crises—Coca-Cola dropped Sprite Ginger. With the promise of “the crisp, refreshing cut-through of lemon-lime up front, balanced with a hit of ginger on the back-end,” my now-wife, with her infinite curiosity, picked it up from the grocery store.
This was the beginning of our folie à deux.
Sprite Ginger: The Obsession
Here’s something to note before I regale you with this tale: when I reference Sprite Ginger, I am always—most certainly—referencing the Zero Sugar variant. That was the golden child in our household. There’s a special sort of crispness zero sugar versions of popular soft drinks that makes me reach for the Canada Dry Zero Sugar (formerly Diet Canada Dry) as opposed to its plainer standard. An important specification, to be sure.
As my wife and I were locked down, we spent a rare abundance of time together. At the time, we had lived together for less than a year; we were unwed, and we had recently adopted a dog. Our relationship was not new by any means, but we were still navigating uncharted territory. We had spent our first Christmas at home together, as well as our first Valentine’s Day in close quarters.
And although I was in the habit of cooking dinner and sleeping at her apartment on the weekends, the dynamics had shifted. We consolidated snacks, drinks, and mealtimes. We had the freedom to rifle through the other’s stash, which led to buying things with both our tastes in mind rather than one or the other.
The domination of our refrigerator by ginger ale was a slow process; my tastes had shifted from Diet 7-Up’s delectable lemon-lime tang to the ails-soothing bite of a crisp Canada Dry. In a twisted way, I felt healthier for it. Do not disprove this to me; I’m allowed to dabble in the placebo effect on occasion.
Sprite Ginger felt a bit sinful, in that way. “This probably isn’t as good for me as ginger ale,” I thought to myself before gripping and ripping a second can. The first sip was always slurped with the desperation of a thirst-driven wild horse.
What started as placid enjoyment of the beverage turned to eager-grinned requests of, “Will you get me another can while you’re up?”
Soon, the left side of our refrigerator—typically reserved for my beloved ginger ale—was filled with rows upon rows of Sprite Ginger. The cans, lined neatly like soldiers, greeted the drink-fetcher with a bounty of minimalist design and promise of refreshment.
Every occasion was a Sprite Ginger occasion.
Sprite Ginger on Zoom calls and virtual trainings. Sprite Ginger to accompany daily Animal Crossing check-ins. Sprite Ginger to sip while you binge-watch the show everyone on Facebook is talking about. Sprite Ginger to chase your morning vitamins with. Sprite Ginger with breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Sprite Ginger as a night cap.
Our consumption levels, which I did not track, ranged from two 12-can packs split between us for one week, to four, to whatever our refrigerator could hold and however many we could stack in the corner of the kitchen that didn’t create an active hazard.
And so we continued, just like the new normal, until it came to an abrupt halt.
Discontinuation
Here I am, in December 2020, with photographic proof of my Sprite Ginger Zero Sugar loyalty. I am peacefully unaware that the discontinuation is around the corner.
Nailing down an exact date as to when Sprite Ginger was discontinued is next to impossible; in many territories, the supply remained. The closest official date we have is July 15, 2022, as the official Sprite twitter account confirmed that the drink had been recently discontinued due to a lack of popularity.
But around our parts, Sprite Ginger disappeared in January—less than a year later.
The shelves grew thinner with Sprite Ginger stock week-by-week until it was rendered empty—never to be restocked at our local Walmart again. Hello? Are you kidding me?
“Target has it in stock,” one or perhaps both of us informed each other as we checked our app. We ventured to our nearest Target—an hour out of the way—and scoured the ails. No dice.
“Let’s try Kroger.”
We tried Kroger. We tried the nice Kroger, too. Still nothing.
We scoured every major retailer within a one hundred mile radius for a pack, only to find empty endcaps and vacant stands as Sprite Ginger was phased out.
Desperate, we checked shipping options—not available from Target or Walmart. Okay, fuck Amazon, but does Amazon have it? Yes, but it’s almost double the cost and besides, do we really trust a third party seller on Amazon for foodstuffs? Not particularly. That marked eBay off the list as well.
It was madness-inducing; every time one us would run out, the other would remind her, “Hey, see if they have any Sprite Ginger?” even though we knew the guillotine had been dropped. We were obsessed; we were angry.
Hell, during one trip to the grocery store, we clocked a man wearing a Sprite Ginger shirt. He was likely a Coca-Cola employee who had received official swag instead of a real bonus last year, but we couldn’t hide our envy.
For the next several months, my wife and I would search every beverage-selling establishment—every dollar store and gas station—for at least one can.
And that’s what we were down to: one can in the refrigerator.
A true test of our relationship came down to this one can of Sprite Ginger Zero Sugar: who would have it? It was natural for us to go back and forth, lobbing, “you should have it” at one another until we grew tired of the conversation and resolved to go to bed to try it again tomorrow.
The Sprite Ginger remained in the back of the refrigerator for a month, slowly bricked in by the unceremonious return of Canada Dry. We The Cask of Amontillado’d the poor thing, only realizing our mistake once the notion of the soda going bad crossed our grief-fraught minds.
And so, we cracked it open. The weather had warmed slightly, and sun shone through the living room window as we sat together on the couch, passing it back and forth. Sip for sip, we mourned the loss of such a delicious treat. The world was different—in more ways than one—and it felt profoundly unfair that we were denied this bright spot.
Hadn’t we earned it? Was the reward of trauma the reminder that things can be ripped away without a moment’s notice?
I crushed the empty can with a scornful hand and tossed it in the trash.
We Live In An Unjust World
I am aware that this is a tad dramatic and overwrought for a discontinued soda produced by a billion dollar company. My wife—who suggested this topic—will probably be surprised the threads I’ve chosen to tie. But I try to make meaning with the little eccentricities that appear in daily life, to understand where these raw emotions originate.
Sprite Ginger had a very specific function in our life during a rough period—to bring a little levity and enjoyment through the bullshit—and with its disappearance, its vacancy underpins that general sense of loss we experienced. No one thinks about Sprite Ginger like I think about Sprite Ginger—like how my wife thinks of Sprite Ginger. And the world keeps spinning regardless, unaware.
To this very day, January 2024, I have Sprite Ginger at the top of my grocery list, just in case.
I am still an avid Canada Dry drinker—two 20oz bottles a day alongside a plethora of water. I think I’m savvy; I think I’ve learned the secret trick to combatting the forward march of time and tummy aches. I’m content.
But there, squirming at the back of my taste buds, remains a sense that, “This could be better.”
