COMPETITION ENVY

It happens every summer. The weather turns warm, hot even at times; the barbecue gets cleaned in preparation, and Independence Day arrives. Families and friends gather around the pool, in the park, or at the resort. The fireworks commence as the sun disappears, and all is well in River City. But in recent years another 4th of July tradition has blossomed for all to enjoy: The annual Nathan's Hot Dog Eating Contest at Coney Island in Brooklyn. Until the advent of ESPN and a dearth of games or matches available to televise, the "Contest" was somewhat provincial. Enthusiastic local crowds observed the proceedings, but let's face it, this is an event tailor-made for the gazillions of television viewers panting with curiosity. The rules for the NHDEC are fairly simple. Whoever snarfs down the most hot dogs (and buns) in 10 minutes is the winner. No upchucking allowed. This year's battle was reduced from the usual 12-minute competition after research discovered the original event in 1916 to have been 10 minutes in duration. I guess tradition speaks volumes.

The Entertainment and Sports Network takes its production duties seriously. Anchor Paul Page, color commentator Richard Shea, and "sideline" reporter Jimmy Dykes comprise the on-air talent. All three have impeccable credentials for this assignment. Page hosted ABC's coverage of of the Indianapolis 500 from 1988-2004 before being unceremoniously demoted. This is his comeback event. Shea is the co-founder of the International Federation of Competitive Eaters (IFCE for you acronym lovers), who better to discuss these gluttons. Dykes both played and coached college basketball and does commentary for the network's hoop presentations. Who could possibly understand more about 'athletic' effort and determination than Jimmy. The hour-long broadcast was smooth and professional, but one fact remains more than impressive. Page, Shea, and Dykes completed the entire production without so much as a giggle. That's what I call professionalism. Keeping a straight face for one hour throughout this pigfest borders on the amazing. On to the competitors.

Although 20 competitors "qualified for the NHDEC (I'm sorry, acronyms excite me), the true race to the stomach involved two magic names in nibbling annals: six-time former champion Takeru Kobayashi, and defending titleist Joey Chestnut from right here in San Jose. The former is a world-wide consumptive legend and the acknowledged emperor of eating until his close loss to Chestnut a year ago. Joey shattered Kobayashi's world record in that match with 66 gut plugs in the 12-minute allotment. But he is nothing if not versatile, holding numerous records such as wolfing on separate occasions 118 jalapeno peppers, 47 grilled cheese sammies, 241 chcken wings in Wing Bowl XVI this past February, and 103 Krystal hamburgers (in 8 minutes). I don't detect a weakness here. As the number one-ranked feedbag fanatic, Chestnut holds the coveted Mustard Yellow Championship Belt.

I won't dwell on the often hilarious 60-minute program that included a running tally window in the upper left corner of the screen, and countless shots of the contestants ramming bun, dog, and water through the old pie hole. No such thing as table manners on this show. But it could not have been better choreographed. As they counted off the final seconds, champion and challenger swallowed furiously finishing in an absolute dead heat with 59 of those all-beef beauties in the waist container. the regulation battle was referred to as a "chow-down" and the subsequent fastest-to-five dog overtime's official moniker was 'eat-off." Chestnut prevailed by mere seconds. When asked to comment, this was his reply: "He wanted it, but I needed it...It was crazy. I'm just a normal guy eating hot dogs on the Fourth. You can't overcomplicate it." No Joey, you can't. How nutritional was this stomach stretcher? Dr. Marc Siegel, a professor at NYU's School of Medicine related the truth when referring to the main course, "One is bad for you, five's worse and 50 is terrible. Ya think?

But what about the common citizen? How would I, for instance, measure up? Two nights ago I splurged for din-din and inhaled not one, but TWO 97% fat-free Hebrew National all-beef dogies. I even put a little cheese on them, slurped down a tureen of tomato soup, and glugged a ginger ale for good measure. I thought about Chestnut's record, but even with my considerable storage basket I could only dream of reaching the Big Leagues. There was a time in the halcyon days of my youth when I ate a dozen chocolate-covered doughnuts at a single sitting, and on another occasion four pounds of steamed clams, complete with rice, veggies, salad, and bread. But that was long ago and far away. The true giants of the sport are far more committed to epicurean overload.

I do like to compare eras though. Last January one of my boyhood (or at least early malehood) idols passed on. Eddie "Bozo" Miller lived to the ripe old age of 89 after an unbeaten (and seldom threatened) competitive career that spanned 50 years from 1931 to 1981 (Guinness Book of Records). At his peak Bozo was 5'7" tall and tipped the scales at a biscuit over 300 lbs. He was equally adept with a knife and fork or a glass. He once ate 27 two-pound chickens and washed them down with two bottles of whiskey in ONE hour. The "compact" Bozo liked pasta so much he vacuumed up 324 raviolis in 1963. He enjoyed baseball games, especially extra inning tilts, because he could eat more hot dogs. But his greatest achievement (in my admiring eyes) was the night he walked into a San Francisco waterfront restaurant (Tarantino's I believe), The waiter brought him a menu and took out his pencil and pad for the order. His 25,000 calorie per day training regimen prompted Bozo to scan the menu, put it down, and tell the waiter, "Looks good, I think I'll take it." He proceeded to eat the entire menu. It's hard to imagine, but the causes of his death were reportedly complications from heart disease and diabetes. Say it ain't so, Bozo.

I think the next step is to create one of those computer programs to match the old with the new. Joey versus Bozo, a gastronomic battle for the ages.

May I be excused from the table?

MM