Houston Chronicle Ken Hoffman column: In the belly of the feast

Jul 08, 2008 (Houston Chronicle - McClatchy-Tribune Information Services via COMTEX) -- NATH | Quote | Chart | News | PowerRating -- There's a ton more fun to the July 4th Nathan's Famous Hot Dog Eating Contest than you see on ESPN.

Like Kobayashi puking ... through his nose ... after losing the first-ever, sudden death, five-frankfurter eat-off to decide the championship last week.

I was a judge at this year's hot-dog-eating contest, the crown jewel of the International Federation of Competitive Eating circuit. I was standing in the spray zone, directly in front of the eaters table, when Kobayashi suffered his "reversal of fortune." I didn't get hit. Kobayashi ducked down behind the table when it happened. He's classy that way.

Plus, if I got one chunk on me, I'd still be in the shower pouring Clorox on myself.

This was my fourth visit to the July 4th contest, but my first as an official judge. Thirty thousand people crammed the corner of Surf and Stillwell in Coney Island, the once majestic but now dilapidated beach town at the tippy end of Brooklyn. ESPN cameras pick up the action at noon each year.

The fun starts at 10 a.m. when George Shea, a real-life marketing genius, turns into carnival barker with the simple accouterment of a straw hat. He welcomed the crowd to Coney Island and introduced a poor shnook in a frankfurter costume, a dwarf dressed as Uncle Sam, the Bunnettes cheerleaders and performers who wouldn't hack the first freak week of American Idol.

Last year, cloggers. This year, a trampoline act.

If P.T. Barnum came back to life, he would take one look at Shea and say, "You might want to tone it down."

Shea even performed a wedding onstage this year. He said he was qualified to perform the ceremony because he was recently ordained a minister by an online church. Ten bucks to become a Man of God.

"And by the powers vested in me by the Universal Life Church ... dot com, I now pronounce you man and wife."

The bride -- and groom, for that matter -- wore shorts, T-shirts, fanny packs and flip-flops.

As he danced with the bride's sister, Shea, caught up in the moment, gushed, "This is just like Las Vegas, except much, much worse."

The judges' meeting was at 11 a.m. Each judge was assigned one of the eaters. I got Juris Shibayama, an orthopedic spine surgeon and professional bodybuilder from Tennessee. He goes by the name Dr. Big Time. He is the No. 17th-ranked competitive eater in the world. I met him last March at Kenny and Ziggy's deli when he came in third in the World's Matzoh Ball Eating Contest in Houston.

Because I was a rookie judge, there was no way I was getting defending champion Joey Chestnut or a top challenger such as Kobayashi, Patrick Bertoletti, Eater X (Tim Janus) or the Black Widow (Sonya Thomas).

The judges were handed a score card and told to keep their eyes on the number of hot dogs consumed. No cheating. Competitors are allowed to eat the franks any way they choose. They can dunk the hot dogs and buns in tea or water, they can eat them together or separate the dog and bun, it doesn't matter. Just as long as they git 'er done. I mean git 'er down.

The "10-second Dunk Rule" was in effect. If a competitor dunked his bun in water for more than 10 seconds, the bun would start to disintegrate, and that dog would not count in his total.

Several years ago, the History Channel did a documentary about hot dogs, and Shea said he hoped that competitive eating would one day be an Olympic event. I asked if he still held onto that dream.

"As far as the Olympics, no. As a boy, I thought the Olympics and Dom DeLuise would remain relevant forever. Neither has. However, if the Olympics wanted to gain some publicity by sending their athletes to one of my events, I'd let them," Shea said.

Next week, a video game called Major League Eating: The Game will be released. Ten characters, based on real competitive eaters, will face off in challenges involving 12 foods. Not only will the characters eat, they'll squirt ketchup at each other, there will be spectacularly colorful "reversals of fortune" and, when all hope is lost, you can hit your opponent with some deadly gas.

"Hey, it's my turn to be Joey Chestnut! You were Joey Chestnut last time!"

The real-life Chestnut thinks it's, like, the coolest thing ever to be in a video game. "I just wish I was getting paid for it," he said.

As a judge, I was given an adjustable Nathan's baseball cap with Juris Shibayama's name on the bill ... so I wouldn't forget whose hot dogs I was counting. I got a striped referee's shirt and a VIP badge that said "Judge."

I also got to eat all the free hot dogs and french fries I wanted backstage. I snuck a few free ones out to my friends in the crowd.

At 11:45 p.m., before ESPN hit the air, Shea introduced the eaters with long apocalyptic explanations of how each qualified for the event. One was "born at the edge of the shore, in that eerie space that is neither ocean nor land."

Huh?

He mused what would happen if Kobayashi and the Black Widow conceived a child together. Wow, that kid would really eat. Much like if Neil Diamond and Barbra Streisand had a child, imagine what a singer the child would be. "Sadly, Barbra is beyond her childbearing years," he accepted.

It turns out that "Kobayashi and the Black Widow don't like each other, so it would have to be a test-tube baby, and they probably wouldn't even go for that." Another George Shea dream shot down.

After Shea introduced the contestants, they left the stage and waited for ESPN to come on at noon. Then Shea introduced them all over again, this time with shorter, less end-of-the-world spiels.

As Kobayashi walked across the stage, he paused at the mural listing all the previous champions. He looked for Chestnut's name -- and punched it. Yes, there is a competitive fire that burns in the pit of Kobayashi's stomach.

Or it might just be indigestion.

There were 20 contestants, but it was really a two-man show: the defending champion Chestnut and six-time winner Kobayashi. Even though I was counting Shibayama's hot dogs, I was videotaping Chestnut and Kobayashi's furious assault on processed meat and enriched white bread. I looked like a total tourist with my badge and camera dangling from my neck.

While the contest was going on, my cell phone rang. It was my buddy Sean Pendergast. "I'm watching on TV -- which judge are you?"

I waved my hat, never missing a Shibayama hot dog.

"I can see you!" Sean yelled.

In previous years, the contest was 12 minutes, with Chestnut holding the record of 66 hot dogs and buns. This time, the contest was reduced to 10 minutes. The International Federation of Competitive Eating claims it found a dusty old document saying the first contest in 1918 stipulated a 10-minute time limit.

"We felt we had an obligation to the institution," Shea said. "We live in a time when so many have lost faith in our institutions, like the federal Food and Drug Administration, FEMA and the presidency, that we felt it was our responsibility to maintain true integrity."

Yeah, whatever.

I think the rule change had more to do with ESPN asking for a shorter contest. Or safety reasons. Or something.

Definitely not integrity.

The contest began, and Shibayama separated the hot dogs from their buns and ate them two at a time. At the three-minute mark, he started to eat them one at a time. Nice knowing ya; you have no chance of winning.

Meanwhile, Chestnut ate 10 hot dogs in the first minute. Kobayashi was right with him.

My guy Shibayama limped home with 28 dogs and buns down the hatch. Pretty impressive. I think he finished 14th.

Hold on: Chestnut and Kobayashi finished with 59 hot dogs -- the first-ever tie!

Uh-oh, what to do now? They couldn't come back the next day and do it again, like Tiger Woods and Rocco Mediate at the U.S. Open golf championship.

Shea decided that Chestnut and Kobayashi would have a five-dog eat-off; first to down them all would be the winner.

"In most matches, we use a one-minute overtime to decide ties," Shea said. "However, the speed with which Kobayashi and Chestnut eat would have made it very difficult to judge who had eaten more. I felt it would be more decisive to have a five-hot-dog eat-off."

Chestnut, the master of "chipmunking," where you jam as much food as possible in your mouth and deal with swallowing later, beat Kobayashi to the punch and was presented the Yellow Mustard champions belt and a huge bowling trophy.

Shea ordered the crowd to bow down to the champ.

I must tell you, I heard some grumbling in the crowd that Kobayashi actually ... really ... beat Chestnut in regulation time, and Chestnut was given a favorable judge's ruling to bolster America's pride.

I have a sneaking suspicion that Shea may exploit this controversy next July 4.

ken.hoffman@chron.com

Listen to the Ken Hoffman Show on 1560 "The Game" from noon to 2 p.m. weekdays.

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