Look, I know what I saw. As the accompanying photo shows, something happened at the 10-minute mark of last week’s 91st annual Nathan’s hot-dog-eating contest at Coney Island. On the left is American record-holder Joey Chestnut, pointing at five-time world champion Takeru Kobayashi. On the right is newcomer Patrick Bertoletti, pointing at Kobayashi.
And in the center – that disembodied arm – well, that’s me, pointing at Kobayashi.
A bit of background first: For the past six years, I have served as Kobayashi’s judge and, as such, have had a spittle-and-bun-covered front-row seat to history. Over those six years, I’ve had a chance to watch the greatest athlete in modern history crush all comers. For five of those years, Kobayashi’s closest competitor didn’t even come within a dozen hot dogs and buns (HDBs in competitive eating circles).
I may think Kobayashi is the greatest competitor since Secretariat, but I’m no pushover. In 2001, when this calf-brain-eating champion from Japan burst onto the American scene with his amazing 50 HDB victory, I made him stuff a quarter hot-dog back into his mouth when it fell onto the table. In 2003, I noticed he was dunking his buns into his cup of water more than usual, so I made him slurp up the water-logged carbs. And last year, when a sneeze late in the competition sent a stream of chewed-up hot-dog out his nose, I made him snort it back in.
That he did it without flinching, without questioning, showed what a true champion he is.
Controversy is as inseparable from the competition to be greatest eater in the world as hot dog is from bun. But with 10,000 spectators packing the corner of Surf and Stillwell avenues — and with almost as many camera crews from New York, San Jose and Japan on hand — I knew I had to be at the top of my game.
I watched Kobayashi like a mother cow watching her calf’s brain. He ate his game – not worrying, even when Chestnut jumped out to a two-dog lead. He passed Chestnut for good around the nine-minute mark, but I watched with even greater intensity, knowing that this was the only time Kobayashi had ever been pushed.
And then, the belch.
Yes, Kobayashi burped and, yes, the force of the belch propelled parts of four chewed-up hot dogs from his mouth. But, ever the champion, Kobayashi caught it all in his hand — and some in his water cup — and pushed it all back in.
Chestnut and Bertoletti pointed to alert the judges, but as the photo shows, I was pointing, too — reminding Kobayashi of the rules: a competitor will be disqualified if the effluvia hits the table. If it’s caught in the hand, and shoved back in, well, no harm, no foul.
As the late Johnny Cochran might have said: Kobayashi caught his regurgitate and didn’t hesitate. Yes, bits of hot dog did remain in his cup at the end of the competition — so I docked him a quarter-dog, making the new world record 53-3/4 instead of 54.
From where I sat, there was no controversy: Kobayashi had stared defeat in the face and pushed it right back into his own jaws of victory.
What a champion.
What a judge.
