Rarely does a story hit as near and dear to my heart as this one. It’s the convergence of two of my longtime interests – eating contests and being a vegetarian. So when these worlds collided in a controversy that will rock the landscape of competitive eating, it’s like manna from heaven.
For those who haven’t heard the story, and I assume that’s most of you, the longtime reigning champion at the July 4th Nathans Famous Hot Dog Eating Contest Joey Chestnut will not be allowed to compete this year. That decision came from Major League Eating, the organizing body that oversees competitive eating. And no, that’s not made up. Chestnut has won 16 in total and eight consecutive Mustard Belts and holds the world record of 76 hot dogs and buns in 10 minutes. He is the Tiger Woods of competitive eating, an American hero that has overwhelmed all comers both domestic and from abroad, including a well-publicized feud with his former nemesis Takeru Kobayashi of Japan who won six Nathans belts of his own. Chestnut is one of the few competitive eaters that has name recognition outside of the cultish fan scene of the sport. And he’s the star draw at one of America’s most bizarre sporting rituals.
Only now, all the adoring fans that flock to Coney Island on Independence Day won’t see Joey Chestnut shove his face with enough hot dogs to feed a school picknick. You’ll see guys like Crazy Legs Conti and Eater X. But not Joey Chestnut, the greatest eater to ever lift a fork. He’s been banned from competing because he agreed to a sponsorship deal with, if you can believe this, Impossible Foods. The company that makes the plant based Impossible Burgers and vegan Impossible Hot Dogs. Yes, the man who is synonymous with gluttonous consumption of processed meat is now a spokesperson for fake meat, an existential threat for everyone in the animal processing industry.
According to Major League Eating and Nathans, signing with a rival brand is a no no. Essentially, competitors have to pledge hot dog brand exclusivity. So no Oscar Meyer or Hebrew National or Impossible. And let’s leave aside the fact that there is no way you can possibly enjoy any hot dog consumed at around six a minute.
There’s a lot to digest here. First, let’s address the notion of whether competitive eating is actually a sport, which feels central to the dispute. Without going into the sociology of the issue, I’ll simply say that when I was in college and on the track team, we created a race where you ran two miles across campus and ate a meal at each of the six dining halls before finishing with a lap around the track. It was the hardest sporting event I’ve ever competed in. And it wasn’t because of the running. So from that highly unscientific example, I say yes, the hot dog eating contest is a sport, and Joey Chestnut is a world class athlete.
Second, and more critical to this story, should Major League Eating be able to ban its star competitor because he’s trying to make some extra money and save a few animals in the process? This gets to the heart of what it actually means to be a sport, more than any definition of physical skill and competition. Competitive eating and really any professional sport exist because they’ve created a confluence of athletic prowess, spectator interest, and corporate support. Football may be a sport, but the NFL is a business. Meaning that the Nathans Hot Dog eating contest isn’t designed simply to find out who can ingest the most franks in one sitting. It’s to generate revenue and build ROI for sponsors. So when your top dog publicly promotes another company’s product – one made of plants, for God’s sakes – it tends to defeat that general purpose. It’s like when the USA Basketball Dream Team refused to wear Reebok logos on the medal stand. Which means that Joey Chestnut and Michael Jordan may have more in common than just being the greatest ever in their respective sports.
What’s the future look like for Joey Chestnut and competitive eating? I’d be surprised if he, along with his new sponsor, don’t try to build a new eating competition of their own. You know, one up Nathans with an Impossible crown. It might take a few years to catch on, which I think is okay. Because unlike hot dogs, revenge is a dish best served cold.
Keith Strudler is the director of the School of Communication and Media at Montclair State University. You can follow him at @KeithStrudler
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