PUBLIC LISTENING: NATHAN’S FAMOUS HOT DOG EATING CONTEST

BLOGGING FOR AMERICA

I didn’t spend my Fourth of July weekend in the Hamptons, the Catskills, or the Jersey Shore; I didn’t go to the Midwest or ship up to New England. This year, I made it a Coney Island Holiday. The evening before, I went to a Brooklyn Cyclones minor league baseball game, which was notable for its fireworks celebration, which was sponsored, for whatever reason, by Molson, a proudly Canadian brand of beer. Nothing beats listening to Springsteen and Mellencamp and watching the Rockets’ Red Glare while a large logo for Molson Canadian clings to an adjacent jumbotron. Happy Birthday, America!

Less than 12 hours later, I was back in Coney Island for the one thing that everyone in this twisted nation can agree on: The Nathan’s Famous Hot Dog Eating Contest. I tried to go to the event in 2023, but it got rained out. This year, the skies were clear, but a dark cloud of a different kind hung over the proceedings. Star eater Joey Chestnut—who, in 2021, ate a record 76 hot dogs in ten minutes—was barred, having accepted an endorsement deal with the meat substitute brand Impossible. Without Chestnut, the men’s side of the competition was really anyone’s game. 

There is not much new I can say about the “grotesque ritual” that is competitive binge eating, and I’m aware that writing about an event like this is a layup at best, but I will say that the punishing energy that happens on the Nathan’s stage isn’t all that different from a basement noise set. It’s an ideal place to go and be a music blogger.

9:32: The Clash “Should I Stay or Should I Go”

Last year, when I got to Coney Island just before 11 a.m., I was greeted with a massive crowd and an obstructed sightline. I wouldn’t make the same mistake again. I had to loop around the Surf Avenue sidewalk in order to get in a queue for the main viewing area. The first two songs I heard were both by British artists: “Should I Stay or Should I Go” and “Crocodile Rock.” As I stood on line, as they say, I was given a pair of promotional sunglasses for an upcoming Amazon Prime Original Movie called Jackpot. It stars John Cena and Awkwafina. I feel bad even mentioning it.

9:45 Lee Greenwood “God Bless The U.S.A.”

The contest was located next to the original Nathan’s Famous location. I waited in a line that started at Surf and snaked down Stillwell before entering into an enclosed lot that contained a stage and a broadcasting booth. As I got closer to the checkpoint, I watched security pat down a man in a hot dog costume. To my left, covering multiple window panes at a restaurant called Crab Du Jour, there was a photo of Joey Chestnut holding a Pepsi in front of a plate of hot dogs. It was one of many reminders of the man’s conspicuous absence. 

9:49: CMJ “City Dweller”

For those who want to know how early you need to get to Coney Island to have a halfway decent view of the hot dog eating contest, I have a general answer for you: roughly an hour and a half before it starts. After getting in, I was able to post up by a fence that ran parallel to the stage from the left. “City Dweller” is a general lo-fi study beat, and it got interrupted first by a ringing phone, and then by Hot Hand Band, a New Orleans-style brass band that, at one point, played a cover of Kendrick Lamar’s “Bitch Don’t Kill My Vibe” that segued into Outkast’s “Spottieottiedopaliscious.” There was a tap dancer involved. 

Milling about in the crowd was the legendary competitive eater Edward "Cookie" Jarvis, a formidable man wearing a massive robe that had stitched into it his many achievements. On the back of the robe was a list of victories (Hooters Chicken Wings Champ, 2004; Chinook Winds Casino Rib Eating Champ, 2003; Battle Of The Buffets Las Vegas, 2002), and on the sleeve was a list of his television appearances (the Fox & Friends morning show; the NBC hour-long drama Las Vegas). I wanted to talk to him, but I remembered that I wasn’t here as a reporter. I was here as a music blogger.

My vantage point looked directly onto the backstage area, where I watched one competitive eater bite down on the kind of jaw-strengthener often used by young men looking to crew their way to Chaddom. It was nice to see the device being deployed by someone who had a serious reason to want to work their facial muscles... They had to eat hot dogs. Eric “Badlands” Booker, a rapper, competitive eater, and chugging champion of the world, greeted the crowd from the fence. I got a hi-five. The brass band did a call-and-response with the crowd—something about hot dogs. Another athlete iced his throat. Men carried treys. The sound person put an interesting reverb on the snare drum—almost dubby.

10:37: Amos Wengler “Welcome To Coney Island”

More live entertainment, the Coney Island old-timer Amos Wengler. “Hot dogs hot dogs / Watch them eat em up / Hot dogs hot dogs / It’s great with soda pop.” For real: These old-ass Coney Island songs sound like Jonathan Richman.

10:43: Tujamo “Drop That Low (When I Dip)”

Here was the first appearance of MC George Shea, co-founder and chairman of Major League Eating. His face looked like Leland Palmer from Twin Peaks; he wore a straw hat; and he had a grandiose oratory style that was at once philosophical, biblical, and ironic. It was almost as if he thought that the ghost of David Foster Wallace was in the crowd. Some of his jargon was borderline Nietzschean; it seemed to tacitly point to the darkness underpinning any Fourth of July celebration, but I’m probably stretching multiple things here. Whatever the case, Shea didn’t waste any time addressing the elephant in the bun. “Perhaps some of you heard there was a little controversy this year,” he said, telling the crowd that he was “devastated” by the news of Chestnut’s absence. “I love Joey Chestnut more than anyone here,” he continued. Then he mentioned that he would “take a bullet” for the eater before admitting that the situation would be “very unlikely.” Then the crowd started chanting Chestnut’s name.

10:47: R3HAB & VINAI “How We Party”

The Nathan’s Famous hype crew, formerly known as the Bun Boys, who Shea announced were now to be referred to as the “gender non-specific” Bun Brigade, took to the stage. The whole Brigade looked like they spent a bit of time at the gym. They wore tight shorts and flew an American flag. One had a cowboy hat. A 2014 EDM song blasted (sounded good). On the stage, officials in blue shirts sculpted towers of meat and bread. Some sort of fake “Lose Yourself” kind of track started to play. It was time for the women's competition.

The women lined up and Shea introduced each one individually. He spoke of “the intangible elements of the human spirit” and competitive eating as “the lens through which our humanity can be revealed.” He talked about the ability “to rise above the material of our birth” when introducing an eater whose claim to fame is ingesting ten pounds of boysenberry pie. One eater’s “body is a temple” filled with “macaroni and cheese.” Another was “submerged into the black oil of night” in her dreams (“no ups and downs—just darkness”) until she was named the pepperoni roll eating champion of something or another. But this was all merely the opening act for the two major eaters: Miki Sudo and Mayoi Ebihara. 

Sudo is five foot four and Ebihara is even shorter. Both looked athletic. In contemporary competitive eating, the stomach works magic tricks. 28-year-old Ebihara once ate 220 pieces of sushi in a single sitting. She was carrying the torch for a proud tradition of Japanese eaters that perhaps peaked, at least in the American imagination, with Takeru Kobayashi, who was dominant for a stretch in the 2000s but whose career dissipated in a somewhat tragic manner. He retired earlier this year. The 38-year-old Sudo was the incoming champ with a personal best of 48 hot dogs. She waited in the wings with a pink Nathan’s Famous belt on her shoulder and Beats by Dre over her ears. Shea called her the “vortex at the center of the vortex,” whose “legacy is a vessel that will carry her name to the far shores of time.” Sudo was locked in. There was a nice breeze. It was time to eat.

11:00: Givor Paradis “Highway”

From my perspective, it was mostly hands and arms. I know I’m supposed to provide some insight into the craft and mastery of the competitive eater, and I suppose I could’ve maybe come to some conclusions about that if I had re-watched the event broadcast on ESPN. But in the moment I couldn’t see all that much. (I’m a music blogger.) The eaters dunked their dogs in hot water so they could slide down their gullets quicker. A step-and-repeat backdrop used to document the eventual champion briefly further obstructed my view. It became clear that this was going to be Sudo versus Ebihara, with the former up 26 dogs to 20 at the halfway mark.

11:06: Tyler Robinson “Waterfall”

Though Ebihara was eating with style—she appeared to be doing a sort of dance—Sudo was hitting another gear altogether. Shea: “She cannot hear me; she cannot hear you; it’s just her and the hot dogs.” It was not a question of whether she would win but of whether she would break her own record. With under three minutes left, she was at 40 dogs. 44 at two. With 90 seconds to go, the crowd was chanting her name. As Sudo hit her own record, I was trying to Shazam a song because I am a music blogger. At the final count, Sudo ate 51 hot dogs. “Forgive me, I almost blacked out at the end of that contest,” Shea said, calling it a “very emotional” moment. “You should go in with the men—Caitlin Clark and all that,” he said a little later. A reporter from The Daily Mail walked by me with a branded microphone.

11:21: Philippe Jaroussky “Nisi Dominus, RV 608 ‘Cum dederit’”

Following a trophy ceremony, the crowd stopped to mourn the passing of American competitive eater Charles Hardy. His family moved in a procession across the perimeter of the stage, carrying Hardy’s hat on a pillow and congregating at the center to say goodbye. “To the entire world, he was Hungry Charles Hardy, but to us, he was Chucky,” one family member said. It was a genuinely moving moment, made not less but more impactful by the fact that it was sandwiched between hours of gonzo American mayhem. A little later, Shea announced the next performer, whom he called the “Brazilian Bon Jovi.”

11:29: Felipe Pavani “Sweet Child O’ Mine”

Last year, I remember Shea introducing Pavani as someone that he discovered on the subway. This year, he covered not Bon Jovi but Guns N' Roses, and he rocked with a hollow body guitar that was not nearly overdriven enough to convincingly play the iconic opening riff to “Sweet Child O’ Mine.” The vocals made up for it.

11:35: Fifth Harmony (Feat. Ty Dolla $ign) “Work from Home”

Like the Bun Boys, the Bunettes have now been folded into the larger Bun Brigade. Great sentence. My morning coffee was wearing off, and Pitbull was playing. Shea launched into a speech about how, in 2009, a configuration of leaders came together to create “the anthem of the world,” a transcendent piece of music that could travel beyond borders and serve as a testament to humanity worldwide. And just what was that song?

11:38: Sean Kingston “Fire Burning”

Pretty funny bit. Shortly after the song started, Shea started dropping it low. A line of flag-wavers hit the stage. The last person in that line carried a flag not representing any country but rather the state of Indiana. “There’s no way to top that,” Shea said. A dance troupe from earlier—Ms. Aly's Dance Studio—came back on and did a routine to an EDM version of “Livin’ on a Prayer.”

11:42

At this point I had to totally dislodge from the larger “Public Listening” concept and start rocking with a series of unmarked timestamps because things started happening at a fast clip and much of the music playing appeared to be royalty-free. Badlands Booker was on stage. It was time for a rap battle. (Shea: “Selector, give me just a dirty, nasty beat.”) At one juncture, the host started rhyming a long and increasingly complex list of Italian foods and grocery products. (Does ‘80s and ‘90s New York hip hop operate in a space once occupied by Dixieland jazz?) After that: an interview with a member of the National Guard, the Bunnettes again, and the repeating sound of a ringing bell.

11:53

Shea was raised two stories high on a forklift, booming for the benefit of both the crowd at hand and ESPN. He yelled about a “battleground” where “God and Lucifer wage war” over music that sounded like a ‘90s rap remix of a piece of choral music. Pavani was back. He did a hard rock cover of “...Baby One More Time” by Britney Spears. Sudo’s kid came out and did an interview. Final statement: “I want another hot dog.” As Shea pointed out, it’s in the genes.

11:58

A long time ago, I went on tour supporting a rap group in Canada. I noticed that the group's tour manager was milling around backstage. I doubt he would’ve remembered me, but even if he did, I’m not sure what I would’ve said to him. “Yeah… Not doing so much music anymore… Got a blog going, though. It’s called John’s Music Blog. Maybe you’ve heard of it?”

12:00

It was time for the chugging championship, which meant that it was time for Badlands to do more rapping. If you haven’t checked out his YouTube account, BadlandsChugs, I highly recommend it. He wears a fedora and takes down bags of Big Gulp. Before that day, he held the speed record for chugging a gallon Nathan’s lemonade—23.8 seconds—and it was clear during the event that he was on a different level. His gulps and swallows operated in perfect mechanical rhythm, like a human pool pump. He set a new record of 21 seconds, and after it was all done, a husky man with a yellow mohawk who just moments earlier had been furiously chugging sprayed bright yellow streams out of his mouth.

12:07

Following the puke, Shea brought up an opera singer, the soprano Sara Beth Pearson, to belt out an excerpt from a Puccini masterwork. This was the point where I started to consider the idea that Shea might be an artist. What is more Matthew Barney-esque than an opera singer at a hot dog eating contest? The Bun Brigade came back on. Shea sang a Cyndi Lauper duet. More hot dogs were carted to the stage. A drumline appeared; their tempo and cadence sped up as the striped-shirted hot dog referees made their way to their positions. A photographer with a New York Times hat and press accreditation walked by me with a grin. I was fading fast.

12:23

Triumphant sports music rang out, and Shea “swore in” the judges using legal-sounding jargon that I am going to assume meant nothing. Badlands rapped some more. I’m almost as exhausted writing this as you are reading it.

12:29

It was time for Shea to announce the men. Here are some fragments of what he said: “The number one ranked eater in Canada”; “the undisputed peanut cluster eating champion of Wooster, Mass”; “a pork roll eating specialist who has over 3 million followers on TikTok”; “this man is under attack by his supervisor at work for taking too long on his lunch break”; “a man so evil they put him in prison in hell”; “he is overwhelmed by contemporary culture”; “17 pounds of ramen”; “ten pounds of baked beans in one minute 41 seconds”; “24 pounds of strawberry shortcake”; “two gallons of baby food.”

With Chestnut out of the game, Shea shined a spotlight on a few eaters he thought might be making a play for the belt. There was 49-year-old Geoffrey Esper, who comes from Oxford, MA, and has a PhD in physics. There was also James Webb, a 35-year-old Australian also known as J Webby Can Eat, whom Shea said “could go off like a rocket.” We were 30 seconds out. Shea counted it down. This would all be over soon.

Compared to the women's match, the men’s eating felt extreme. From what I could see, they all looked like they were in agony. The battle was indeed between Webb and Esper, but also between Patrick "Deep Dish" Bertoletti, a 39-year-old Chicago eater who holds the record for the most milk consumed in a single hour. With four minutes to go, Bertoletti had put down 40 hot dogs, with Webb at 38 and Esper at 36. “I have never seen as tight a field in this contest,” Shea said. Bertoletti started to pull away; when he hit 50, Shea started talking about “the white highway of history.” Bertoletti broke his own record and finished with 58. Chestnut would’ve easily crushed that. I was getting a headache and needed water, food, and caffeine. As I was leaving, I overheard an interview with Bertoletti, who usually wears a signature hairdo, but not today. “It was all focus,” he said. “No mohawk, just hot water.”