Please hold the mustard: Hot dog-eating contests not part of sports world


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Five hand-me-those-Tums days have passed since the friar of franks, California’s own Joey Chestnut, won his sixth consecutive Nathan’s Famous Hot Dog Eating Contest.

Sixty-eight was the count. In 10 minutes. Bun and all.

That’s like taking Charles Barkley to a dozen baseball games, the obvious difference being that the old Round Mound could pace his feasting over a duration of no less than nine innings every time.

Even in our obesity-threatened country, it’s harmless setting aside a few moments to devote to televised gluttony. Observers can watch, wince and think to themselves how many franks they might be able to put down in the allotted time.

Chestnut did 68. I’d be fortunate to get 6.8. Or 3.8 unless the necessary condiments are within reach (set the mustard and ketchup right over there, please).

The world’s King of Coneys is only 28. Meanwhile, Chestnut’s intestines are 81. If able to sidestep a lifetime of bleeding ulcers and emergency room heart paddles, Chestnut might be able to continue his July 4 dominance well into the next decade.

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