In Italy and most of the rest of the world, they chanted Fabio Grosso's name after his overtime goal broke a nil-nil deadlock with Germany and propelled the Italians into the World Cup Soccer final. Here in the USA, we chanted the name of Joey Chestnut as he came up two dogs short in his quest to unseat perennial champion Takeru Kobayashi of Japan in the Nathan's Famous Fourth of July International Hot Dog Eating Contest on Coney Island.
OK, I'll ask the question: What in the hell has happened to American sports?
Just take a look at these quotes from the World Cup:
"Ghana played wonderful football, so did Spain, Holland and Ivory Coast. Where are they now? All back home!" -- England coach Sven-Goran Eriksson.
"What matters now is to go all the way. We can't be content with that. We must recuperate and start focusing. We must give all we have in the final to make sure we have no regrets." -- France coach Raymond Domenech.
"I'm 34 and I feel like the 10-year-old boy who watched the World Cup and found it beautiful." -- France defender Lilian Thuram.
"If Brazil are the best team in the World Cup then I am Geri Halliwell." -- Elton John.
They're the type of words used to articulate the passion, heartache and heroics that transpire when the world gathers for an epic sporting event.
Now, try on these quotes from the hot dog eating contest:
"Chestnut jumped out to an early lead in the competition, sometimes jamming franks into his mouth with two hands as the crowd roared." -- Washington Post.
"I hit a wall. I just felt tired." -- Chestnut, after downing 52 dogs to take second place.
"The Nathan's Famous Fourth of July International Hot Dog Eating Contest has become a highlight of America's greatest patriotic holiday. It epitomizes the spirit associated with summer each year." -- Wayne Norbitz, president and COO of Nathan's Famous Hot Dogs.
"It's like making it to the World Cup." -- Eric "The Red" Denmark, who finished well behind the leader after only managing to down 22 hot dogs.
Do you see a disturbing trend here? We can't compete with the best nations on the soccer field, so we'll invent a sport out of something we do well -- gluttonous eating -- and speak of it in World Cup-worthy lexicon.
"It epitomizes the spirit associated with summer each year."
Really, Wayne? What spirit is that? Getting royally toasted at the family reunion and shoving so many frankfurters down your gullet that you end up on all fours hunched over a porcelain bowl retching your guts out? That's some definition of the word "spirit." Kobayashi engulfed over 19,000 calories in wolfing down 53-and-three-quarters hot dogs in 12 minutes. That's nearly two weeks' worth of calories consumed in less than one quarter hour. The Japanese power-muncher gained seven pounds during the competition. Sounds more like the spirit of the Thanksgiving/Christmas weight-gaining season, if you ask me.
"It's like making it to the World Cup."
Nice analogy, Denmark. Here's another: I bet when you passed all of those hot dogs, it was like making it to the World Championship of Poker -- what with all of the flushes.
I blame all of this on the U.S. men's basketball team. Back in the days when the original Dream Team drained threes the way Kobayashi drained cups of water while ingesting his dogs, all was right with American sports and we didn't feel the need to invent pseudo-sports to stay relevant on the international scene. Then the latest incarnation of American men's hoops flamed out quicker than a bottle rocket at the last Olympic Games, losing to teams still coming to grips with playing with a round, not oblong, ball.
Next thing you know, ESPN was covering poker and wiener-eating contests like they were the Super Bowl and Stanley Cup finals. You have to wonder what's next. There's certainly no shortage of "events" that Americans are good at that we could package as sports. Kobayashi may rule the hot dog scarfing circuit, but let's see a foreigner beat us at these competitions.
The World Cup of Road Rage -- Nobody gets angrier behind the wheel than we Americans do. We can cuss out a driver quicker than you can say "driving for miles with your blinker on." We can also flip the bird faster than the cooking crew at a whole gaggle of KFCs.
The World Series of Voice Mail -- We've become a nation of folks quite adept at navigating our way through elaborate voice mail programs. "Press 1 for English." No problem. "Listen closely to your options because our menu has changed." Check. "Please speak your problem into your receiver clearly so that I can transfer you to the right department." Gotcha. "Your estimated wait time is 30 minutes." I can do that standing on my head.
The rules would be simple: First person to get a live person on the phone wins. Start queuing up "The Star-Spangled Banner," we've got this one in the bag.
The World Championship of Automobile Multi-tasking -- Anyone can just drive a car, but it takes an American to get from point A to point B while also handling multiple tasks as we cruise 65 down the highway. Competitors would be required to successfully complete a cell phone call (sans headset) while adjusting the satellite radio, fixing their hair or make-up in the rearview mirror, smoking a cigarette and eating a 10-pack of Timbits. All while deftly holding a scalding cup of Tim Horton's coffee between their knees. I smell gold for the red, white and blue.
The Player's Championship of Remote Control Clicking -- Here's the set-up: 700 channels, three remote controls, one Barcalounger. Each competitor grabs the first remote and uses it to turn on the television. The second remote fires up the Dolby surround-sound system, while the third activates the satellite receiver. The object is to watch one channel in the small screen while flipping through the other 699 on the menu screen, all the while bemoaning that there's "not a damn thing on." The winner is the first person to get through all of the channels and then successfully navigate his way into the TiVo list and clicking on "Brian's Song" -- just as a reminder of when sports were really sports.
You might think that I'm just playing this for laughs, but remember this: When these show up on ESPN, I want royalties, baby. Niagara Falls, Ont., this past fortnight has seen hundreds of cars adorned with the flags of nations competing in the World Cup. It's a phenomenon that hadn't made its way across the Rainbow Bridge. Yesterday, I thought I saw a car with a New York state plate flying a World Cup flag. On closer inspection, it turned out to be a false alarm. It was a Japanese flag, all right, but it was superimposed with a giant Nathan's hot dog.
| Niagara Falls Reporter | www.niagarafallsreporter.com | July 11 2006 |