Burger battle leaves editor out of juice

   Preparing for an eating competition is no easy feat. It’s especially difficult when you only have 24 hours to do just that.

   Yet even on such short notice, I accepted the challenge of subjecting myself to as many burgers as humanly possible in 20 minutes time.

   I drank a bottle of water every hour because I heard it would help expand my stomach. I ate yogurt in place of heavy meals so I’d have a somewhat massive appetite come game time. I even considered wearing sweatpants because of the elasticity, but instead opted for the jeans – unbuckled and unbuttoned.

   It was Sutter’s Mill and Mining Co.’s 14th annual Steerburger-Eating Contest benefiting Pulmonary Fibrosis. Contestants gorged on all-you-can-eat 8-ounce burgers (including buns) that dwarfed those of Mickey D’s and Burger King.

   I learned of the contest through a friend of mine who was asked to enter the contest by members of the University at Albany Competitive Eating Club who were well aware of his eating habits. My friend, Harrison, in turn asked me to enter knowing that even if he couldn’t come in first place, at the very least, he could out eat me.

   When the contest was ready to start, the nine contestants took their position at the table. I sized up my competition, but this may have done more harm than good. There were amateur competitive eaters, ex-football players, a reporter from a local news station (who was given a plate of fries instead) and a masked man whose girth gave Rex Ryan a run for his money.

   All I had going for me were my wits; I felt like I’d watched enough Nathan’s hot dog eating contests on ESPN to get by just fine.

   The whistle blew and without thinking too much, I dove right in. I felt like a well-oiled machine designed for the sole purpose of ingesting hamburgers. I methodically poured a pool of ketchup into my plate, separated the burger from the bun, dunked the burger and bun into the ketchup and cup of water provided, chewed and swallowed.

   I repeated those steps for the entire 20 minutes, each time
getting slower, each time my jaw  hurting more, each time thinking to myself how disgusting this whole thing was.

   Every now and again I’d look up at the other challengers; one guy threw up and another choked — both were disqualified.

   I stood up when I felt too full and wiggled my body around (a tip I learned from my main man Takeru Kobayashi).

   Even with all of this going my way, I was no match for Harrison, who finished with six
burgers in the allotted time, and Niklaus Schultz, a goliath of a man who ate seven burgers and was so unfazed that he washed it all down with a pint of beer immediately after.

   Schultz ended up taking all the winnings: $100 in cash, a championship belt, free concert tickets, free dinner for four, a mini-fridge full of beer and bragging rights until next year’s contest.

   I ended the contest having eaten three whole burgers, but walked away with something else. No, not a newfound appreciation for competitive eating, but rather an awful stomachache that took a few minutes with my head in the toilet to remedy. 

   While I’d love to say the experience was rewarding, it put me in an unsettling mood. My celebrity had been gone in a matter of minutes — I was left feeling cheap like the meat used in your favorite burger.