Joey 'Jaws' Chestnut to return to Coney Island hotdog eating contest after contract dispute
The champ is coming back to chomp.
Competitive eater Joey 'Jaws' Chestnut announced Monday he will return to compete in this year's Nathan's Famous Fourth of July hot dog eating contest after skipping last year's gastronomic battle for the coveted Mustard Belt.
'This event means the world to me,' Chestnut, 41, said in a message posted on X. 'It's a cherished tradition, a celebration of American culture, and a huge part of my life.'
It will mark the 20th appearance for the Indiana eater at the Coney Island contest.
Last year, Major League Eating event organizer George Shea said Chestnut, who has won the 10-minute eat-a-thon 16 times, would not be participating due to a contract dispute. Chestnut had struck a deal with a competing brand, the plant-based meat company Impossible Foods.
In a phone interview Monday, the competitive eater made it clear he never appeared in any commercials for the company's vegan hot dogs and that Nathan's is the only hot dog company he has worked with. But Chestnut acknowledged he 'should have made that more clear with Nathan's."
'There was a little bit of communication that we could have improved on last year,' he said. 'And I, yeah, I think we figured it out. It took a little bit of finessing.'
Chestnut is still working with Impossible Foods and said 'clarifications' have been made to his respective contracts.
Richard Shea, president of Major League Eating, said he did not want to rehash what happened last year because he found it 'dispiriting,' but said he's happy 'everything is resolved' now.
'I think it's the return of the greatest competitive eater of all time to the biggest competitive eating event of all time. So I don't think it gets much bigger in any sport,' Shea said. 'I mean, this guy is the greatest performer we've ever seen in Coney Island and in competitive eating.'
Chestnut said he heard from fans over the past year who wanted him to return to the Coney Island event, which is broadcast live on ESPN and even shown overseas.
Last year, he opted to compete against soldiers in Fort Bliss, in El Paso, Texas, in a 5-minute hot dog eating contest. Back in New York, Patrick Bertoletti gobbled up 58 hot dogs to win his first men's title while defending champion Miki Sudo won her 10th title in the women's division, downing a record 51 links.
Chestnut holds the world record of eating 76 hot dogs.
'Over the last year, I ran into a lot of people who said that it wasn't the same without me. And I told many people that I was going to work really hard to make sure I got back there,' Chestnut said. 'And I'm really happy that Nathan's and Major League Eating, we were able all to figure it out.'
Chestnut said he been prepping for the big event and has a couple practice sessions left before the July Fourth holiday.
'My body's in tune right now,' he said, explaining how he has to build tolerance for consuming so many hot dogs and 'get all those muscles used to working together.' He likened the process to boxer getting in practice rounds before a big fight.
Chestnut made it clear his business relationship with Impossible Foods does not mean he has become a vegan, an assumption he said some fans made last year. Chestnut said he was surprised by the 'weird blowback' he received about it, explaining he eats a plant-based diet during his recovery from competitive eating events.
'I love meat. I'm going to continue to eat meat. But when I recover from a contest, I have to eat super clean in order to get my body to try to get back to normal,' he said. 'I can't eat pounds of meat every day.'
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She looked through a printout of figures and nodded. 'Vampire and werewolf stories are making a resurgence, too.' I jotted this down in a notebook, my handwriting messy and quick. Campus, werewolf, domination. 'Got it.' 'By the way, the app store won't let us use the words penis, vagina or cock,' she said flatly. 'Oh,' I said. 'Why not?' 'Terms of service stuff.' 'Got it.' 'Read a few of the stories for inspiration on how to work around this. You'll get the hang of it.' 'Right.' 'People get really creative. Fruit works, sometimes.' 'Fruit?' 'You'll see what I mean,' she said. 'And you'll need a pen name. Unless you want to use your own?' I shook my head. 'I'll find a pen name.' That afternoon, I sat on my friends' balcony. I told them about my new job, which would somehow slot in alongside all the other jobs I was doing. It was one of the first truly warm days of summer, and we were determined to spend the entire thing outside. Between sips of iced coffee, we plotted out my story chapter by chapter, my friends enthusiastic about its trajectory. 'Maybe she can hook up with her roommate?' I suggested. 'Yes, that's great,' John said. 'Make it a love triangle.' He dragged a finger through the air, drawing a triangle. 'I can't believe you're writing porn,' Maria said, leaning back in a wooden folding chair. 'How fun.' 'Not porn. Erotica.' 'Same difference,' John said. He pulled the notes I'd scrawled towards him and squinted. 'OK, what happens next?' By the end of the day, John and I had plotted out an entire story arc: the student and the TA's tumultuous affair; the way they were almost found out; the forces that almost pulled them apart. Ultimately, love and sex brought them back together. 'This is basically an entire romance novel,' John said. 'Smuttier, though.' 'Of course.' 'And worse.' Maria spent the day brainstorming pen name ideas, which she would occasionally pipe up to suggest. Madame Scarlett? 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It was the most compassion I'd ever gotten from an employer, which was nice but also annoying. Part of me hoped to be fired, freed entirely from my contract. But no – these people were, unfortunately, sweet and thoughtful. Within a few weeks I had come to hate the work. Though it was fun in the beginning, it quickly lost its charm, the sex scenes becoming tedious and exhausting once they were no longer new to me. 'There are only so many ways to write 'they had sex', you know?' I told Maria one day. She shook her head. 'I really don't.' The biggest problem was just that I was overworked. Writing that much sapped all of my creative and physical energy, leaving me unwilling or unable to write much else. When I neared the final chapter, my friends and I sat around with a bottle of wine and celebrated the fact that my life as an erotica writer was almost done. They suggested words and phrases I should try to sneak into the final chapter as a little personal challenge: cornucopia, sledgehammer, pumpernickel, Seinfeld, Donna Tartt, the Watergate scandal. Maria squinted at John. 'That last one is too silly,' she said. 'She won't be able to manage it.' 'Have faith,' I said. I managed them all, laughing along the way as I tweaked the story to include them. By the time it was done, I'd written more than 70,000 words of smut. My editor asked if I wanted to renew my contract and I declined. She insisted, saying we could alter the work schedule, maybe even up my pay by another $5 per chapter. My story, she revealed, was gaining a devoted following, quickly becoming one of the most popular on the app. This felt nice – my anonymous magnum opus. Still, I said no. As time passed in Montreal and I did more odd jobs, my hands were getting marginally better. This meant that, as long as I was very careful and worked within a strict set of limitations, there was one more type of work that became available to me again: cartooning. I'd loved drawing since I was a kid. Growing up, I drew countless pictures of animals (especially birds), carefully copying them from the books I begged my mom to buy me. When my pain first started in 2021 and I realised I would have to take a months-long break from drawing, it had been a particularly tough blow. Drawing wasn't as big of a part of my income or my identity as writing was, but it still mattered to me immensely. What felt worse was the fact that, a month before I lost the ability to draw, I'd sold my first cartoon to the New Yorker – an accomplishment I'd worked towards for years, and which I worried I might never be able to repeat. Now, in my very ergonomic home office, I could draw again (though I needed to set a timer beforehand to make sure I didn't work for more than 20 minutes at a time). When the timer went off, I'd stand and stretch and take a break. I limited the amount of projects I took on so I wouldn't overdo it. However, every now and then I pitched a cartoon to the New Yorker, or accepted a commission request for a portrait of someone's dog. Cartooning became a very small part of the tapestry of odd jobs that came together to make up an income. But it was one I was happy to be able to include. On dates, I try to condense this all into a short spiel. I'm a writer. I do the Horse News. I'm a copywriter. I also draw cartoons, sometimes, but that's neither here nor there. Even this has omissions, but it's the best I can do. 'Wouldn't you rather just have a normal job?' one date – a lawyer – asked. It's something I've wondered myself. Sometimes, looking at overlapping assignments and deadlines on my Google calendar, I feel overwhelmed and exhausted. But when I'm in pain, I can take a break in the middle of the day, or even go back to bed if I need to. 'This suits me best,' I said. I ended that date early, as I do all weekday dates. I have a great excuse: Horse News is due at 7.30 tomorrow morning. Excerpted from Look Ma, No Hands by Gabrielle Drolet. Published by McClelland & Stewart, a division of Penguin Random House Canada Limited Listen to our podcasts here and sign up to the long read weekly email here.
