The great sports debate: Are competitive eaters really athletes?

The Fourth of July won't be the same this year.

Sure, there will be fireworks and hot dogs and the downtown Fairfield parade and people wearing red, white and blue.

But when ESPN shows the Nathan's Hot Dog Contest Thursday morning, it will be missing the Michael Jordan of eating contests: Former Vallejo resident Joey Chestnut.

Chestnut, who has won the event eight straight years, was deemed ineligible to compete in the contest because he's now sponsored by a competing brand that offers hot dogs that are (gasp!) plant-based. So Chestnut will set it out and will instead compete against Takeru Kobayashi, the Babe Ruth of eating contests, in a Labor Day competition shown on Netflix.

That will be a spectacle, but it's a shame when two great athletes can't . . . 

Hold on.

Wait a second.

That's as far as this can go because calling someone an "athlete" because they can eat a lot of hot dogs is ridiculous. Of course, they're not athletes, unless we're going to similarly say athletes include jugglers and tap dancers and . .. I don't know, people who eat a 64-ounce steak and thus get it free.

Competitive eaters are not athletes and to take an old-school view, many of the people who now get called "athletes" aren't really. They're performers, not athletes.

Being an athlete means doing a sport. A sport involves athletes competing.

Do you think that's a bad definition? You're right because I don't have a great definition. My definition is similar to that of Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart, who famously said of obscenity in 1964, "I know it when I see it." Same thing for sports and non-sports.

So here's a cheat sheet for future reference on what is a sport and what isn't.

Is competitive eating a sport? No, it's a sideshow. Is chess a sport? No, it's a board game. Is cheerleading a sport? Yes, when there are judges and scoring, but not when it's on the sidelines encouraging fans to cheer for players in another sport. 

Is poker a sport? Absolutely not, it's a card game. Is auto racing a sport? Yes. Is fishing a sport? Um . . . I guess so. Come back to me later on this, but let's say yes. What about video gaming? Absolutely, completely, 100% not. It's a game. It's not a sport, even if you're doing a video game of a real sport.

Here's the thing: Everyone doesn't have to be an "athlete."

You can be great at video games and be a great gamer. Isn't that enough? Isn't being great at chess enough without acting like you're an athlete? You can be great at poker and probably win money (and then lie and act like you've won more than you actually have. But with a poker face, who can tell?) and isn't that enough?

Joey Chestnut is the greatest competitive eater ever. People know his name. He's wealthy. He has a sponsor. He's part of a streaming event on Netflix.

He's not an athlete. He's an eater.

However, one final tip: Chestnut will beat Kobiyashi on Memorial Day. Because he's from Solano County, home of champions.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

When was culture at its peak? When we were young

For most of us, the middle school years are difficult. Our hair is crazy, our hormones are at war, we're getting acne, we can't figure out how to fit in a group and we're convinced that everyone is constantly thinking about and judging us.

Are we cool? Are we a dork? Why do we keep getting zits?

Those are tough years. But you know what's great during those years?

The economy. Movies. Television. Music.

That is true regardless of when middle school happened, at least according to an analysis of a YouGov survey by the Washington Post Department of Data, which concluded that we all think that what happened when we were 12 to 15 years old was the peak for those areas.

As someone who thinks "Welcome Back Kotter" and "Afternoon Delight" and the first "Rocky" movie were high points in American culture, and that Gerald Ford might have been right when he pushed people to wear Whip Inflation Now (WIN) buttons, the "middle school was the peak for culture" theory rings true.

For decades I've heard people lament the current state of culture and wonder why it can't be like it was back in the old days. "The old days" were always a specific time in their life that I didn't find particularly compelling (unless they were my age).

Because I was blessed to remember "Happy Days" and "The Waltons" and "Chico and the Man."

The Post survey was fascinating in its specificity. It concluded that the 2,000 surveyed Americans couldn't agree on a specific year that music, fashion, the economy, TV or movies were best. But a deeper look revealed specifics related to the age of the person being questioned.

As mentioned, the Post's crack team found that most of us feel like music was at its best in the years when we were 12-15. That's from seventh grade through the sophomore year in high school. Does that seem right? It doesn't seem like "Jive Talkin'" (one of the great songs of all time that was a hit when I was 13) to me.

But our views go beyond that window.

We think communities were closest in whatever years we were 4 to 7 (when we didn't realize that our parents weren't really friends with our neighbors, they just tolerated them). 

The Post study found that we think families were happiest, morals were best and news reporting was most reliable in whatever years we were 8 to 11.

And we think fashion and sports were best during the years we were 16 to 19. 

This makes a lot of sense once you hear other people's opinions. When you hear someone say that music was at its best in the early 1960s or the late 1980s or 2000, you can do the math and confirm that they were 12 to 15 at that time. When we say we miss the times when neighborhoods were closer and we really took care of each other, you can guess that they're talking about the years when they were a small child and it seemed like their parents really liked the family that lived next door.

And when they lament the latest fashions, you can figure they're comparing them to whatever godawful fashions were hot when they were in their late teens.

So it's debatable when we had the best TV or the best music or the best economy or the best fashion. But it's unquestionable that when we're nostalgic, it's not so much for the music or entertainment of an era, it's for when we were young.

This means that for a generation of young people, the music, TV, economics, fashion and sports of 2024 will be considered the best ever, because they are in the golden years right now.

By the way, "Golden Years" by David Bowie is a great song.

It came out when I was 13.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

'Dear Dad' gives pears pearls of wisdom on Father's Day

Today is Father's Day, the 15th most important holiday of the year,  just ahead of Tony Orlando's birthday and just behind Arbor Day.

It's a day to honor Dad with a gift of socks or a wallet or a tool. Maybe let him sleep while watching sports (like every weekend) or have his favorite meat for dinner.

But it's also the day of another tradition: The annual "Ask Dad" column in the Daily Republic. Like "Dear Abby," "Miss Manners" and "Dear Prudence," this column provides commonsense answers to "readers" who submit "questions."

Pay no attention to the quotation marks. I'm sure they mean nothing.

Let's get to today's letters.

Dear Dad:

My daughter will soon turn 8 and most of her friends have big birthday events – parties at the trampoline center or a trip to Disneyland or a concert by the grandsons of the New Kids on the Block. My husband thinks doing that is a waste of time and money, but I don't want my daughter to feel left out. What's the best approach?

– Confused in Cordelia

Dear Confused:

She's turning 8? That's the year I started playing baseball in a real league. It wasn't Little League yet – you had to be 9 – but there was a kid in our league who I swear was 12 or 13. He was probably 6 feet tall and had the start of a mustache. Anyway, our pitcher was Mike Dellabalma, a friend of mine. Mike could throw pretty hard for an 8-year-old and he drilled this kid in the ribs. The kid started crying and nobody knew what to do. The next day, Mike strutted around the playground like a king. Good luck on the birthday party.

Dear Dad:

When my wife and I go on a trip, I do most of the driving. However, she constantly criticizes me. She thinks I drive too fast, even though I stay within 10 mph of the speed limit. That's what everyone says is the real limit, that cops won't pull you over if you're within 10 mph of the limit. My wife says that's crazy. Who is right?

– Speedy in Suisun City

Dear Speedy:

Remember when the highways all had 55 mph limits? That was crazy. It reminds me of "I Can't Drive 55," by Sammy Hagar. That had an awesome video. Did you know he's from the Bay Area? Or at least he lived here. Still, I think the David Lee Roth version of Van Halen was better than the Hagar version. Not by a lot, but "Panama" was peak Van Halen. I hope you have a good trip next time you drive.

Dear Dad:

Our adult daughter comes over for dinner every Sunday and recently she began bringing her latest beau. The only problem is that he has terrible table manners. I'm not snooty, but "Ron" eats with his mouth open, belches and sometimes complains about the food. Our daughter should notice, but she seems to ignore it. Should I say something or just let it go (and try to ignore his rudeness)?

– Waiting in Vacaville

Dear Waiting:

When I was in college, I would go to Denny's with my friends at any time. We would get breakfasts (the Grand Slam!) because they were cheap, but we didn't have much money. One time, we talked it over and after dinner, a couple of us got up to go to the bathroom. Then another person said they had to make a phone call and left. Then two other guys said they had to go to the bathroom. Long story short, we all met at the car and left, leaving the last guy – Tony – to pay the entire bill. He was mad when we finally picked him up an hour later, but we gave him enough money to cover it. What a great prank. Maybe I'll get a Grand Slam soon. Enjoy your dinner.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

New time zone on the moon won't be lunacy. Get it?

What time is it on the moon? The same as New York? Paris? Fairfield? Bejing? (The cities generally considered "The Big Four" on Earth.)

The answer is coming.

Earlier this year, the White House directed NASA to create a time zone for the moon. The idea is to have lunar time set by the end of 2026.

It's actually not a "time zone," because time passes at a different rate on the moon. It's a different time system. Kind of.

The idea was explained in an article in USA Today: "On Earth, Coordinated Universal Time, or UTC, is the standard used to set all time zones around the world. Eastern Time is four hours behind UTC. The new lunar time zone will be known as Coordinated Lunar Time, or LTC. It's not yet determined whether the moon will have one or multiple time zones."

If you're like me, the main thing that jumped out at you is that Coordinated Universal Time is shortened to UTC, which is not in the correct order. Nor is it proper to shorten Coordinated Lunar Time to LTC. How can we expect people who can't get acronyms right to get moon time right?

However, I'll listen. Because it makes sense, sort of. It's not looney.

Get it? Looney? Lunar?

Anyhoo . . . time moves a little faster on the moon than on Earth, due to our favorite satellite having less mass, lighter gravity and fewer hours spent in doctor's waiting rooms when compared to Earth. The moon's day is about 58 microseconds shorter than the Earth's, which means that over five to 10 years, moon time is faster by about the amount of time it takes to blink.

Seems like nothing big to me, but with NASA planning to send astronauts back to the moon in the next few years (where they'll find a big "Neil was here" sign, with a happy-face drawing), it could be the difference between computer synchronization being correct or off.

It could also lead to astronauts tuning in a few microseconds early for the kickoff of an NFL game that they thought started at 1:05 p.m. because they didn't adjust for lunar time. The result? Our astronauts could be forced to watch a few microseconds of an inane pregame show instead of just the game.

That would be lunacy. (Get it? Lunacy?)

Apparently, this is a long play by those involved, who assume that at some point there will be commercial activity on the moon and that countries will mine for resources there (what could possibly go wrong, other than changing the makeup of the moon, leading to disastrous tidal activity on Earth?).

It's unclear whether there will be separate time zones on the moon or if it will all be the same time ("It's zero dark thirty. Like it always is," someone stuck on the dark side of the moon – the actual place, not the Pink Floyd album – will say while snickering and being accused of making to the loss of the 58 microseconds that day even worse with dumb jokes.)

While this seems like a lot of work for something that doesn't really matter, I'll again trust the scientists, with a correct amount of skepticism.

Is it a coincidence that this idea is being floated at the same time space tourism is becoming a bigger thing? Is it possible that someday we'll have scheduled flights to the moon? Is it possible that the companies who plan to do that are playing three-dimensional chess and pressuring the White House to create a separate lunar time zone so that when we complain about our flights to the moon being late, they can say that we're actually on time if we calculate it by lunar time?

Who knows? All I know is that lunar time will be slightly different than Earth's time, giving moon people time to watch old NFL games with that legendary Houston Oilers quarterback.

You know, Warren Moon. Get it? Moon?

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

Commemorate the dates in two iconic songs this week

Happy holiday season to those who observe.

This week commemorates the anniversaries for two legendary story songs of the late 1960s and early 1970s. Monday is June 3, the day the protagonist of Bobbie Gentry's "Ode to Billy Joe" discovered that Billy Joe McAllister jumped off the Tallahatchie Bridge. And Thursday is June 6, the day the truck convoy started that inspired the famed CB-trucker song "Convoy," by C.W. McCall.

What a week!

This week competes with the 18-day period in September from Sept. 3 (the day the father of the protagonist in the Temptations' "Papa Was a Rolling Stone" died) and Sept. 21 (the night that Earth Wind and Fire reminds us to remember).

This week is worth a deeper dive, starting with Billy Joe McAllister's fatal jump off the bridge.

The story takes place on Choctaw Ridge in Mississippi and most historians believe Billy Joe likely jumped June 2, since June 3 was the day the song's protagonist's mother dropped the news of his plunge during the fateful family lunch that included black-eyed peas, biscuits and apple pie.

The song tells a sad and unclear story about the relationship between the girl in the song and Billy Joe, who liked to drop something (most likely flowers) off the bridge into the water. Did she know Billy Joe was contemplating suicide? Did he actually die? The song implies Billy's jump was fatal, but never says it explicitly.

But Monday (and perhaps Sunday), we remember Billy Joe. And the muddy waters off the Tallahatchie Bridge. And the protagonist, whose father soon died of a virus and whose brother married within a year and bought a store in Tupelo, Mississippi.

Three days later comes another major song holiday, the night that a truck driver and C.B. radio operator  "Rubber Duck" started a convoy across the United States, starting just east of Los Angeles ("shaky town") on Interstate 10 with his Kenworth truck, loaded with logs

Their protest was apparently against the newly instituted 55 mph speed limit on freeways and their destination was the New Jersey shore – 3,000 miles away. What starts as three truckers ultimately becomes 1,000. They reach Flagstaff, Arizona, then Tulsa, Oklahoma before they run into trouble. They then head to Chicago, where the Illinois National Guard is called up along with armored cars and other vehicles, including tanks and jeeps. The truckers crash through and keep going to the Jersey Shore, crashing the toll booths at 98 mph.

While celebrating the convoy (and wondering if they drove into the Atlantic Ocean), we should remember something else. There's no way this ended June 6. The convoy started in Los Angeles June 6 and headed east, which means in addition to the time it takes to drive coast-to-coast (Google tells me that with today's speed limits, it would take 41 hours to drive from Los Angeles to the Jersey Shore), they lost an additional three hours due to the time zones. So if they left Los Angeles at 10 p.m. June 6 (it started "by the light of the moon," so it was after dark), they wouldn't arrive at the Jersey Shore until early June 9.

Therefore, we should commemorate Billy Joe McAllister's ill-fated jump June 2-3 and the convoy trucker's cross-country dash June 6-9.

What a week! Be sure to drop some flowers off a bridge into muddy waters, then tell someone to "let them trucker's roll, 10-4!"

Happy holidays.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.