Defending the crown

It's good to be the king.

At last year's Taste of Colorado ice cream eating contest, I was the new kid. With a rag-tag team that consisted of myself, my 23-year-old nephew John, and a father and his 7-year-old son, we took home the title with a Kobayashi-esque performance. With the father and his son suffering brain freezes in the first 20 seconds, John and I took over, devouring the half gallon of ice cream in 67 seconds.

Flash forward to Sept. 3, 2007 – It's a year later, John and me have a new team. It's a team we trust because it's family.

Enter Nick, my 14-year-old nephew who shares his uncle's competitive spirit, and Dom, John's younger brother and part of the 2005 championship team who won in 53 seconds. It was only appropriate that our team name was the Minutemen.

We arrived at the Taste with a bit of a swagger, marching through the crowd exuding confidence. We didn't need to go through the qualifying rounds – we were the defending champions.

As we waited with the half-gallon of ice cream sitting on our table, my adrenaline was pumping. Like a caged tiger, I marched around, staring at the cold, sweet obstacle that was presented in front of me. The other teams slowly disappeared from my vision, as my only goal was to reach the bottom of the plate.

The countdown began.

Five.

I could hear my heart beating as I stood less than an inch away from the ice cream.

Four.

I could hear the cheers from my other family members who sat just to the right of me.

Three.

I could see the texture on the surface of the ice cream. Bumpy and filled with ridges, like a picture of mountains from space.

Two.

The sounds slowly dissipate. I could see Dom's eyes on the opposite side of the ice cream. Focused, fierce – I knew he was on his game.

One.

Absolute silence.

Go!

I dug into the chilly mound with my mouth, taking in as much as I possibly could. The cold reminded me of my qualifying round the year before. I got up and switched with Nick and watched him take down a couple of bites. Still inexperienced and wearing braces, he ate as much as he could.

I went back down and broke toward the center. The ice cream was much harder than I had remembered. Was this really the same substance I had eaten the year before?

A minute passed and I knew that this ice cream proved to be a far more difficult challenge than last year. I took out more chunks and got back up. None of my teammates were going back for more. In a second that seemed like an eternity, I swallowed the vanilla dessert in my mouth and attacked it once again. Dom sensing the same urgency, followed suit.

I raised my head and looked down the table. The other teams were doing a good job with their ice cream, staying close with us.

“Oh no, the Minutemen are falling behind,” the announcer said.

Suddenly my competitive nature kicked in and my mind went blank. For the next 10-15 seconds, I went after the one-fifth of the half-gallon or so that remained. When I stood back up, most of the bottom of the plate was visable. That's when John and Dom went in for the kill.

Covered in vanilla ice cream, we were victorious. It is said that nothing is sweeter than the first championship.

Perhaps that's by someone who's only won one. This is the start of a dynasty.