No guts, no glory

Like Joltin’ Joe’s 56-game hitting streak, you knew it had to come to an end eventually.

In the pit of your stomach, you knew that Takeru Kobayashi would choke — literally or figuratively. For six long years, he had outeaten anyone or anything at the annual Fourth of July Nathan’s hot dog competition on Coney Island.

Finally, he met his master. Joey Chestnut, an up-and-coming challenger on the professional eating circuit, downed 66 dogs ’n’ buns in 12 minutes. It wasn’t pretty — really, it wasn’t — but it was efficient.

Poor Kobayashi set a personal record of 63 — 9½ over his previous max — but it was three dogs shy of a championship load. He actually put away a few more, but he had what is tactfully referred to as a “reversal.” That unfortunate upchuck ratcheted his final total back to a mere 63.

But, oh the humanity … and the heartburn. The carnivorous competitors were actually tied with 60 dogs with one minute to go. Yet true champions emerge in the fourth quarter or the ninth inning, and Chestnut was determined to prove that he deserved a table in the Food Hall of Fame.

He just kept funneling franks into his gigantic gullet, and soon Kobayashi was kaput.

This year, it would be the 23-year-old Californian who proudly strapped on the mustard yellow belt that is the Stanley Cup of chowhounds.

If that spectacle didn’t bring a tear to your eye (or a rumble to your tummy) you’re made of sterner stuff than me. It was a food fight for the ages, a gut-check moment that will never be forgotten.

… Until next year, when the rematch is set, and it’s time to either belly up to the bar or let the butterflies in your stomach take over.

Does Chesnut — and his mid-section — have what it takes? Has Kobayashi cratered, or will he gobble more glory?

We’ll all know in 365 days. Until then, I’ll take mustard on mine, not catsup. And one is OK. I can put away 60 of ’em too … but it will take me a couple of months.