Get Your Grill On

Today, we welcome Gary Goldblatt from Pigtrip.net to Get Your Grill On. Gary has a great perspective on the whole barbecue scene. He’s done it all, cook, judge, competitor, restaurant reviewer and now food writer. I look forward to his posts. Take it away Gary…

(Left) IQue at the New England BBQ Championship, 2005

It’s been said that competition barbecue is the next great American sport; many who are involved think it already is. So is it a sport, and if not now, can it ever be? If it is, it’s the only sport that doesn’t burn calories. The final answer, of course, is a matter of opinion. After all, we can’t get a room full of random people to agree on whether bowling, golf and figure skating are sports (or who has the best barbecue restaurant in any given city). But just for fun, I’ll explore the topic.

Smoking and Drinking

According to a popular school of thought, any activity that can be performed while smoking and drinking can’t possibly be a sport. This argument is usually used to exclude “social” sports like softball and bowling, and by smoking we’re talking about nicotine, not wood. Based on the collection of barbecue personalities I’ve encountered, it would certainly exclude barbecue as well. But I’m not sure if I buy that argument. Basically, it’s a matter of whether there are lulls in the “action” that allow smoking and drinking. If Keith Hernandez can smoke a butt between innings of a baseball game, Mike Davis can smoke a butt while smoking butts. If Vlade Divac (chain smoker) and David Wells (smoker, drinker, fat guy, you name it) don’t disqualify their respective sports from full-fledged sport-hood, then barbecue can’t not be considered a sport on this basis.

The Figure Skating Comparison

One sport that routinely gets trashed for not being a “real sport” is figure skating. Though it’s considered a “feminine” sport (be the skaters male or female), you probably can’t find a sport that compares closer to the more macho sport of competition barbecue. In skating, you have the required lutzes and salchows; in barbecue you have the required chicken, ribs, pork and brisket. In both, the success of the participants comes down to their ability to wow the judges with a combination of competence and flair. In figure skating, little things like the ruffles of the costume may have that subliminal effect on the scoring. In barbecue, the ruffles of the lettuce in the garnish may just be the thing that pushes the winner over the top. Neither really has anything to do with what’s truly being judged, but skaters and pitmasters will swear by their importance. Unlike basketball (where it’s obvious whether the ball went through the hoop) and football (where it’s fairly obvious whether the ball crossed the goal line), skating and barbecue are subject to the whims and opinions of the judges.

Auto Racing and Fat Guys

Another sport that has its detractors is auto racing. Here you have the fat guy argument: if a fat guy like AJ Foyt can do it, how could it be a sport? You also have the equipment argument: who wins has less to do with driving skills than who simply happens to have the fastest car. Anyone who’s been to a barbecue competition knows that I need not address the fat guy argument, so I’ll move on to equipment. I’ve seen contests won using $5000 smokers and huge trailers. I’ve also seen contests won using $200 smokers and a couple of lawn chairs. There should be no argument whatsoever that the skill of the BBQ chef is more important than the equipment.

With auto racing, the camp that considers it a sport argues that world class drivers have years of training (ditto world class barbecue chefs). And that the drivers withstand intense heat for long periods of time (so do barbecue chefs, for longer periods of time). And that they possess lightning fast reflexes (anyone who’s seen me dodge tumbling lit chimneys and falling knives knows that’s also true in barbecue). And that it takes guts (just watch the competitors as they gamble with an untested sauce or go for a risky box presentation).

The Golf Comparison

Then there’s golf. Tiger notwithstanding, there’s plenty of skill but not a lot of excitement in this sport. Or athleticism. Watch any barbecue team load a smoker onto their trailer after a long, grueling competition and you’ll see more athleticism in ten minutes than any golfer ever exhibited on a full 18 holes. John Daly might be a decent golfer, but comes across more like a barbecue guy than an athlete. The way I see it, if golf is a sport, then barbecue has to be a sport.

The Baseball Comparison

Baseball has its share of fat guys (the aforementioned Wells), and even the skinny guys don’t have to exert themselves that much. The thing this sport has most in common with barbecue is the stealing of signs. When a runner is on second base, the catcher’s top secret signals must be changed to prevent the opposition from knowing what pitch is coming. In competition barbecue, recipes must be hidden, rubs must be shrouded and sauces must never be discussed. But that doesn’t stop the peeking that goes on.

The Wrestling Comparison

How about wrestling? You’ve got the gaudy championship belts that are displayed before each bout, just like the gaudy trophies that each competitor displays in the team tent. In wrestling, bragging is as much of the sport as the wrestling itself. Trust me, it’s the same with barbecue competitors; they like to brag. Does that make it a sport? Probably not, but it makes it fun.

Refs and Judges

In basketball and hockey, certain referees are known for their tendency to call a tight game, while others have a reputation for “letting the boys play.” Knowing the refs affects game strategy. In barbecue, even though the teams don’t know the judges’ identities, there is some occasional jockeying based on perceived preferences. If the judges like sweet and you present hot, you might not do so well.

In baseball, certain umpires are known for their stingy or generous strike zones, and pitchers pitch accordingly. In barbecue, there are some stingy judges and generous judges. In theory, it all evens out in the end, but getting the right judges for the right categories can mean the difference between going home with trophies and going home with nothing. Say your strengths are chicken and ribs, and those are your best chances for trophies. If you get a few generous judges for those categories while your chief competition gets stingy ones, assuming you both did well, that difference could put you over the top. If your Achilles heel is brisket and you get generous judges for that category, the extra boost is wasted.

Going Mainstream

Suppose we just agree to overlook the two main obstacles—that the athletic requirements are minimal and that the outcome is determined by judges’ opinion—and just call barbecue a sport. Can it ever go mainstream, the way NASCAR has in the last decade? I say no, and a look at some other sports backs me up. Soccer for decades has tried to penetrate the consciousness of American sport with no success. After Pelé, Kyle Rote and David Beckham, how many soccer players can you name? Professional surfer Kelly Slater can dominate his sport, he can win 8 world titles and he can date Pamela Anderson and Gisele Bundchen, but he’s never appeared on the cover of Sports Illustrated. Ice hockey has been relegated to the Versus network, which ironically also airs barbecue competitions.

Spectator Sport?

There will always be spectators for baseball, football, basketball, boxing and all of the unquestioned real sports. I can’t see the attraction, but there seems to be a fair supply of spectators for marginal sports like bowling, too. Are there spectators in barbecue? Take away the family members and the people looking for a free snack, and you’re not left with many. I think this will change though, thanks to the Food Network. There’s something very exciting about watching a chef—whether it’s Mario Batali on Iron Chef or Adam Perry Lang on that same show or live at the Hudson Valley Rib Fest—battle the final ticks of the clock and submit a kick-ass dish under pressure. But that excitement can only go so far given the logistics of the event: you can’t watch every competitor simultaneously, and you can’t watch the entire event.

From a spectator standpoint, you could argue that American Idol is as much of a sport as competition barbecue. Only Paula, Randy and Simon get to judge, but everyone gets to watch. And everyone gets to deliver an armchair opinion based on what they just heard. With barbecue, only the judges get to see and taste what’s presented, and they only get to taste 6 entries for each category. In-person spectators might get lucky enough to try some samples, but (just like the judges) they’re not going to taste everything that’s submitted. Television spectators not only suffer from seeing only a small subset of the entries, but they also will never taste them, making it hard to form a real opinion. With Iron Chef, you can declare a preference for Mario’s lamb with fennel over Bobby’s lamb with chipotle vinaigrette, based strictly on appearance. With barbecue, the contestants are cooking the same things with only slight twists, so creativity takes somewhat of a back seat to craftsmanship. Here, not being able to see and taste the entries is a deal-breaker for me.

So, is barbecue a sport? I say no. But that doesn’t mean it’s not a helluva lot of fun.