On Friday, while moviegoers were crowding into Disney's "Pearl Harbor" to
 relive Japan's infamous sneak attack, George Shea grabbed a whistle and
 a stopwatch and hoped to stave off another kind of Japanese invasion.

Shea -- in his dual role as Nathan's publicist and unabashed keeper of
 the flame of American hot dog-eating supremacy -- kicked off the annual
 competitive eating season last week with a training session featuring
 some of the sorriest troops a commanding officer has ever tried to lead.

As everyone knows, Japan's gustatory gladiators have dominated America at
 competitive eating's flagship event for four of the last five years,
 pushing aside fabled U.S. hot dog eaters Ed "The Maspeth Monster"
 Krachie, "Hungry" Charles Hardy and Andrew "The Real Meal" Becker like
 Godzilla pushing aside an office building.

So this year, Shea isn't taking any chances, ordering his reinforcements
 to Nathan's on Stillwell Avenue for a grueling training session.

"Drop and give me 20!" Shea exhorted (though he and his recruits could
 only manage 6). "You think you can just SHOW UP on July 4 and beat the
 Japanese? You need to be in shape! Here, eat this."

Shea laid out plates of hot dogs for a two-minute, speed-eating drill --
 but the pitiful spectacle of America's "best" eaters struggling to wolf
 down a few franks only confirmed that our nation simply does not have
 the stomach to beat the Japanese this year. 

Sure, some onlookers were awed when Don "The Raisin" Lerman ate eight
 dogs in two minutes -- but veteran frankophiles just shook their heads
 in shame. After all, Lerman's personal best is a mere 17 hot dogs and
 buns in the standard 12 -minute contest, a paltry figure considering
 that top Japanese eaters now routinely down 25.

"I am still gratified by what I saw today," said Shea, keeper of
 competitive eating's dizzying oral history, after the training session.
 "Like all Americans, I have despaired over the Japanese domination, but
 we are building a new Greatest Generation right here on the beaches of
 Coney Island."

Shea was doing what he does best: Putting a positive spin on an American
 tragedy. And coming as it did on the day "Pearl Harbor" opened (and
 bombed), it was fitting.

The parallels between Japan's hot dog domination of America and that
 nation's sneak attack on Pearl Harbor 60 yeas ago are no mere
 coincidence. "Pearl Harbor" may have flunked history, but here are the
 frank facts: In a sneak attack of his own, unknown Japanese eater
 Hirofumi Nakajima won the International Mustard Yellow Belt from Krachie
 in a one-on-one stuff-your-faceoff on Dec. 4, 1996 (a day, like Dec. 7,
 1941, that will live in infamy).

Nakajima successfully defended his crown in 1997 and 1998, before finally
 relinquishing the world title to Steve "Ralph" Keiner. But Keiner's win
 may have only lulled America into a false sense of security. Last year,
 the returning champ faltered, eating a mere 16 dogs while 100-pound
 eating phenom Kazutoyo "The Rabbit" Arai downed a new world record 25
 1/8 and carried the Mustard Yellow Belt off to Saitama.

Arai will defend his title on July 4 against guys like Lerman, Louis
 "Justice" Feingold and "Krazy" Kevin Lipsitz. None of those three
 "hopefuls" have ever eaten more than 17 dogs.

If ever there was a land in need of heroes, it is America.

Just ask songwriter Amos Wengler, the bard of Brooklyn. Every year,
 Wengler has penned a new tune to capture the mood of the contest.
 Typically, the songs -- such as "Hot Dog Time!" and his classic, "Hot
 Dogs, Hot Dogs" -- are upbeat and optimistic, filled with imagery of
 American domination.

But this year, Wengler's new song, "Where is the Belt?", is an achingly
 sad lament -- an elegy, really -- to America's waning power.

"Where is the belt/Have you seen our lost belt?" Wengler sings, choosing
 the dispirited key of A-minor, a subconscious way of showing concern
 that America has seen its best days.

"I don't think these guys can beat them," he said, gesturing towards
 Lerman and Lipsitz.

Today, Shea will travel to the Meadowlands race track for the first
 official competition of the season, hoping against hope that a hero will
 rise from the swamps of Jersey.

But no one is optimistic. So while "Pearl Harbor" is filling theaters,
 the wounded spirit of Pearl Harbor still lingers at Coney Island.

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