The first thing I noticed upon entering the Very Yummy Asia Good Buffet was the heat. The place was hotter than a Japanese textile factory and two seconds after leaving the cold outside, I was stripping down to my boxers and rubbing ice cubes on my nipples. Glancing around, the buffet was nothing special. It held the type of late night scum that is typical of such venues. And apparently, on this particular night, I was that type of late night scum. I had gotten lost on the freeway between New Jersey and South Carolina and ended up at this hole-in-the-wall buffet in north-eastern Milwaukee. My Aderol high was wearing off and though I was hungry as a fox after being on the road for nearly 52 hours, the food looked more disgusting than appetizing, but I paid the $4.50 and piled up my plate all the same.

I had expected to eat my meal in peace, being it was almost 3 in the morning on a Wednesday, but what I found hidden in this out-of-the-way eatery was a treasure indeed. I’ve come across a lot of amazing things as a sports writer for ESPN, but I can honestly say that what I discovered at the Very Yummy Asia Good Buffet tops them all. Little did I know that upon entering this buffet, I had also entered the underground world of Championship Buffet Eating.

	Matt Cohen once ate three 72 oz. steaks in one hour. He spent the first 45 minutes having sex with his waitress.

I was halfway through my 3rd plate of disgustingness when the clock struck four. I almost pissed my pants when instead of a chime or a bell sounding to signify the hour, the Asian man at the front door just beat the shit out of a gong. I had assumed it was customary for the restaurant to bang the gong at the turn of every hour, but then I remembered that I had heard no gong at 3. I was about to inquire to the doorman about the significance of the 4AM gong when my attention was drawn to the back of the restaurant. Dozens of Asian men had entered the main room of the VYAGB, some clearing away tables, some carrying serving trays of what appeared to be quality buffet-style cuisine. I was too stupefied by the display of Chinese efficiency to notice the boatloads of people entering the front door, many wearing t-shirts bearing the mug of someone who at that time I did not know, but would soon come to know all too well.

I had noticed a picture of a 20-something Caucasian kid pinned up above the door when I entered the buffet. He was a handsome man, with a half-Jewish-looking face and eyes that pierced through the whole of you. Just catching a glimpse of his Zeus-like visage made me feel afraid. This was not a man to cross. I will admit that I found it a little strange that a picture of a young white man was posted in shrine-like fashion within what was obviously an Asian-owned establishment, but I didn’t give it another thought until I saw the very same face on the shirts of those poor souls who walked into the Asia Good Buffet at the ungodly hour of 4AM. After putting two and two together, I realized I was about to witness something so staggeringly mind-boggling that I might not live through the night to spin the yarn of my tale to my fellow sports writers and faithful readers. At that point in time, nothing mattered more than mentally recording every second of what would later be called the greatest night in Championship Buffet Eating history.

More than anything else, I was surprised by the seating capacity of the Asia Good Buffet. I’m pretty sure some fire codes were being broken, but, damn, there must have been upwards of 300 people in that joint. Everyone seemed excited about something, but as I do not speak any dialect of Chinese, what that something was remained a mystery to me until the gong was sounded again and a deathly quiet fell over the crowd.

I was about to just say screw it and konichiwah the fuck out of there to avoid any craziness when the front door swung open and in walked a clean-shaven kid wearing a sharp-looking tuxedo complete with a top hat and an ivory cane. What a character like this was doing in a place like the Asia Good Buffet was lost to me until I realized he possessed the same handsome mug printed on the t-shirts of those zany China-men who would not stop waving those damn flags with the letters MC on them. The crowd broke into an insane applause when he entered and at least a dozen women fainted (two of which would be later pronounced dead); it reminded me of something you’d see at a Michael Jackson concert in say 1987... or something along that line. Though I had no idea who this man was at the time, I too was awestruck simply by the way he carried himself- he was cool, confident, and classier than a French whore. I must say that my intense feeling of awe was overpowered by my realization that this son of a bitch had outclassed me, the classiest of the classy.

Before I knew what was happening, the crowd had hushed again, and the well-dressed man had begun to address the massive gathering at the Very Yummy Asia Good Buffet. “I am Matt Cohen, World Champion Buffet Eater. I am here today to set straight any non-believer, to prove I’m an overachiever that can eat more than any wide-receiver.” His on-the-spot rhyming skills were uncanny. The gong sounded again and the man known as Matt Cohen took his seat at the center table, surrounded by the raucous crowd.

Championship Buffet Eating is a complex art embraced by many but mastered by few. It is an individual sport with scoring based on a four-point scale: food choice, food placement, cleanliness of plate, and most importantly number of plates eaten. By law, judges and buffet cuisine must be Chinese. A contestant is given a stack of plates and a wide range of Chinese food to choose from. After the preliminary “rice round” as it is called, in which the contestant may fill his plate with only rice and one other food group (usually sesame beef), the buffet eater is on his own in terms of food choice and placement. Scoring after the preliminary round is multifaceted; judges must grade each plate on food choice (at least four food groups must be present, most commonly one rice or noodle, one sesame beef or Kung Pao chicken, one sushi or egg drop soup, and of course the crowd favorite- Crab Rangoon) as well as level of visual stunning (food must be positioned on the plate in such a way as to catch the eyes of the judges). More important than food choice or placement are the scores for plate cleanliness and number of plates completed. “You could knock my socks off with food placement, but if you can’t hack more than 12 plates, you can’t be a contender” says Don King, Championship Buffet Eating enthusiast and friend of Mike Tyson. When a contestant decides to stop eating, he must raise his right hand to signify the end of the round, at which point the Final Round is initiated in which the contestant must hold his food while being round-housed in the stomach by a trained ninja, also of Chinese origin. If the contestant fails to hold his food and consequentially ralphs, the contest is considered void and no awards are handed out. However, if the contestant is able to keep his food down, the contest is deemed valid and awards for marksmanship, culinary excellence, and the such sort are handed out at the discretion of the judges. As one can infer from the rules of the game, Championship Buffet Eating is not only a mental sport but a physical sport as well. A contestant must be mentally hardened to withstand the strain of dozens of plates of Chinese food as well as in peak physical condition to withstand the round-house blow in the final round.

In the history of Championship Buffet Eating, no contestant has performed as well as The Mequon Eating Swan: Matt Cohen. “An exquisite eater with supreme command of the buffet table, Cohen demands attention when he walks into the room,” says Michael Rud, Championship Buffet Eating scout and former buffet title-holder. Little did I know that I would see The Mequon Eating Swan in his greatest performance of all time in that quaint buffet in north-eastern Milwaukee.

Before I knew what was happening, Cohen had just kicked the shit out of the Rice Round and was already on his second plate. “His technique is amazing. I am always dazzled by the beauty of his plates,” said Riken Patel, a bystander sitting next to me. I too was dazzled by the beauty of his plates, but I had little time to enjoy them as they disappeared as soon as Cohen set to eating them. That night, Cohen’s performance was incredible, simply put. With the roaring crowd around him, The Mequon Eating Swan would go on to complete 68 plates that night, a world record that shattered the previous record of 56 (set by Cohen in early 2002). And when the ninja jumped down from the ceiling banisters and surprised Cohen with an unexpected side-kick to the gut, Cohen held his shit together. He held his shit together like holding his shit together was his job, and in many ways, it was.

What began as quick buffet stop for a weary traveler turned into my immersion into the world of Championship Buffet Eating and my introduction to the greatest buffet eater ever to live: Matt “The Mequon Eating Swan” Cohen, a legend in his own time. “I eat buffets for the good of everyone, but I win for myself.” True words from a man true to himself. One can only ask: Is Matt Cohen a man? Or a buffet-annihilating god?

Tom Van Rooy is a frequent contributor to Page 2, and his first book, "What's funnier than a dead baby?" will be released by the Lyons Press in 2006.