What if I told you that TMS bartender Rich and I have rolled all the greatest physical, mental, and emotional challenges from those fields into one special custom maki roll of pure iron will? Surely it would be the greatest sport of all time. And so it is. BEHOLD!
The skyscraper of the human mind that is Knuckle Sandwich is based upon twin pillars of undeniable truth. To wit:
- Physical violence is a primal act that stirs the spirit and angries up the blood - the purest distillation of sport.
- Eating contests are the horrifying manifestation of man's darkest nature.
We've combined these things to forge a sport that plays to all regions of man's primordial Ape-Brain. It's the ultimate contest of gentlemanly fortitude. It begins with a challenge, one man to another. Twelve ounce boxing gloves, a standard ring, and the sandwich of the challenged duelist's choice.
"What's that?" you say. "A sandwich?"
The challenge is simple: 60 second rounds of boxing, followed by 30 second rounds of eating. To win:
- Finish the sandwich in full.
- Make your opponent throw up.
That's it. It's so simple - yet like chess, there are many branching paths to victory or defeat. The head is well padded, and gloves are 12 oz. So battering one's opponent about the head isn't the clearest path to victory. Yet focusing entirely on eating could leave one vulnerable to the vomitous power of the left hook. Think you can chow down then dance away from repeated body punches? Good luck with that, Punch Idiot.
Can you eat? Can you fight? Can you do both reasonably well? Then welcome to Knuckle Sandwich.
Inaugural Championship Divisions
- Hot Pastrami with Spicy Mustard (Knuckle Sandwich Classic)
- Nashville Hot Chicken (Knuckle Sandwich Diablo)
- Chicken Tinga Tortas (Bocadillo Nudillo)
- Lettuce Wraps (Gluten Free Knuckle Sandwich)
- Battle for the Galaxy (1 LB Astronaut Ice Cream, Ring is a Trampoline)
- 6' Party Sub (Knuckle Sandwich, Heavyweight Division)
- Endless Pieogi Hell (Golonka Kanapkę)
- Knucklopoulous Sandwichipillos (Gyro Brawl)
Names will be made. Legends will be forged. As intense as MMA, but without all the sweaty wrestling and sexually confused man-boy fans. A thousand years from now, when Mike Trout is naught but a set of bones in the Space Smithsonian, the Sultans of Mars will wildly throw their Mars Dollars at the greatest eating and hitting and eating-hitting champions the solar system has to offer. Torbog Ricketts IX will finally hire TheoBot 9000 to rebuild the proud MarsCago Fighting Stable to the glories of the past. Past, present, and future will all rush to claim glory in a sport built for the screaming rush toward dominance that is the heart of mankind. And you were here to witness its birth.
Float like a butterfly, sting like a ham-laden Kathy Bates. Make way for Knuckle Sandwich!