I mean no disrespect to the eight-time champion by asserting his feat was not quite as impressive as it seems. Nathan’s Famous franks (frankfurters) just ain’t what they used to be. They’ve shrunk over the years by, I reckon, over 25 percent, mostly in their girth. I had two in five minutes last month at the original Coney Island location. They were shamefully skinny. There was little of the signature juice and none of celebrated snap.

Back in my 20s I had a recurring Coney Island dream: I would close my eyes for a moment, then reopen them to see the world’s playground in its heyday. All the vanished arcades, rides and funhouses would be back. A Nathan’s frank would cost five cents. My grandfather would buy me two, when one was plenty.

Now I have a new dream: I close my eyes for a moment, then reopen them to see the Nathan’s incredible shrinking hot dog restored to its original, plump size. I buy two – one for my son and one for me. With our first bites the natural casing enclosing the franks breaks open. The plump hot dogs explode with juices and, we, with happiness.