(Published in Fauquier Times-Democrat, Fall 2011, as part of coverage for Fauquier County Fair)
WINNERS

9-13 years:  Theodore Wisinski, 11

14-17 years: Courtney Sutherland, 17

18 and up:  Christy Sutherland

 

In being tasked with covering a competition at the Fauquier County Fair, I wasn’t sure what to expect.

I was given three choices: pie eating, hot dog eating, or watermelon seed spitting.

During research, I discovered that regurgitation was cause for disqualification in the hot dog and pie eating contests, making it easy for me to choose seed spitting on the 15th.

The rules were simple: grab a seed from a piece of watermelon in your mouth, spit it out as straight and far as you can, and repeat a second time.

I considered a couple of ideas that could lead to success.

As a soccer player, I know how to maneuver my upper body to head the ball in a specific direction, and I know vocalists use a method to reach high notes by blowing air out faster.  Both tactics were easily applicable to seed spitting.

But on Friday, I observed the spitters before me for a different approach.

I watched as excited and ambitious youngsters of the 9-13 year old division spat their hearts out first, with shots ranging from six to eighteen feet.

“That’s some mighty good spittin’ there!” said Jim Hankins, one of the coordinators.

Eleven year old Orlean native Theodore Wisinski came out on top, firing a seed out 20 feet three inches.

“My mom(Kate) did it last year and won,” said Theordore, “but she’s not here today.  So I tried it and won.”

Rising senior Courtney Sutherland of Marshall took the 14-17 division with a 22 foot five inch spit.

“My mom wanted me to try it,” she said.  “She’s done it before.  She’s a veteran.”

Standing next to her daughter, Christy Sutherland beamed when I turned to her, and said confidently, “We’re bringing both those trophies home!”

As fate would have it, Mrs. Sutherland stepped to the line before me, and fired a seed 26 feet and one inch, nearly clearing the tarp.

My spirits dropped slightly: I had to fire a seed from my mouth over the length of the tarp into the grass to win.

I stepped up, picked a seed out of my piece of watermelon, let it sit on my tongue, and then shot it out, my jerking as if I were about to vomit.

“Six feet, nine inches,” yelled Hankins, reading he tape measure.

My spirits dropped further, but I wasn’t done.  With one more shot, I looked to the edge of the tarp on the other side, and imagined the seed flying from my mouth and grazing that edge before falling in the blades of grass beyond it.

Lubing the second seed with my tongue, I steadied myself, and bent backwards as far as I could.  Inhaling deeply through the nose, I quickly threw my upper body forward, allowing my head to bobble like a crash-test dummy as I unleashed the seed.

Mr. Hankins saw it land and measured the distance.

“Eighteen feet, seven inches!  Your mother’ll be proud!”

I wasn’t sure if my mother would actually be proud, but I was proud of myself with my effort, which earned me the fifth place ribbon.

It was a different experience, but definitely enjoyable as it was one of the legitimately friendliest competitions I’ve ever taken part in, because I not only took hope a complimentary ribbon of success, but also met new people and enjoyed a piece of watermelon.