I'm fully prepared to take the plunge
by Pete Cunningham
*As printed August 1, 2007 in The Homer Index

With less than a week remaining until my first Hogstravaganza, it’s fair to say that I’m boiling over with excitement. The pig puns alone have been enough to fix a grin on my face for this and my next lifetime. I’m likely to not even make it to Saturday because someone will probably strangle me after I utter “don’t hog it all” 20 or so times at the VFW’s kickoff dinner.

Hopefully I do make it to Saturday because the event I’ve been looking forward to most kicks off that morning, the one and only Porky’s Plunge.

My amazement with Porky’s Plunge began in my second week on the job when we ran an advertisement for the event that read, “Porky’s Plunge is set up like a duck derby” with no further explanation provided. I had absolutely no idea what a duck derby was and, therefore, had no idea what Porky’s Plunge could possibly be. I also figured that not knowing these things would get me run out of town faster than any of my articles combined, so I kept my questions mum and simply let my imagination run wild.

At first I envisioned the plunge as actual pigs being put in knee deep water and racing toward a finish line, with the winning swine getting the prize of being served up for dinner later at the Lion’s Club barbeque. I also assumed that a duck derby was this, but with ducks. This line of thinking stemmed from the fact that when I hear “derby” I think of the Kentucky Derby and immediately transform into my degenerate gambling alter ego. I was very excited at the thought of running odds, parlaying bets, wearing an out-of-style hat while slapping tickets against my leg as a hoard of hogs raced down the home stretch.

I was disappointed to find out that a duck derby was merely a bunch of rubber duckies floating toward a finish line and that Porky’s Plunge was this, but with rubber hogs. I was equally disappointed at the discovery that I am in fact an idiot.

My disappointment was quickly replaced with amazement as I further researched the famous plunge. Jewel Burkwalt brought to my attention that one year the net that was supposed to catch the hogs broke, and that 1,000 little porkers were sent floating aimlessly up the creek only to be saved by the Barton family, who doubled as heroes of the day aboard their kayaks.

As you may have already gathered, my imagination is far too active and when I found out about this, it had a field day. I quickly imagined Homer legend and Olympic gold medal kayaker Greg Barton rushing from atop a hill with his kayak and gold medal in tow (if you had an Olympic gold medal you’d wear it everywhere too) to save the town from pending disaster after being summoned by a silhouetted Olympic banner across the sky. I didn’t even ask Jewel if by “Barton family” she had actually meant Greg, because I had already elevated him to Batman status in my mind.

Since that point, I have not been able to shake the image of Barton training for the Olympics with the lactic acid building up in his arms, his body telling his mind to quit, and Barton pushing on to the thought of, “Homer’s going to need me one day!” His inner monologue in this fantasy is in a very Bruce Wayne meets David Caruso meets Rocky Balboa fashion, adding to its drama and overall coolness. To then have his Olympic caliber talent translate directly into saving the village from 1,000 plastic pollutants put the perfect ending on my over-dramatized Hollywood version of Porky’s Plunge.

Such thoughts have motivated me to fully document my Hogstravaganza experiences in the hopes of witnessing athletic talent once again translate into fairy tale type heroics. My first stop, Porky’s Plunge, followed by my own version of the dip via the dunk tank downtown from 2-2:30. Let’s see if the latest provider of Homer athletic lore (the current, former and future baseball stars of course) can save the day by shutting me up for a bit.