What this story really needs is the "Rocky" soundtrack. A group of dedicated athletes hits bottom, and then, with grit, perseverance -- and in this case, a plate of spaghetti -- finds redemption.

The drama played out Saturday at Festa Italia, the city's largest ethnic festival, held annually at McKee Farms Park in Fitchburg and sponsored by the Italian Workmen's Club.

The festivities include a softball tournament, and one of this year's entrants was a team of guys in their early 20s who play regularly in an organized league in Fitchburg but who are not, themselves, highly organized.

"We didn't even have a pitcher," Eivind Hesselberg said Tuesday. Hesselberg, 21, grew up in Oregon, like most members of the team.

They entered the tournament on word that the entry fee included a couple of pitchers of beer after each game. It turned out most of the entries were serious, tournament-tested teams. Our heroes -- in their regular league they are sponsored by Madison Top -- tried hard but were severely trounced in every game.

"We lost them all with flying colors," said Jake Kneebone, 22, one of Hesselberg 's teammates. The "mercy" rule, which ends a game early when it is out of hand, was employed twice.

They were sitting around, digesting their humiliation and the last of the beer, when they were approached by a Festa Italia organizer named Ross DePaola.

In hindsight, it was a fortuitous meeting. The softball players were hungry and low on cash. DePaola was looking for entries in the Festa Italia spaghetti-eating contest.

Festa Italia's spaghetti-eating contest dates back to the 1970s, when the winner was the contestant who could eat the most spaghetti. According to longtime festival organizer Joe "Buffo" Cerniglia, the rules were changed after two competitors ate themselves sick one year. Now the winner is the contestant who can eat one plate of spaghetti the fastest.

It should be noted that spaghetti has never been one of the easier courses in competitive eating circles. I can cite a 1962 profile of "Broadway glutton" Ken MacSaren by the legendary New York sportswriter Jimmy Cannon.

MacSaren was preparing for a match to be televised on Jackie Gleason's TV show when Cannon caught up with him. Cannon asked MacSaren if it was true he had once eaten 75 hot dogs, a jar of mustard and six pots of tea in 45 minutes.

"I wasn't even hungry," MacSaren said.

At another event, Cannon noted, MacSaren ate 100 sandwiches, 50 egg rolls, 50 pieces of Danish pastry, five gallons of tea and 50 bottles of assorted soda pop. "I done that in 24 hours," MacSaren said. "I ain't just a sprinter."

Spaghetti, however, stopped the Great MacSaren. A New York restaurant had challenged him to eat five pounds of spaghetti at a table in its front window.

"I had to pull up after four and a half pounds," MacSaren said. "But they crossed me. They loaded the spaghetti up with five pounds of sauce. So I really ate more than five pounds."

MacSaren then provided the kicker: "I don't like spaghetti."

At least he had the use of a fork. When DePaola approached the softball players on Saturday, he neglected to mention that the Festa Italia spaghetti contest prohibits the use of one's hands. They must be clasped behind a contestant's back.

Hesselberg thought DePaola's offer was too good to be true. He told DePaola, "Sign me up." His buddy Kneebone was less certain, but when DePaola pointed out that first place paid $100 cash, Kneebone went along.

In the end, two other team members, Kyle Smith and Alex Wahlberg, joined them. They agreed to split the cash four ways if any of them won. At the picnic table, seven other contestants were waiting. The ballplayers sat down and grimaced when DePaola explained the no-hands rule.

When the signal came to start, Hesselberg said, "Everyone shoved their face into a plate of pasta."

He was somewhat disappointed with his performance.

"I didn't do too well," he said. "I was trying to enjoy the flavor of the sauce."

His buddy Kneebone, however, grabbed the early lead. "I just kind of gave it my all," Kneebone said.

Cerniglia, the former Italian Workmen's Club president, was watching at table side and afraid Kneebone might not finish. "He was struggling with the last few mouthfuls," Cerniglia said.

In the end, Kneebone emerged victorious, in a time estimated at a minute and a half. He split the money with his pals and later somebody noted that Kneebone has dazzled diners in other places. "He's legendary at Chinese buffets all over the city."

Kneebone was asked if Cerniglia was right: Did he falter a bit at the end? "I had a piece of lingiune stuck in my throat," he said.

Jake, it was spaghetti.

"Well," he said, "it was one long noodle, I'll tell you that."

Contact Doug Moe at 608-252-6446 or dmoe@madison.com.