In a year filled with unexpected twists and turns, 2023 has delivered yet another surprise: snail racing has been crowned the most exhilarating sport, with audiences around the globe clamoring for the slowest ticker-tape on earth. With the recent World Snail Racing Championships ending in a breathtaking photo finish, fans and newcomers alike have been left on the edge of their seats—or, more accurately, their knees.
The championship, held annually in the bustling metropolis of Longton, Lancashire, was the talk of the town this summer. Competitors from as far away as Madagascar and the lush rainforests of Costa Rica brought their finely-tuned mollusks to contend on the world stage. The event culminated in what experts are calling “the most gripping 24 minutes and 32 seconds in sports history.”
We spoke to gym leader and personal trainer Gloria Sslugger, who has been meticulously preparing her champion snail, Shelby, for this very moment. “I’ve been training Shelby with a rigorous regime of organic lettuce and Beyoncé tunes,” said Gloria. “His slime trails have set the standard for aerodynamic efficiency, minus a few unfortunate moments involving garden pebbles.”
The final race saw the slimiest of three-day marathons, culminating in a gripping showdown. It began with a false start when the competing snails misunderstood the firing of a popper party cannon as a call to retreat into their shells. However, once the race was properly underway, excitement built up incrementally as the two finalists, Shelby and the French-born Gaston Lagauche, approached the finish line—at what can only be described as a spectacular speed of two millimeters per hour.
The crowd erupted into cheers and polite golf claps as the snail-to-snail action unfolded at a pace shocking enough to warm even the coldest gastropod-loving hearts. Shelby, having trailed for a solid 23 minutes, enacted an unprecedented late surge by hitching a ride on a strategic vibration caused by a jubilant fan’s sneezing fit.
“They came in practically neck-and-neck,” recounted Chuck Mulleson, chief snail-thletics analyst for the event. “My camera crew had to switch to time-lapse mode just to catch the decisive moment.”
In an astonishing photo finish, Shelby’s tentacles barely grazed past Gaston, making him the champion by a nose—a snail’s nose, so nearly indistinguishable that instant replay had to be inserted into a 100-gigabyte PowerPoint to confirm the win.
With over a trillion social media mentions, snail racing has trailed well past water cooler chatter and is on its way to becoming a staple in sporting households. Young fans are dabbing out their light sabers for custom snail shells, and trading cards of the top-performing mollusks are already circulating playgrounds like wild bindweed.
The triumphant event’s emotional rollercoaster ensured that viewers would never look at their garden’s slow-scuttling residents in quite the same way again. Shelby’s shellebration—an unhurried munch on his favorite leaf and a dignified bask under artificial lighting—was streamed live to an audience of millions who now see him as an inspiration to go at their own pace, yet end up with their carrot.
As the snail racing fervor sweeps the globe, one thing is certain—a sport seemingly moving at the pace of continental drift has managed to catch up with humanity’s need for suspense, anticipation, and a truly hilarious photo finish.