The Very Fat Man

There once was a very fat man
Who lived in the town of Flann.
This man had a hobby of the glutenous sort.
He liked to eat, and considered it a sport.
Most sport requires action, but this didn't suit him at all.
So he took up eating and in the end, it was his downfall.

He started the day with 12 dozen eggs,
And bacon, and porridge, and beer by the keg.
And toast, and ham, and bread made of rye.
And for dessert, an extra large minced pie.

After his first meal was complete,
He sat there a second, then looked at his feet.
"There's no way I could even attempt to stand up!"
He said thoughtfully, as he re-filled his cup.
"I suppose I'll just have to sit here and feast."
And feast he did, not worried in the least.

Dinner was every bit as grand as the first meal.
What with all the sandwiches, soups, and veal.
And all the pasta, and pizza, and mead.
Ah yes, it was a grand meal indeed.

The very fat man, growing fatter by the minute,
Figured that since this was a sport, he was in it to win it.
"I'll eat and I'll eat and I'll never quit!"
Oh, if only he knew what he was about to get.

Supper consisted of a great many dishes,
Of casseroles, of desserts, of a variety of fishes.
Of breads, and meat, and food galore!
And yet, the man kept wanting more.

"I shall win!", the man said as he ate a lamp chop.
"I shall not Loo-", then POP!
The man who thought eating a game
Was very suddenly put to shame.

No longer is there a man of vast weight,
For he continued eating, thus sealing his fate.
He ate until he could hold no more,
And now we see that this game held no score.
He finished the food and the food finished him.
Now tell me, which of the two really did win?