Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas Part III
14 February 2007If you're new here, you may want to subscribe to my RSS feed. Thanks for visiting!
The deadlift is an incredibly easy lift to understand: pull a loaded barbell from the floor to lockout in a smooth and uninterrupted motion. Pavel and Brett were competing in Vegas at the National AAU push/pull (bench press/deadlift) competition. Each man would need a few warm-up attempts before taking the first of three competition deadlifts. At around 3 on Saturday afternoon we finished up the last of Pavel’s super-nuclear coffee and wandered downstairs from his room to the competition meet site; the powerlifting competition was being held in one of the numerous casino rooms in the same hotel. We headed down to the meet site and found some good seats. Now we got down to the business of “hurry up and wait” that precedes every national level event. The pace of the competition was glacial: each lift that required a weight change took an eternity as the placid and seemingly medicated head judge took his sweet time telling disinterested boy plate-loaders what combination of plates were needed to assemble 100 kilos or 250 kilos, or whatever. What normally is quick and easy was – at least in this competition - a tremendous effort that apparently never got easier. It damn sure never got quicker; normally it takes 1-minute to segue from one lifter to the next, but at this competition it was taking 3-5 minutes per lift. From a coaches perspective the unexplainable and consistent delays threw timing off dramatically. Finally the competitive moment of truth was at hand. It was time for Pavel and Brett to turn pro. Some do and some don’t: some rise to the competitive occasion: most melt in the white hot spotlight of athletic competition. To say Pavel’s approach to deadlifting is unorthodox would be a massive understatement. He is a unique person and has naturally developed an off-beat approach, a signature technique, for his competitive lifts.
Classically when an athlete is deadlifting in competition and if they anticipate a 520-pound deadlift they begin the warm-up process (designed to raise the temperature of cold muscles and grease neurological nerve pathways) with say 135×12. The then at 5-minute intervals the lifter would take 225 for perhaps 3 to 5 reps, then 315 for 3, perhaps 405×1 and 455×1 before a 1st attempt with say 479. Pavel lay backstage flat on his back, quiet, oblivious to the surrounding cacophony, seemingly asleep. When the spirit moved him he leapt to his feet and pulled 430 for 1. No warm-up, no nothing. He immediately lay back down in total chill mode. About 10-minutes before the competition started he took another 430-pound attempt, this one more explosive than the 1st effort. Again he lay back down. With only five athletes before him, Pavel roused himself and began to focus. When two lifters were ahead of him, Pavel began a serious psyche-up. When a single lifter was ahead of him he donned a set of headphones and listened intently to the music for perhaps 30-seconds. No even long enough to hear a complete song. He handed me his headphones and charged the lifting platform in a state of pure psyche. He ripped 479-pounds to completion far more aggressively and with far greater authority than either of his 430-pound backstage warm-up efforts. Brett made an easy 501 opener after methodically working his way through a classical deadlift warm-up procedure. Pavel moved to 501 on his next attempt and that too was pulled with authority – this despite his psyche-up procedure being derailed be the inordinately long amount of time it took four tired kids and one lackadaisical head judge to successfully change a poundage from 463 (the previous lifter’s deadlift) to 501 for Pavel’s second attempt.
In my little garage gym, my 13-year old could have changed the bar weight from 465 to 500 inside 30-seconds without rushing. It took this crew a full five minutes and in those five minutes the patented Pavel Psyche, a huge component in his arsenal, deflated. Faulty timing caused his 501 lift to suffer: he pulled the poundage with pure muscle; his trademark explosiveness, hamstrung by mistimed psyche, was down 40%. Brett pulled 541 pounds with picture perfect technique on his second attempt. He took the lead in the 181 pound class. Pavel was first up for his final deadlift. He was determined to get his psyche right on this attempt but the slow-motion parade actually got slower. The judging and loading was devolving, it was an unmitigated disaster: the snail’s pace and miscommunication caused the now-volatile, psyched-up Russian to prematurely charge the platform. The weight loaders were leisurely leaving the lifting platform when Pavel bounded onto the platform in a psyche-trance so deep he saw and heard nothing - I know for a fact he heard nothing because he had himself so psychologically jacked-up that he stormed the platform still wearing his musical earphones….it was a lifting scene I shall never forget…the slow-motion weight changers slowly vacating the lifting platform…these were male teens who stop and talk or rib one another, totally detached from powerlifting or deadlifting…they are here because someone got them to commit their time. As the boys were lazily vacating the platform the obese head judge slumped in his chair with sleepy dreamy eyes half closed. Suddenly a crazed looking man with Charles Manson eyes charges from the wings - his manic animation cause all eyes to follow the darting figure as he bull-rushed the barbell.
The boy loaders were still standing next to the just loaded bar on the platform. The crazed man (“He looks like an assassin!” The guy next to me says) with the wild eyes was at the barbell and dropping down, obviously getting ready to pull the barbell upward - this despite the fact the sleepy referee hasn’t issued the requisite “Bar Ready!” command signifying to the next lifter that it is his turn. Suddenly the spotters yell in unison. They are the first to collectively grock that this dude was going to pull this barbell RIGHT NOW! WHOA! STOP THE MUSIC! They yell in unison and the sleepy, droopy head judge suddenly springs erect, bolt upright - a crisis has erupted! A real emergency is taking place during his slothful, placid, peaceful reign! Now all his training and expertise would be needed to avert a procedural disaster. He actually stood up out of the chair for the first time in the eight hours I’d been watching him. This amazing feat, akin to the 98-pound woman lifting a car off a toddler, was made more all the more dramatic by an amazing discovery: The Pavelizer, having launched his fail-safe psyche-up frenzy a tad prematurely, had forgotten to remove his headphones playing his psyche-up music. He was attempting to deadlift over 500-pounds while wearing headphones - and no ordinary headphones - these had blinking glow lights that shot down the side of headpiece that connected one ear piece to the other: bolts of light shot around Pavel’s head in a tight arc as he prepared to pull the poundage…it was surreal and hypnotic.
STOP HIM! The head referee screamed; his flaccid face flush and crimson. He waved his arms and looked ready to keel over from a coronary thrombosis - the spotters yelled picked up on the crisis and yelled, “SOMEONE STOP HIM!” This was odd because they were within arms length and the logical people to “stop him” – yet none of the boys wanted to touch the Mad Russian Septemberist – he might assassinate them or beat the piss out of them…I guess they were right to be afraid of this crazed Russian Commando Psycho wearing the glittering headband trying to lift almost 250 kilos. They shrank back in collective fear. The four officials sitting at a table adjacent to the platform were the craftiest of the lot and the first to see what was happening…”HE’S WEARING HEADPHONES - HE CAN’T HEAR YOU!” The referees shouted as they stood and pointed. The PA announcer picked up on it and announced to the audience – “He’s wearing headphones! He can’t hear us!” Pavel pulled the weight oblivious to all the terrorist hubbub he’d unleashed. The weight was too much and he dropped the bar and turned to walk off. Only then did I remove the headphones from his head. Being a great coach and noting that the 1-minute time period had not elapsed I yelled, “He’s still got time on the clock - can he have another attempt?!” NO! Came the immediate response twinged with much anger. “Wearing headphones and making a valid attempt at poundage DOES NOT entitle the lifter to a second chance!” Collectively the officials were pissed: they suspected Pavel’s glittering headphone was some counterculture statement or protest: somehow this “event” challenged the sanctity and piousness of the power competition. In actuality he was just a guy that had gotten so fired up he forgot – but the men in the blue jackets sensed some deep ploy was afoot – perhaps some weird protest akin to the 1968 Mexico City Olympic Games Black Power salute given on the victory podium by John Carlos and Tommy Smith…
After the hubbub died down, Brett missed 552. Brett the 181-pound class champion. Pavel took silver. A good day for the boys. Afterwards we decided to grab a steak at highly recommended local joint off the beaten casino path. I’d had enough excitement for one day. I shall never forget the sight of the crazed Russian with the electric headpiece charging that platform and the riot that ensued.
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