From Enfeebled to Empowered: Part III
7 February 2006If you're new here, you may want to subscribe to my RSS feed. Thanks for visiting!
On Saturday morning I rolled out of bed. I was alone in my room at the Crowne Plaza hotel in Richmond and after making some lame coffee, walked to the hall where day II of the Amateur Athletic Union World Powerlifting Championships were being held. It was Saturday January 28th and I was maximally apprehensive as four of my ladies would be lifting, none had any athletic experience and in this pressure cooker environment I was not entirely certain some wouldnt succumb and fall apart. I checked the lifting schedule and all of my ladies would be going on at the same time: not good from a coachs viewpointtoo much happening all at once. The lifter instructions went on forever; the old timer running down the instructions was all folksy and homey and mellow and friendly. All the stuff that Mr. Intensity (me) wasnt up for in the freaking slightestthen I blew the first of many fuses. In the front row someone kept asking Mr. Folksy lifting questions and he was more than happy to go into lengthy technical explanations - this give and take was preventing me from getting my people warmed up. Connie, my female squad leader, came up to me and said, Betty is the one up front asking all the questions. WHAT! I ran to the front of the room and sure enough the constant questioner was none other than the beatific Betty. She was sitting smack in the middle of the front row asking questions like a shareholder quizzing the chairman of the board at an annual stockholders board meeting. I started waving my hands like a deranged street person trying to get her attention in order to tell her to shut her up so we could do our warm-ups done and get this war started.
BUT NOOOOO! Betty and Grandpa Jones from Hee-Haw were going on and on, she asking one simplistic question after another, he answering in his best, Aw shucks young lady, let me clarify this for you in excruciating, never-ending detail. Despite my crazed arm waving the two went on, totally oblivious until every question was asked and answered. Done, the official said, Okay well start in fifteen minutes. My blood was boiling and I was afraid to speak for fear of tearing someones head off. Things started to go from ominous to actually bad when Kirk was MIA, late showing up for warm-ups. He rolled in eventually and looked a little rough. He confided that hed done a little more midnight rambling after he and I split up late the previous evening. Thank God that steady-as-a-rock Julie was there. (Thank you girl for always being stolid and solid and sane and dependable) We began the warm-ups: Amira and Betty would be starting 3rd and 4th respectively while Jen and Connie would start deeper and later in the lifting order. I wasnt worried in the slightest about the latter two because they were great, deep consistent squatters with terrific competitive stability. Connie was born to compete and Jen was and is unflappable. Betty, God-love-her, was falling apart. I looked over and she is sitting on a folding chair adjacent to the warm-up platform shaking, literally shaking, tears were welling in the corners of her eyes. I walked over and asked if she was all right, Not really. Im really, really scared.
Here we goI thought. The imaginary meltdown was suddenly very real and underway right now. Amira needed to take her first warm-up so I set up the bar in the squat rack and I watched as she took the bar out of the squat racks and squatted: it was sky-high, not even close to legal depth. If she squatted like this on the platform she would be tossed out of the competition. Despite my telling her in real time, down, down, down further! She was frozen and stiff and unable to go low enough to get a squat passed. She took another warm-up and again she could not squat down close to a legal depth. How was that! She said with a blissful Happy Face. Super duper. I said, Well need to get the next one down a tad lower. I said. I glanced at Kirk. He grabbed my arm pulled me to the rear of the platform and said very seriously, OH MY GOD WERE ALL GONNA DIE! He hissed this in a low frantic voice and he wasnt joking. I had to turn away. It was time to have Betty take a warm-up. I couldnt believe what I saw. Mr. Folksy Officiator had made his way backstage to seek Betty out and offer some MORE FREAKING ADVICE! I eased over eyes wide, I considered hitting him across the back with a folding chair, No! The good angel on my right shoulder said. That would be wrong and youd be arrested and all your lifters would be kicked out of the competition. DO IT! The Devil on my left shoulder said, WHO CARES! THIS SUCKS! WHY DIDNT YOU STAY COACHING WORLD CHAMPIONS AND HALL OF FAME GUYS! Barely under control I eased closer; by now Betty was out-and-out crying and Julie was kneeing down in front of her chair holding her hands. This was bad, very, very bad
The official was saying to Betty, Theyll be other competitions. I stepped in and said, Uh, excuse me but Betty you need to get in a warm-up. She looked at me like I had announced the governor had denied a last minute stay of execution. She stood up shaking like a leaf. We loaded the bar and she took it out of the rack, stepped back and squatted down halfway (not near deep enough) stood up and lost her balance. She sat back down and asked, How was that? She knew it sucked. I knew it sucked. It sucked. I lied, That was great! Amira took another attempt that wasnt within a country mile of being legal. Super! I said. Kirks eyes were bugging out but he had gotten the vibe. One harsh word and our 120-day effort were going up in smoke. We got Betty to take another squat and truthfully it looked slightly better, not near legal but better. Amira’s final warm-up was also a little better. They were done and I escorted them to the front of the hall stage right and sat them down in the lifters area. Dont move, Ill be back! I rushed backstage where Kirk and Julie were methodically getting Jen and Connie to perform their warm-ups. They took three warm-ups apiece. This was a study in contrast: these two were calm, focused and businesslike. I rushed back to the stage just in time to hear Bettys name called as three out with Amira the forth lifter. It was time to ski down the straight razors edge
FRIDAY: The deal goes down: the good, the bad, the ugly
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