Remembrances of Days Past
18 July 2005If you're new here, you may want to subscribe to my RSS feed. Thanks for visiting!
The 1991 world champions: Team USA…Kirk and Marty are in the back row
This is a picture of the 1991 American powerlifting team after we captured the world team championships in Orebo, Sweden. I was a one of four coaches for the US squad. In 1983 I had a horrific accident and ended up with a compound fracture of my left lower leg. This effectively ended my career as a powerlifter, at least for the next decade. I made a comeback at age 42 but never hit the heights Id achieved before the injury. After the accident I wanted to keep my hand in the game and rather than become an official or an administrator (never my style) decided to coach. At the local level I helped Mark Challiet and Kirk Karwoski rise to international prominence and as a result I was drafted by John Black and Bob Fortenbaugh to help coach Blacks Gym at national competitions.
We captured three national team titles in five years. Our main competition was always and forever the mighty United States Armed Forces squad coached by my old Irish buddy, fighter pilot/instructor, AF Academy graduate, 500-pound bench presser, Sean Slim Scully. Our team tussles were epic and over a five year period Blacks captured three team titles and the Armed Forces two. I remember at the 1991 national championships when Bob F and I squeezed together on the top rung of the victory podium to receive the humongous 1st place team award, the much taller Scully was on the 2nd place pedestal and right before the anthem played I looked down and nudged Sean, Scully, you wouldnt believe view from up here! Its incredible!
Maybe someday after Bob and I retire youll be able to stand up here once again say, by the way, you look as if your hair is getting a little thin on top. Seans instinctually ran his hand on his crown to check and Bob and I laughed so hard (Sean too) that we almost toppled off the podium. As a result of coaching Blacks I was able to work with Eric Arnold, Dan Austin, Joe Ladiner, Incredible Eddie Coan, Mike Hall, Dave Jacoby, Phil Hile, Bob Bridges, (Mikes brother) Kirk, Mark, Bob Dempsey, Dan Wolheber, Lamar Gant and a host of others whos names escape meworking with the very best, up close and personal in the white hot heat of national and international competition is one of the most frightening and exhilarating experiences imaginable. Literally six months of back-busting work are on the line and some athletes rise the competitive occasion while others wilt in the glare.
I am no fan of international travel but when I was asked to be one of the coaches for the world team, I agreed. In 1990 my protg Karwoski had lost the world title to The Fearsome Finn, three-time world champion, Kroyosto Vilmi by a miniscule 4.4 pounds. It was Kirks first senior men IPF world championships. Vilmi pulled his final deadlift of 788 to eek out the win and I kicked myself in the ass for not having gone as I am quite sure that my presence would have been good for that additional five pounds. The next year Kirk and I traveled to Europe looking for blood. Back then the US Team would always arrive at a competition in Europe or Asia ten days (or more) ahead of time so the athletes could adjust to the jet lag and time change.
The trip overseas was the typical travel nightmarebuses, planes, connecting flights, more buses, dead time in terminals, more long bus rides all this effort to arrive in a modest Swedish town in November where all the locals were sour and dour and an average lunch in an average Chinese restaurant was $40. (Id say $60-70 today) I remember a group of us going to the McDonalds and I paid $22 for two Big Macs, an order of fries and a shake shocking! All the locals drove bikes or Volvos and even in the bars things were somber. Who died? What is up with these square-ass people? Kirk summarized when he and I got a beer (or ten) at local tavern one night. You cannot possibly understand how boisterous, raucous, profane and good-natured a squad of American athletes are on an overseas trip is until youve seen them contrasted to somber Swedes. It seemed that in this particular culture smiling was frowned upon and laughing out loud in public was considered very bad manners indeed. Well here came the American Barbarians and youd have thought we were Jack Palance in Shane. (Maybe we were) Every one wanted to see the cocky Americans whipped: unfortunately for them the only whippings administered were administered by us.
The competition was run with precision and great careI coached Phil Hile, a dwarf PhD who at 114-pound bodyweight could squat 520. He took 4th. I then had the honor of coaching Dan Austin in the 148-pound class. Dan was the strength coach a UNLV at the time and he was so dominant the foreign guys were moving to other weight classes to avoid him. He did not disappoint and not only won but set a world record deadlift (688?) and captured the Champion of Champions award given to the single most outstanding lifter amongst the eleven weight classes. We didnt have a 165-pound lifter since we had decided to double up our entries in the 242-pound class. I remember seeing Karlo Virtanan (Jarmos younger brother) warming up back stage: he did a series of standing broad jumps that were incrediblehe would squat down and then leap forward three times in a rowbang, bang, bang! A good athlete can perform a standing broad jump of 10-feet and I swear this guy covered 40-feet in three leapshe did ten three-jump reps as he felt it helped his explosiveness in the squat and deadlift. (He was the deadlift world record holder)
At 181 Dan Wagman, an army Ranger/Paratrooper with a PhD took 4th in his 1st world championships. Dan later became the health and science editor at Muscle & Fitness magazine after some hard lobbying on my part: Jim Wright had left Weider to go to work for Scott Connelly at MetRx and Tom Deters, major domo at Weider, was ringing his hands and agonizing, unsure if Ranger Dan would fit in with the fem-man staff at M&F. Dan got the job and had a great long run at Weider before moving on.George Herring won the 198-pound class, going nine-for-nine. (Nine attempts and nine successes) George was a free thinker and didnt believe in the jet-lag theory: Foreign food sucks and I lose strength by showing up a week ahead of time. The hell with all that! Herring showed up less than 24-hours beforehand and proceeded to lift perfectly at what would have been 3 AM for him back home in Georgia. He did a fabulous job.
At 242 Steve Goggins bombed out when he insisted on opening his squats at 832. We tried to warn him how strict the IPF judging was but he was beyond coaching. Bip, Bang, Boomhe was out of the competition. I worked with Dave Superman Jacoby, the defending world champion and Sean made a rare coaching mistake by jumping Dave from an 804 second attempt squat success to a close miss at 832. He called the lift without consulting Dave or I and I will never forget the look of surprise/anger/shock on Daves face when Sean told him his 3rd squat would be 832, Damn thats a BIG jump Sean! Can you change it to 819 or 826? Too late. Dave had a close miss. He tore a pectoral muscle on his opening attempt bench press and came off the platform holding his limp arm, We got a problem. Our team doctor, Dick Herrick, looked him over and the prognosis was not good. I remember the tense huddle with myself, Dave, the doctor and Sean. Scully looked at Dave and said, Can you lift or not? Tell me yes or no right now. Dave thought for a minute and said, Yeah, lets do it. The doc said, Are you sure and was immediately cut off by Sean, The man said he can go so were f#@*ing going! No deadlift warm ups. I dropped his opening deadlift to 704 and he pulled it with great pain. As soon as he came off (in agony) we iced the pec and inched him up to 733. He made that lift but a Norwegian who couldnt touch him with a ten foot pole on a good day had the lead.
Every time Dave pulled a weight this guy would pull 4.4 more to maintain the lead. After Dave made 733 the other guy made 738 to take the lead again. Dave went out for his third and final lift in front of a packed house. The Europeans was mad-crazy (cowbells, air horns, theyd whistle at us and clap in syncopated fashion for their Scandinavian golden boy who was about to upset the seven-time world champ) Dave pulled the weight 7/8s of the way to completion and failed I remember seeing the Norwegian jumped five feet straight up in the air and yelling in ecstasy when Dave failed. The auditorium, packed to the rafters, exploded with joy. The heavy favorites, Goggins and Jacoby, had been upset. Dave glared at the guy and mumbled to me as he held his damaged arm, Paybacks are hell dude! The next year Dave came back and lifted at the worlds in England where he decimated the field one final time. He retired on top. In the 275-pound class Kirk destroyed the competition with such ease it was anticlimactic. This would be the 1st of six straight IPF titles for him.
At the awards banquet afterwards, the greatest non-USA powerlifter in the world, the Finnish 181-pound world champion Jarmo Virtanan came up to Dan Austin and myself immediately after Dan had come offstage after being awarded the Champion of Champions award. He had his Finn posse with him and swilled a double vodka with one hand while he chain-smoked Marlboros in the other. We thought he was going to offer congratulations; instead he ignored our handshakes and glared at Dan, So, Don, I see you have my Champion of Champion award; be a good boy and hand it over. Silence. I instinctively settled into a back-loaded stance as I really thought these nasty inebriated Finns were going to throw down on us. One of our team managers innocently wandered into our midst laughing and began poking the stock still Austin with a playful finger, which distracted him enough to break the deadly mood. Ive always wondered if Virtanans real intention was to pick a fight at the banquet. It would have been a Pier Nine, bench-clearing brawl as there was no love loss between us and the Finns and the Russians would have loved a reason to mix it up with their northern neighbors.
Whereas the Russians and the Ukrainians were fierce competitors, they were good guys immediately before and after the competition. The Finns and the Russian had some serious differences of opinion about everything. The US lifters were hated because we always stood between the Finns and the world team title. Too bad! I drank hard with Kirk and the Russians (what a combination) and the next day was a hangover blur for the entire team. We had to commence our god-awful trip home, this time exhausted and with exploding heads. It was a terrible way to end a successful trip.
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