AS THE PLANE TAKES OFF I CLUTCH MY ONLY
POSSESSION; A CRINKLED PIECE OF A4 PAPER SHOWING PICTURES OF TINTED MEN WEARING TINY JOCKS. JAMIE
ASKS ME IF I’M SURE THIS IS A GOOD IDEA. ‘ABSOLUTELY, THIS WILL BE THE GREATEST
WEEKEND EVER. TRUST ME.’
As the plane takes off I clutch my only
possession: a crinkled piece of A4 paper showing pictures of orange tinted men
wearing tiny jocks. Jamie asks me if I’m sure this is a good idea. ‘Absolutely,
this will be the greatest weekend ever. Trust me.’
Normally I’d question my mental health
being on a plane at 7.00 on a Sunday morning, especially for work. But not
today. Today the gods are smiling on me. Why else would they host one of the
biggest body building competitions in the world at the same time we’re working
on the Tough Edition? And why else would they sit one of the official
International Federation of Bodybuilding and Fitness (IFBB) judges (who just
happens to be the size of three wardrobes strapped together) directly behind
us? It’s fate I tell you.
Before we even hit the ground, the
walking wardrobe (Andrew) gives us a run down on what to expect at the IFBB
Grand Prix. He informs us that this is not just any competition, but the
biggest muscle show in Australian body building history. He rolls off names
like, Mustapha, Vince Taylor, Lee Priest, and Roc Shabazz. I pretend I know who
he’s talking about and scribble down as much information as I can. After a bit
more body building talk, Andrew asks us if we’d like to know how to beat a lie
detector test. Sure, why not, maybe we can use it in the magazine. ‘All you’ve
got to do is rub Dencorub on your balls’ he tells us. ‘The burning raises your
heart rate to a point where everything looks like a lie.’ Yep, I reckon we can
squeeze that in somewhere.
We arrive at the Convention Centre
secretly hoping we won’t be the smallest guys in there. And we’re in luck; the
first bloke we spot isn’t that much bigger than us. Sure, he’s got biggish
shoulders but apart from that I reckon I could take him. On closer inspection,
Jamie informs me that he’s actually a woman – and she’s not even a competitor.
Slowly but surely more and more muscle groupies begin to turn up, each one a
little bigger than the last. It’s like watching millions of years of evolution
in reverse. The longer we wait, the more monkeys we see. Suddenly, we spot a
silverback. One of the biggest things I’ve ever seen in my life walks past
wheeling a suitcase that looks like a Barbie accessory. I turn to Jamie but
he’s already following the giant through to the warm-up area. We discuss the
pros and cons of approaching him and decide it’s probably best if we just sit
there and watch ... Gorillas in the Mist
style.
We camp out on the floor and watch as
more of the beasts slowly waddle in with their entourage, which in most cases
consists of wives and girlfriends that could destroy most guys in an arm
wrestle. These lucky ladies are responsible for looking after the body oil and
tubs of tanning products, which we soon discover is just as important as the
muscles themselves.
Sitting on the floor next us we spot
the legendary Vince Taylor, the only guy in the room who seems to be smiling.
It’s hard to put an age on Vince, but I’m guessing he’s a bit older than the
other guys – mainly due to the fact he’s one of the only ones not plugged into
an iPod. Even though he’s wearing a loose baggy t-shirt you can tell he’s
packing some serious larms (see glossary).
Vince tells us that he’s on his comeback tour. ‘I’m turning 50 in the next few
months, so this is like my goodbye tour … A chance for Vince Taylor to say good
bye to all his fans out there.’
Over the next 20 minutes we get the
Vince Taylor life story, which by all accounts, is more like a soap drama than
a sporting biography. He tells us how he started his career in in ‘83 and how
Arnie once described him as the greatest poser of all time. He tells us about
the backroom deals and conspiracies of the bodybuilding world (he was cheated
out of numerous titles because he refused to sign a contract). He recalls how,
three years in a row, he won the Arnold Classic and the judges ‘accidentally’
forgot to present him with a trophy. He may look hard on the outside, but I’m
sensing all this rejection has taken its toll on the big man. I try to change
the subject to something more positive, like his biceps, which he proudly
flexes for us.
A call then comes out over the PA for
all ‘athletes’ to start preparing for the pre-judging. With this, Vince strips
down to his satin y-fronts and heads into the warm-up area. I feel a little
sick in the stomach, which I hope is due to the pie I ate in the cafeteria and
not the fact that I’m actually feeling nervous for Vince.
EVERYWHERE I LOOK, GUYS ARE BEING
SPRAYED WITH COOKING OIL.
A few minutes later the room is full of
giant men in tiny underpants. They’ve all stripped down in preparation for the
first round of flexing. Some are doing push-ups, others are playing tug of war
with a towel. Vince is curling invisible dumbbells. (Yeah Vince!) In the corner
we spot a Conan-esque South American guy called Christian who, despite his
already ridiculously orange body, is being coated in fake tan. He sees me
staring and takes that as his cue to flex for the camera. I give him the nod
and nervously walk away while Jamie continues to take photos. I can’t get over
how orange everyone looks; even the black guys have a citrus tint. I’m later
told the carroty coverage counteracts the harsh lighting on stage. The darker
you are, the more defined you look. Now, you’d image a room full of giant
sweaty blokes doing weights would smell like ass. But it doesn’t. In fact, it
actually smells a lot like banana cake. And then I realise why; it’s the
Canola. Everywhere I look, guys are being sprayed with cooking oil. I feel sick
again. I think it’s the pie this time. I hope so anyway, otherwise I’ve got
some serious problems.
It doesn’t take a sports’ scientist to
work out that these guys are on something more than Canola oil and protein
bars. And to be honest, I really don’t care. This is the Tough edition after
all, and in my book there’s nothing tougher than taking drugs that can attack
your liver, increase the chance of heart disease, cause acne and shrink your
testicles. Speaking of which, I can’t work out whether these guys really do
have small balls or it’s just an optical illusion.
Back to the competition. Jamie and I
decide to head out to the auditorium and watch the pose down with the hundreds
(maybe thousands?) of other muscle hungry fans. Lights dim and the competitors
stride out one by one in alphabetical order. The crowd cheers as the head judge
reads out a series of poses. It sounds exactly like the Brownlow Medal count,
except with body parts:
‘Front double bicep. Hold. Front lat spread. Hold. Quarter
turn. Side chest. Relax. Quarter turn. Hold. Face the rear. Lat spread.’
I can see why the tan is so important,
the lights really are harsh.
Eventually, Vince comes out and the
crowd goes nuts, except for one guy who shouts out ‘Not bad for an 80 year
old’. Vince ignores him but Jamie and I give him the death stare. It seems to
work because the next comment we hear is, ‘Yeah, tight hammies Vince!’ The
routine goes without a hitch and Vince walks off pecs flexing, showing no signs
of being nearly half a century old. After the pose down, I walk up to Andrew
and ask him how he thinks Vince went. ‘Pretty good’, he tells me. I try again,
this time with influence, ‘He looked better than everyone else don’t you
think?’. He doesn’t bite. Oh well, I tried my best. If this really is to be the
prefect day, Vince will win.
The final was eventually won by Ronny
‘The Rock’ Rockel from .
Vince finished a credible third. He was hoping for a top six, so we were happy
for him.
The next day Jamie and I hit the gym.