Derek Lunsford bagging his second Olympia title last weekend was the final jewel in 2025’s bodybuilding triple crown. Add to this triple crown—which also included Arnold Classic and Pittsburgh Pro wins—the fact that 2023’s Olympia win made Derek the only bodybuilder in history to win both the 212 and the Open, and there’s no argument that we have a remarkable champion on our hands.
With all that behind him—or weighing on him—we all watched intently this past weekend as Derek marched into battle among not only the best in the world, but also three former Mr. O’s, all of whom had their sights set squarely on the target on Derek’s head. This year will go down in history not only as the first Olympia to feature four former winners in the lineup, but also for the sheer depth of the rest of the field. To say this show was stacked is a grave understatement.
But as impressive an accomplishment as that looked to be on the surface, no one knew how great a testament to the indomitable spirit of man winning that title actually was at the moment it happened. What I saw, no one else saw—because, at the time, maybe five people knew what I knew. And because of what I knew, I was able to recognize the exact moment Derek’s spirit took control of his body. What I witnessed was basically two steps away from a miracle.
So, while the rest of the web is rife with recap articles and podcasts dissecting Derek’s flaws, Hadi’s strengths, or what the heck Andrew has to do to win around here, I’m going to tell you a story no one else can—because no one else saw it. And if you had, you’d agree with me that this is the biggest story of the weekend. This isn’t about flaws in his physique, but rather the lack of cracks in his character.
Full disclosure: I know Derek. I like Derek. I’m a fan of his physique—it has its flaws as well as its strengths. We can argue all day about whether or not Derek deserved to win, but history will still reflect that there’s a “W” after his name in both 2023 and 2025. History will also reflect the magnitude of this year’s event.
But I’m going to one-up it.
Because of my responsibilities to Muscle & Fitness, I’m given full-access production credentials. My lanyard gets me everywhere—backstage, side stage, the pump-up area, the auditorium. I can take any open seat. There’s nowhere I can’t go.
While standing backstage, I overheard a very high-level individual say that something was wrong with Derek. They then conferred with the production crew behind me to rework the order so Derek would go out last, ostensibly to give him time to deal with whatever the problem was.
A few moments later, I saw Derek walking in my direction. There was a tense, side-to-side hobble to his gait. He walked right past me like a zombie. Then, two steps later, he turned around and said, “Sorry, John, I don’t feel good.”
I asked him what he felt, and when he told me, I immediately understood what he was battling. I’d been down that road myself. I knew exactly what he was feeling physically. Let’s just say any more debilitating, and he would have been horizontal.
And on top of that, what no one could imagine was the pressure he was under—not just because winning would earn him $600,000 and the triple crown, but because of the sacrifices he made…his wife made…his kids made…his friends and family made. Then there were the responsibilities to his sponsors, his coach, his fans. All of that adds an unimaginable weight. If that didn’t make winning hard enough, Derek now had to conjure up a smile, push down what ailed him, and go out there to fight and win.
At the opposite end of the spectrum was Andrew Jacked—an extremely capable contender for the title. For all his menacing appearance, Andrew is a nice guy, a happy guy. The 6’2” Nigerian showed up in the shape of his life and was loving every minute of it.
I stayed backstage in case the worst happened and I needed to cover it. When it was time for the final comparison and pose down, I went out into the audience and grabbed a seat up front. To say they worked these guys is an understatement. Round after round they compared the top five. Finally, Weinberger said, “Guys, this is so close. You have another round in you?”
That’s when it happened. That’s when I saw a heroic feat of strength no one else could possibly see. All Derek wanted to do was get it done. At the announcement of another round, Andrew pumped his fist and yelled, “Yeah!” Derek, on the other hand, might as well have been deadlifting 800 pounds. But you couldn’t see it. His smile never faded. His fight didn’t subside. He didn’t flinch—he took it in stride, as elated as anyone else despite how badly he felt.
That took guts. That took strength. That took will. I saw it plain as day, and it’s something I’ll never forget. No one knew what a victory that actually was.
