It’s more than a week since Derek Lunsford was crowned Mr. Olympia. And as things have settled since bodybuilding’s biggest event, there’s still plenty to talk about.
I must say that this year, as a spectacle, the event was reminiscent of a real, live, old-school bodybuilding show. Gone were the distractions of smoke, the enormous video wall, and the rock concert lighting. As if our pleas were heard, during prejudging the background was predominantly dark—not quite black, but at times close. No annoying detail-blurring smoke. The lighting, although not perfect, was at least not moving. And the production was just flawless because it was so simple. No outside celebrity collaborations. It was just bodybuilding, raw, no excuses, executed flawlessly to a sell-out crowd. So, kudos to the production staff—keep it up!
I always wait a few days to give you my view because I like to speak after the dust settles and for the inevitable controversies to hatch and grow legs. As far as the top three are concerned, there has been no shortage of debate and deeply critical commentary. And what else can anyone expect? The judging is totally subjective, and the quality of competitor so equally matched that the hairs the judges are splitting are growing on an atom. And the physiques were different enough to satisfy a few different flavors, so really, first through third could have gone any different way and the exact same arguments would still exist. That’s how close it was. That doesn’t mean they were all at 100%; it just means that everyone was equally off.
Why do I say that? Because it’s true. This was, by all measure, an historic Olympia. Not only was the top ten a veritable who’s who of modern-day superstars, but, for the very first time in history, a total of four Mr. Olympias were competing in the same show—Brandon Curry, Hadi, Derek, and Samson. This was probably the deepest field in history. But in name only.
The Ronnie Coleman Era Is Never Returning to the Olympia Stage
Maybe I expect too much out of a field of four Mr. O’s and such rivals as Andrew Jacked, Nick Walker, Martin Fitzwater, Urs, Akim, and the like? Or maybe I am jaded by the Ronnie/Jay era? Whatever it is, other than the first 35 seconds of Nick Walker first walking out on stage, no one rang the bell. You didn’t look at any of them and go, “Holy s***!! WTF??!! That ain’t right.” I was really expecting that, with a field that deep, we’d see at least one case of onion skin. Hadi comes undeniably close, but put any of them next to a 2003 Ronnie Coleman and the difference is glaring. That level of see-through skin seems to be reserved today for the 212 and the Classic guys… and Women’s Figure, Physique, and the Ms. O. Rarely, if ever, do we see men’s open bodybuilding espousing the condition of the ’80s, ’90s, and early 2000s. They all look like they have been dipped in plastic. They’re covered in a film that keeps them from lighting up when they hit a shot.
I’ve voiced this observation and my reason for it in numerous other formats, so I’m not going to repeat myself here. However, suffice to say, I think it’s something we’ve all come to expect. Like there’s this unwritten trade-off to which we’ve all agreed: if you want giant mass monsters, then you have to let go of some of the quality. Such quality and condition can be found in other divisions. The open is going to be a freak show—we can’t have both. Not unless you’re Dorian, Ronnie, Jay, Levrone, Dennis Wolf, Markus Rühl, Nasser…. Like I said, it feels like we’ve given up.
The Coleman era is over. That’s it. You want ’90s bodybuilders, go watch Classic Physique—or Women’s Bodybuilding. Not for nothing, but Ms. O and some of her sisters look like statues. Really just mind-blowing. They may not be society’s favored cup of tea, but you simply can’t look at them and not give them their propers. They are really good at what they do.
So, what do we read from the podium? Obviously, we have Derek in the middle for the second time. His flaws—two glaring: oddly shaped, soft-looking biceps. They’re not small; they just look like they have no identity—they don’t stand up. Secondly, his upper middle chest is missing detail—barren—almost no striations and it looks rather shallow. When you combine the lack of striations with the aforementioned thickish skin, he looks like plastic. He just doesn’t pop. Until he turns around. Then it’s lights out. Derek’s back is from another planet. If any other competitor ever dares even dream of beating Derek in a back shot, he’d better wake up and apologize. You’d have to look all the way back to Joel Stubbs to find a back that could rival Derek’s.
It’s been well opined by numerous pundits, coaches, judges, and gurus that contests are won or lost from behind. Given the fact that Derek was, with the exception of missing biceps peaks, pretty much flawless from behind—glutes, hamstrings, low back, and calves were all in. In both the back double and the rear lat spread, no one was getting near Derek. Was that enough to put him over the top and make up for his weaknesses from the front? If you employed Occam’s razor at this point, the answer would be yes. How close did Hadi come? Extremely.
The problem with Hadi’s physique is that it’s maxed out. All his available real estate is bought up. He’s got nowhere to go. So, if his condition isn’t at least on par with his previous showing, then he’s going to suffer. And that’s exactly what happened. He came in just ever so slightly less conditioned than last year. Now, one could argue that even despite him being off, he still waxed Derek… Um… yeah, but not from the back.
Andrew Jacked Brought His Best to the Olympia Stage—and Can Still Improve
The same cannot be said, however, for Andrew Jacked in third. Conditioning-wise, he could have won—I had him winning after prejudging. But unlike Hadi, even as monstrous as he is, Andrew still has some lots for sale. If he gains 15–20 pounds and brings the same or better condition next year, no one will beat him. His structure is far more pleasing than anyone’s up there except for maybe Samson and Fitz, but Andrew is taller and has a really tiny waist. Samson also has a tiny waist—even tinier this year than last—but where did all the muscle go?
That was a big disappointment. I don’t know who he listened to, but the pursuit of better conditioning came at the expense of losing muscle—noticeably so, especially in his legs. Right now, he’s another tall man who needs 15–20 pounds of muscle. Unlike the second disappointment of the show—Nick Walker.
He doesn’t need any more muscle. In fact, he could actually stand to lose some. And his gut is seemingly becoming more and more difficult to control. I was in the wings back stage when he went on, my view was to the side. When he turned around to hit a back double he let go of his stomach and got mutant ninja turtled. It was crazy – his stomach looked like a fossil of an armored dinosaur. But not just his gut. It was his whole body; he actually looked inflamed. The first few seconds of him hitting the stage were eye-popping, then you started to notice something wasn’t right. And just like that, the wow factor faded right along with his physique. And from there, he got worse. His demeanor changed; you could see it. He blew it, and he knew it.
The Good, the Bad, the Disappointing
As much as this disrupts Nick’s admitted desire to maintain no worse than a third-place pro finish, this could be seen as a blessing. Nick is young, and his rise was rapid. His fan base exploded, and he got famous. Now he finds himself in a situation where the talking part is done. He missed the last two Olympias; he’s had plenty of time to heal, build, and hone his physique to an unprecedented level. This is what was expected of him. It was time to put up. And what ended up happening? Bob Chic got the Edgar Cayce award. And you know what? Deservedly so. If you beg for a humbling experience, chances are you’ll get one. The question is, what do you do with that? I like Nick Walker. I’ve said I was a fan for years. He’s got a lot of fans and a lot of support and many who believe—me included—that Nick should win an Olympia. I hope he does. To hear Bob have to announce it would be music to my ears.
I could write a book about this show; I’m obviously just scratching the surface. Ramon winning Classic was the best decision the judges made all night. If you’re one of those fans who laments the passing of the ’90s physique, there you go. That dude looked amazing. That whole division—and the 212, for that matter—have ’90s written all over them. So, quit complaining about the open guys and making stupid comments such as “bodybuilding is dead.” Clearly, it’s not.
But before I go, I gotta talk about a couple more dudes. First, Martin Fitzwater. He’s my choice for most underrated bodybuilder in the lineup. I mean, what do you want? The guy looks like the Gold’s Gym sign, only more ripped. His symmetry, his balance, his condition… He was easily top three. At least we know he’s knocking on the door. As is Brandon Curry. It’s got to be tough for a former Mr. O to not make the top three, let alone repeat. But Brandon takes it like a soldier and with class. And he is improving. So, as with Fitz, they just have to keep doing what they’re doing—bringing it better than last time. Eventually, there will be a Sandow in it for them.
Other than what I have already, the only other thing I’m going to say about the women competitors is about Wellness. I like it just fine, but it has almost nothing to do with sport—at least the presentation. Their physiques are phenomenal, but if any of what we do belongs in Vegas, it’s Wellness. I think it’s the strong Latin component that has these women play the sultry card and set the standard for presentation. They move like smoke. They walk on stage like a leopard sneaking up on something small and furry. And when it’s time to “pose,” especially the famed glute-hamstring pose—more like “position”—some girls can arch their backs and push their va-jay-jay out so far a guy in the third row got a sequin in his nose.
It’s just… it’s not a sport. That’s not to discount their physiques. Of course, they train hard and diet and blah blah blah. I got it. No argument—their athleticism built their bodies. It’s what they do with them that’s dangerous. These girls are not doing quarter turns. We’re one liquor license away from adding a pole and restricting the audience to over 21. And don’t think such an idea hasn’t already hatched. They call Vegas “Sin City” for a reason.
