So this Derek Lunsford Olympia business is starting to get under my skin, and for a number of reasons.
First off, I’m irked yet again by this incessant, plaintive wailing from the peanut gallery that “bodybuilding is dead” because it’s not going in the direction a certain few people want. This, in spite of the fact that the industry has been flourishing, partly because of the addition of Classic Physique, which was initiated predominantly as an homage to the ’90s-era bodybuilder, and to satisfy the plaintive wailing over it being dead. Yet still they complain…
Next, I have been shouting from the rooftops for years and years, on every podcast that brings it up, that the reason the ’90s physiques are gone lies squarely at the feet of the gurus and whatever dial-in process they employ today. I talk to enough bodybuilders to tell you, confidently, that the dial-in process employed today is not the same protocol that gave us the ’90s lineup of which everyone is so fond. The diuretics are different, the amount and duration are not the same, and they are being combined with other ancillary drugs/potions/cocktails/plasma expanders… and whatever other spare chemicals SpaceX might have listed on eBay.
Kent Leckie
Some may argue the path they take today is less treacherous, but as with anything done to the extreme, there’s inevitably going to be a body count. How much of a body count is acceptable? It’s hard to say, but what we can deduce, by virtue of the fact that the body sports are still intact, is that we haven’t reached that number yet. So, onward and upward… As the envelope gets pushed and prize money zeroes in on $1 million for the Mr. Olympia title, the image of the ’90s-era bodybuilder will be farther and farther away in the rearview mirror. I say this because of the obvious trend. The judges are demonstrating they want the Open guys big.
The ’90s era espoused skin as thin as tissue paper, expressing deep separation, striations, and highly detailed muscle fibers (like the guys in Classic). Today, the Open guys look plastic-dipped. This is clearly by design because it’s not a one-off — they all do it. They all look like that. None of them look like the guys from the ’90s, nor do any of them resemble the guy in the pics they were posting on their social media two weeks before the show.
The athletes, most obviously Lunsford, are being consumed by the federation’s dynamic. And that is what is keeping the ’90s out of the 21st century. But then again, have I mentioned there’s Classic? A giant flashing neon light that reads: “’90s bodybuilder.” So I don’t know, someone’s got a screw loose. Well, we all do, it’s just that with some people the screws come all the way out.
The last thing bothering me is the critiques of Derek themselves. Some of you guys out there really take this stuff seriously—seriously enough for us to wonder if you wear a crash helmet while you’re awake. Look, not for nothing, but you have to—in all fairness—understand that the human and the title are two different entities. Derek the athlete is not Mr. Olympia. The body he built is. The Sandow is an award given to an athlete for presenting a physique that nine judges unanimously agree looks like “Mr. Olympia.” It’s the same concept as winning a blue ribbon at the county fair for the giant pumpkin you grew. The blue ribbon is for the pumpkin, not you. Therefore, in any and all judging of a bodybuilding show, the athlete—the person—is not being judged; just his carcass.
So that makes it incredibly invidious that any of these hateful trolls would toss aspersions Derek’s way because he won, despite his obvious flaws. Are you blaming Derek—the person—for his physique winning despite his flaws? That was his fault? Such a whopper deserves an explanation, but all there is is supposition.
Jonathan Moriau
What do all of my issues expressed herein above have in common? Derek—the athlete—is being blamed, maliciously, for his body being the body the judges agreed looks like Mr. Olympia. Technically, isn’t that the point? I never met a competitor in any pursuit that entered a competition gunning for second place. Did Derek enter a physique in the Olympia he thought would win? Of course he did. Did his physique have flaws? It sure did. Yet, by one point, the judges put Derek ahead of Hadi.
Almost immediately, pics of Derek’s soft-looking biceps peaks began circulating on social media, being compared to everyone from Robby Robinson on forward through the ranks, including just regular gym rats with stacked-up peaks; Shawn Ray and Dorian Yates even jumped in. Seems everyone, including someone’s mother, has better biceps than Mr. Olympia. So yes, it’s a valid point: Mr. Olympia has sub-par biceps. Yet one would otherwise have to travel to another planet to find a better back. Did that make a difference over Hadi—by a point? Obviously yes, but it could just as easily have gone the other way. One point is a squeaker.
Now, is any of this Derek the athlete’s fault? Should any of this mar his extraordinary competitive season—bagging the Olympia, the Arnold, and the Pittsburgh Pro? Disregard him professionally? Disrespect him personally? Absolutely not. If there’s any complaint to be leveled against Derek being Mr. O, take it up with the judges. It’s their fault.
