LUCKILY FOR MO – or, should I say, Mo’s bank balance – he was able to find enough sponsors who were willing to pay me cash and I’m happy to say that each and every one of them has stayed with me. It’s the perfect arrangement, really: they enable me to train full time and in return they get the best of me.
The first major international competition I entered after going pro was the Arnold Classic in America, Arnold Schwarzenegger’s own strongman competition. If ever there was an event tailor-made for me to win, it was this. I mean, come on. How often have I mentioned Arnold Schwarzenegger in this book so far? Fucking loads! The man’s a God to me and so to say I was looking forward to competing in his competition would be a gross understatement. But it was also intimidating – not because of the prospect of meeting my hero for the first time, although that did give me a few sleepless nights, the kind you have on Christmas Eve – no, it was because of the reputation of the competition itself. The Arnolds, as it’s known, is widely considered to be the most challenging strongman contest on earth and although it doesn’t have the cachet of World’s Strongest Man it carries more prize money and is certainly the most intense.
The competition itself is part of the Arnold Sports Festival, a multi-sport event consisting of various competitions including professional bodybuilding (the Arnold Classic) and strongman (the Arnold Strongman Classic). Set up in the late 1980s, it’s become one of the biggest sporting festivals on the planet and now has events all over the world.
What surprised me most of all were the amount of people there. Until then I’d been used to competing in front of, at most, five thousand, and when I first walked into the exhibition centre in Columbus, Ohio, it almost took my breath away. Apparently there are over a quarter of a million people who attend this event each year and a fair chunk of these are strongman fans.
I actually found the enormity of the event quite intimidating at first and I was completely out of my comfort zone. I just wasn’t used to being around so many people. I soon adjusted to it though and when I was finally introduced to the crowd for the first time it was like being at the MGM Grand. The MC was pure Las Vegas!
‘Our next competitor, from England – Eddie Hall! Twenty-seven years old, six foot three inches tall and weighing 385 lb. FOUR TIMES UK’s Strongest Man!’
Each competitor has to walk on carrying their home nation flag and then stand in a line facing the audience. We do the same at all the Giant’s Live events and it looks great.
Since 2003, Žydrūnas Savickas has won this title no fewer than eight times and behind him is Brian Shaw on three. A lot of people credit Žydrūnas as being the strongest man who’s ever lived and after the first event on the first day I wouldn’t have disagreed with them.
The event in question was the Austrian Oak, which is basically a log press (i.e. lifting a log-shaped bar above your head – not exactly easy as it’s an awkward shape to hold), First up was Benni Magnússon. He had a good go but couldn’t get the last ten inches. Up next was Thor and he barely got it above his head. This thing was fucking heavy, by the way: 405 lb (205kg)! After him was Brian Shaw, who didn’t fare much better, and after two more disappointed hopefuls it was my turn. My first event at my first Arnold Classic. Nervous? I was crapping myself! There must have been at least 10,000 people there but as always I went out there with the intention of giving it absolutely everything.
Just getting this thing onto your chest takes up a massive amount of energy and by the time I was ready to push for a lift I already felt half gone. Even so I pushed for all I was worth and on my first attempt I was about the same as Benni. This wasn’t good enough so because I still had time I decided to go again. This time it came up a bit easier and so without fannying around I went straight for the lift. I was literally about an inch away from locking it out but I just didn’t have it in me. Bollocks! I certainly wasn’t happy but that thing was just absolute immense.
Last up was Žydrūnas and because of his reputation everyone had stayed back to see if he could do it. Thor, Brian, me … we were all standing by the side of the stage hoping he’d be having an off day. He wasn’t. He walked onto the stage, picked it up like it was a fucking twig and then lifted it in about two seconds flat. I’d seen enough.
Next up was the frame walk, which was set on an incline, and once again I struggled for some reason. I can’t put my finger on it. I just wasn’t at the races.
When I got back to my hotel room that evening I was both pissed off and miffed. Finishing the first day in eighth after two of my best events was not a good start but tomorrow was another day. Thank God!
Fortunately, after having a good night’s sleep and a bit of a word with myself I felt cracking the next day and arrived at the exhibition centre absolutely full of it. The first event was the tyre deadlift and after getting rid of the also-rans it was just me and Brian Shaw in the final. The best I managed was 1,111 lb but he pipped me by pulling 1,117 lb. It was an improvement on yesterday but I still didn’t feel right.
Going into the final event I was in fourth place but five points off the lead. The event in question was the circus dumbbell and again, it should have been another strong event for me. I can’t remember where I finished in the event itself but what I do remember is lining up at the end of the final day for the presentation. This time I was dreading hearing that MC’s voice as I knew what he was going to say.
‘In sixth place, Eddie Hall.’
You wanker!
I was now one of the few full-time professional strongmen in the world and this was just dog shit. I’d let myself down. The only surprise bigger than me finishing sixth was Thor finishing seventh, so at least I wasn’t alone. I remember commiserating with the big man directly after the presentation and between the two of us we could have depressed a roomful of pissed-up monkeys. Brian fucking Shaw won the competition, the gangly American freak. I remember looking on at Brian as Arnold Schwarzenegger (yes, I know!) handed him the trophy and his cheque. The word ‘envy’ doesn’t even come close to covering the emotions I felt at that moment, but if you tried adding things like resentfulness, anger and hatred to the list, you’d be about half way. I love Brian but at that moment in time I wanted to rip off his head and shit down his neck.
As I walked away from the exhibition centre in Columbus, Ohio, with my cheque for $6,000, I wondered if I would ever get to meet my hero. I’d managed to grab a quick photo with him at the competition but hadn’t said a word to him and had simply been one of thousands. That wasn’t my style at all. I wanted to impress Arnold and make him notice me. I wanted him to want to speak to me.
Thanks to Colin Bryce, a new world record and some very tired athletes, that opportunity would come a lot sooner than I thought.