Bodybuilders put their backs into event
Some man for one-and-a-half men. 52-inch chest, 21-inch biceps. A symmetrical expanse of muscle.
“Ah, it’s not about the size,” says Giani Relu Gauca, sympathetically. In a few days, Giani insists he will be a different guy. A little deflated.
“You manipulate your water and your sodium and your carbohydrate intake in the last few days before competition, the muscle gets inflated back and it gives an illusion that you are bigger.
“People are under the impression; look at these freaks. ‘I wouldn’t like to be with a guy like that.’ We are normal people like everyone else. We are not trying to show off.”
Ordinarily, you’d take that with a pinch of salt — if you were allowed salt — from a fella standing in luminous green briefs. But Giani is a serious guy living out a 20-year dream.
Back home in Romania, when his mother asked him what he wanted for his 15th birthday, he told her gym membership. She worried, but since he hung with a dodgy crowd, Giani made a bargain.
“Would you rather have me become a wild kid and end up in prison or do this sport?”
From there, his mother had no problems — Giani provided the discipline himself. He is 33 now, been in Ireland 13 years, and owns a gym in Carlow. Still on target for his ultimate goal — to turn pro.
He knew it would take this long to get his body right. A life of lifting. A diet of protein and low-glycaemic carbs. A cake or an ice cream maybe once a fortnight. Just one.
The whole day had been eye-opening. Eye-popping. This is one of the three majors in Irish bodybuilding and organiser Paul Keating from Mallow is pleased with the turnout.
In all, 52 hopefuls in eight classes strode the Cork Opera House stage on Saturday. Most of them hadn’t taken liquids in days. These guys are in the dehydration business. Gives you definition.
Backstage, a last-minute Mars bar or Lucozade for the energy to get through it. “Nothing you eat today will show on your body.”
I looked forward to making the acquaintance, in a day or two, of the bacon sandwich and cake I’d had in the café.
A few push-ups for the final pump and they were on. The old stage to themselves for a minute, like Madame Patti, C T Wilkinson, Billy Connolly, any of them. Dance or hip-hop, the soundtracks of choice. X Gon’ Give It to Ya. That kinda vibe.
They flexed, grimaced, gyrated and squeezed through routines designed to showcase their best features. “My main thing would be my side chest,” says Eric Lowther, runner-up in the junior class. “My back pose as well.”
They all certainly put their backs into it. Sweat pours.
Next a run through seven mandatory poses for the five judges. The fundamentals. Finally, an extraordinary spectacle — the Posedown. Seven beefcakes on a hot grill, freestyling frantically to catch the eye, edging each other out of centre stage. A runway where anyone could run you down.
Rob Armstrong — former rugby league player with Leeds Rhinos until a smashed ankle put paid to that — took the first-timer class. His coach Trevor Brady was Mr Cork 20 years ago, gulping 32 egg whites a day and working two jobs to buy them.
How do you turn rugby bulk into a showcase? “It’s all about definition. You have to define him. You show your good points, hide your bad points. He still has a lot of things to learn.”
Trevor sounds like he has plenty to teach. “Years ago, we’d drink whisky backstage. There’s a few old tricks. Black pen between the abs. I also sprayed Rob with deep heat going on to make him darker — an old Schwarzenegger tactic.”
Ouch. But it seems the coaches also have their crosses to bear in the build-up. “I spent five hours tanning him yesterday. And I had to shave his arse and balls.”
Ah Trevor. Was there any need?
“Oh sure. You can’t be going up there hairy. Ruins the whole effect.” It wasn’t for me to suggest slightly more discrete underpants.
Rob was off fluids for nearly 48 hours. “He was fit to drop,” says Trevor. “I made him go for a sauna Thursday evening and Friday morning."
Much like basketball, Trevor feels the glory days of Cork bodybuilding were the late ’80s, early ’90s. The rivalry intense between strongholds south and north of the city. Connolly Hall packed for the coronation.
Many of the old legends were in on Saturday. One-time Mr Ireland Frank Wallace, “the cream of the crop”. Another former Mr Cork Georgie ‘Porgie’ Hurley. Owner, in his day, of “the best triceps in the city”.
Trevor isn’t sure he likes the way the sport has gone. “Nowadays they are all posing around in the vest tops. In my day, you’d go around in a baggy jumper and hoodie, let no one see what shape you’re in. You could psyche guys out.”
Himself and George look good adverts for the sport. Trevor a fresh 40, George a lean 62. The show’s guest poser Seanie Bullman – Ireland’s only pro — is 55 and in remarkable condition.
CONNECT WITH US TODAY
Be the first to know the latest news and updates
