Maximum Pump

(Content Warning: Blood, Gore, Violence, Crude Humor, Language.)

Tom Lawry slowly wrapped his fingers around a cold black iron bar loaded with five-hundred pounds of solid steel plates and took a deep breath. His heart was pounding, but it wasn’t from the thousands of onlookers in the arena waiting for him to make an appearance. No, it was an overwhelming fear of failing and what that would mean to his illustrious bodybuilding career. In the solemn words of his late father—failure was something only losers did, and Tom Lawry was not a loser.

It was common practice for bodybuilders to warm up backstage before the big shows by lifting heavy weights to achieve the maximum pump and look their best. The first round of the Bodybuilders Express Championship Tournament featured Tom’s favorite body part—the chest. Without further hesitation, he gripped the bar as tight as he could, lifted the weight above his sternum, and slowly lowered it to his rib cage. With a quick exhale, Tom pressed the weight back up and repeated the motion ten times to complete his twelfth set.  

They called Tom “The Hammer” because of his unique ability to crush the competition with his dominant charisma. But despite his well-earned nickname, he always finished behind his rival, Mike “The Machine” Lawrence. Second place was nothing to be ashamed of; it was a feat few bodybuilders could achieve. For Tom, however, it wasn’t enough. There was a fire burning deep within his soul, and he hungered for first place.

Tom clapped his hands and sat up on the weight bench. “I’m going to win this time!”

A deep booming voice echoed behind him. “Are you sure puny man?”

The Austrian accent was unmistakable. “Yes, I’m sure, Mike,” Tom said, wiping the perspiration from his brow.

Mike took a few giant steps forward with his tree-trunk legs and rolled his eyes at Tom. “No. I do not think so,” he said in a mocking tone. “You are too weak. Too pathetic. You’ve been trying to beat me for years, and yet, you still fail. Why don’t you throw the towel in and admit that I have no equal?”

Tom mashed his lips in an attempt to hide his frustration, but Mike saw his anger. “Ah… poor baby. Did your daddy forget to pack your tissues? I have some extra in my dressing room if you need some.”

“Screw you,” Tom said. “You know my father passed away last year, and the only thing that man ever wanted was to see me win! That’s why this his year I vowed to win in his name!”

Mike curled his lips into a devilish smile and chuckled. “Well, I hear it’s going to rain later today. That would be your daddy’s tears crying from the Heavens because his loser son failed him once again.”  

Tom exploded from the bench and yelled, “You son-of-a—”

The two men were on a collision course to disaster, but before the nuclear bomb went off, Tom’s younger brother Jake, stepped in and separated them.

“Stop it right now!” Jake shouted. He looked at Mike and then turned his determined gaze at his older brother. “Are you two stupid or something? If the judges see you fighting, they’ll disqualify both of you!”

The two heavyweight warriors looked at Jake and then at each other, knowing he was right. Getting disqualified would be the worst thing that could happen. The tournament was only once a year, and that was far too long to wait for a potential rematch, so they took a step back.

“You better thank your little brother,” Mike bellowed, “he just saved your life.”

Tom said nothing in return and sat down on the bench, heart fluttering. Jake led Mike through the black nylon curtains that separated the bodybuilders and closed the flaps. It wasn’t much, but the drapes provided a vague sense of privacy.   

Turning to face his brother Jake pleaded, “You have to control yourself. The event starts in thirty minutes, and I don’t want you going out there with this shit hanging over your shoulders!”

Tom hung his head low, almost ashamed of himself, but he knew it wasn’t just his fault. Mike loved to stir the pot ever since they became huge competitors a few years ago. It all started with a sly remark that threw Tom off his game—Go win it all, big boy! For what seemed like encouraging words, it was the way Mike said them that psyched Tom out like a virgin on prom night. Those kinds of nerves before the big moment would stifle even the manliest of studs. Nevertheless, ever since that bitter defeat, Mike remained undefeated.  

Lost in thought, Tom finally looked at Jake with tears in his eyes and said, “Over the years, with all the blood, sweat, tears, and sacrifices, I just want it all to mean something.”

“What… You think it doesn’t?”

“I’m starting to think it was all a big mistake. A waste of time…”

“Listen up, Tom,” Jake said. “Do you think Dad would have invested so much time helping you if he didn’t see something special in you? Do you think he would have wasted so much time if he thought you were a loser?”

Tom leaned his head back and sighed. “I don’t know. I like to think he thought I was special, but he never got to see me win. Not even once!”

Jake walked over and slapped Tom across the cheek. “Snap out of it! This sport is more than just exercising.” He pointed to his brain and continued, “It’s also a mental challenge. Dad always said before he died that you were sculpted from stone, but your mind was made of wool. That’s the difference between you and Mike. He knows that he can psych you out and win. So… Why don’t you go out there and show him differently?”

A moment of clarity washed over Tom like a waterfall caressing a bittersweet mountain. He had never looked at it that way before. Could it have been that easy? Why didn’t he see it sooner? The journey to mental toughness doesn’t start on concrete—it begins on the sand.

Tom stood full of energy and renewed vigor. “You’re right, little brother. Dad and I never got along all that well. Perhaps that’s why I was so blind. I know how to win this competition, and then maybe I’ll retire on top with no regrets.”

Jake smiled and asked, “That’s great, but what are you planning to do?”

“All these years, Mike spent his time poisoning my mind, so I think a good way to turn the tables is to face him like a man and take back what’s mine.” He patted Jake on the back and gloated, “I’m going to go over there and tell him I’m sorry for being such an ass and wish him good luck. That would shock him to death and maybe give me the edge I need to win!”  

Jake cocked his head, smiled, and uttered, “Well, maybe that’s a good idea. Just remember that your mental toughness is key to winning.” He looked at his watch and said, “Do what you gotta do. You only have five minutes before the show starts. I’ll see you out there.”

Tom waved his brother a quick goodbye and headed swiftly to Mike’s area backstage. The other bodybuilders were making their way to the final curtain behind the stage, so Tom wasn’t worried about getting embarrassed if things went awry. The grunting sounds meant Mike was finishing his last set of bench presses to reach his maximum pump.

“It’s just about time to go out there. Are you ready, champ?”

Mike slammed the barbell on the rack. He was surprised to hear Tom’s voice. “What are you doing in my area, girly man?!”

“Ha, ha, ha… You’re always such a joker,” insisted Tom. “I just wanted to come back here and wish you luck. I know you like to psych me out, but after all this time, I know why you do it.”

“You know nothing, punk,” snarled Mike. “You are nothing more than a pathetic dweeb who thinks he has a chance at greatness. What you don’t understand is that I’ve already won this competition. You just don’t know it yet.”

Tom rolled his eyes wise to his games. “Listen, it’s all good.” He motioned to the barbell, which looked fully loaded with eight-hundred pounds, and offered, “I meant no harm. How about I spot you, so you can get a few more reps in to get that blood pumpin’ good?”

Mike wrinkled his forehead as he contemplated the offer. Was he serious? After a quick look at the clock, he replied, “Well, why not? We have a few minutes left, and it couldn’t hurt. Better for me to look my best while you look like a drunken goat, ha, ha, ha!”

Tom narrowed his eyes ever so slightly and dismissed the comment as Mike’s way of turning up the heat to mentally wreck him before the show. “That’s the spirit! Let’s do this.”

Mike said as the clock ticked on, “Let me do three reps, and then we need to get going. You don’t want to ruin your losing streak. I can smell my victory already!”

“Fine,” Tom said, keeping his anger at bay. “I’m all set here.”

Mike laid back on the bench, positioned his arms shoulder-width apart, and gripped the bar. Tom’s hands were already waiting for him, nestled right where they were supposed to be—in the middle of the bar.

“Come on,” Tom urged, “let’s get this done.”

With a massive grunt, Mike lifted the weight like a hungry bull, lowered it to his sternum, and then pressed it up. All the while, Tom kept a firm grip just in case he needed help.

“That’s one,” Tom said. “Come on, two more to go!”

“Urgh, argh,” Mike grunted. He lowered the weight and went through the motion once again. Tom noticed Mike’s pectoral muscles and arms shaking, suggesting that the next rep would be challenging.

“You’re doing great! Come on and give me one last rep!”

Mike closed his eyes to focus his energy. He couldn’t let Tom have the satisfaction of helping. After all, this was a solid effort to shame him one more time before the contest. “I got this, Ahh!”

He lowered the barbell to his sternum one last time and pressed it up, but he felt a powerful resistance that wasn’t there before. He pushed harder and summoned every bit of strength he had left, but still, the weight wouldn’t go any higher. Mike opened his eyes and saw Tom smiling down like a rabid dog. He wasn’t trying to lift the weight. He was pushing it down.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Mike gulped.

“I’m doing what I should’ve done years ago,” Tom barked, “I’m putting you in your place!”

Mike breathed heavily, and his heart raced like a mouse running away from a feral cat. He was strong, but as Tom leaned further over the bench to force more of his body weight down upon his greatest enemy, Mike knew the end was near. With one last ditch effort, Mike pressed as hard he could, but Tom pushed harder.

The barbell was like a giant vice squashing an uncut diamond. Mike struggled against the pressure and tried to roll off the bench, but his body betrayed him. His left forearm cracked, and the bone ripped through the soft tissue of his elbow. Tom giggled with glee as he drove the barbell down into Mike’s chest.

Crack!

Blood erupted from Mike’s mouth like a spring geyser, and Tom watched his bitter rival choke on his last breath.

Tom quickly looked around and was delighted that no one was around to see his dirty deed. He left the barbell where it lay—teetering like an abandoned seesaw at a playground. Of course, the world will be shocked, but in the end, they’ll chalk it up as a bad accident. The Bodybuilders Association will run safety ads stating the importance of having spotters to cover their asses from any lawsuits that may come up in the sport.

Suddenly Tom heard the roar of the outside crowd and rushed to take his place in line behind the other bodybuilders. He barely made it but felt confident that this competition would yield his first victory. In his eyes, no one else could hold a candle to his perfectly chiseled body except Mike, but he was just a fart in the wind now.

The crowd gasped and clapped fiercely as the bodybuilders walked onstage and performed their best poses. The judges watched in earnest, but Mike’s absence was noticed. His “no-show” would surely cost him, and a new bodybuilding champion would be crowned.

The competition featured ten rounds with various poses for each body part. The athletes were judged collectively as one so that only the best man could win. Muscle size, definition, serration, and symmetry all played a part, and the only way to determine a winner was to compare and contrast each athlete side by side.

In the final round, the judges selected Tom Lawry and Sammy Zain as the two finalists. Tom’s soul flew through the heavens because he knew he had won. There was a smell in the air and a powerful sense of victory radiating around the stage. It wasn’t something he could explain, but he felt it like a medium sensing a supernatural spirit.

At the judges’ commands, Tom and Sammy posed in a series of different moves so they could determine a final winner. They were magnificent indeed because the crowd was deafening. The two men were like Greek Gods showcasing their powers. Every time Tom hit a double bicep pose, the pop from the audience was overwhelming.

As the final round ended, there was a moment of silence as the judges reviewed their notes and talked amongst themselves. Tom and Sammy stood erect at the center of the stage with the other bodybuilders lined up behind them with looks of disdain plastered on their faces.

The primary judge stood, grabbed a microphone, and walked on stage. This was it. Tom closed his eyes and balled his fists. The crowd was silent but ready to burst like a ticking time bomb.

The judge took one final look at his index card, nodded, and shook Tom and Sammy’s hands. He faced the crowd, smiled, and announced, “The winner of this year’s competition and new champion of The Bodybuilder’s Express Tournament is… Sammy Zain!”

Tom opened his eyes, thinking his ears had deceived him. The room spun like a devastating tornado, and his knees buckled from the aftershocks of a powerful earthquake that rocked the arena. As Tom fell to the floor, the other bodybuilders hoisted Sammy up and handed him a three-foot-tall golden trophy. There was no doubt about it. Tom had lost… again.

Tom’s brother Jake gave him a reassuring look from the off-stage landing area, but the disappointment on his face was unmistakable. Tom recognized it all too well, for it was the same look his late father gave him after every contest.

The cheers and applause continued, but in that moment of victory and celebration—a loud, terrifying scream erupted backstage. Tom’s eyes popped even wider as there was no doubt someone found Mike’s body. He watched as everyone raced through the red curtain to see what was going on and was left alone to drown in his defeat.

He wondered if all the blood, sweat, tears, and sacrifices were worth it. The answer was simple…

No, they weren’t.