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Weighty Issues : In Powerlifting, They Pop Pills and Just Say No to Profanity

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Times Staff Writer

Rick Couch, who weighs 143 1/2 pounds, is moments away from trying to lift 340 pounds at the Southern California Bench-Press Championships in Granada Hills. Straddling the bench, he is working himself into a rage, standard procedure in the man vs. iron confrontation. Then he sits, braces himself and pops an ammonia capsule under his nose. Kick-started by the pungent odor--an effect contestants liken to “a slap in the face”--Couch makes a successful lift as the audience of 75 whoops it up.

Another contestant lies on the bench and attempts to push 360 pounds over his chest. But about halfway up, he hits “the wall” and spotters have to help him rack the bar. “Damn!” he mutters in frustration. Suddenly, a judge’s thumb goes down, signaling that the lifter is being cautioned for swearing, which is not permitted.

Welcome to the confusing world of powerlifting, where stimulants are more acceptable than profanity and the rules vary from meet to meet and association to association. The Granada Hills meet was sanctioned by the United States Powerlifting Federation, which is vying for control of the sport with the American Drug-Free Powerlifting Assn.

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Drug-free means no steroids. The USPF, while not condoning steroid use, does not mandate drug testing at all meets, as does the ADFPA.

“This is not a ‘clean meet,’ ” said Chris Kostas, owner of Wright’s Gym, the sponsor of the Southern California championships. One veteran competitor estimated that at least half the men in the contest used steroids.

“Drug testing is enormously expensive, at least $130 per athlete, “ said Don Haley, the head referee who identified himself as the state powerlifting chairman. He looked around at the sparse crowd in the auditorium at Granada Hills High. “The audience here will not support that type of expense.”

It is doubtful that powerlifting will ever be contested at the Coliseum with millions watching on TV. There is not a trace of glitter to the sport, not even on the flat-black weights themselves. It is as down home and basic as mashed potatoes. And powerlifters, unlike the Pumping Iron set, are not interested in making their bodies beautiful. Many are built like Ron Saraguchi, a high school geometry teacher from Fresno. Saraguchi is 5 feet, 3 inches, has a massive upper body and can lift 440 pounds.

The roots of powerlifting go back to the days of the caveman. Today, their ancestors do the bench-press, the dead lift and the squat, all of which are more pedestrian than Olympic weightlifting events--the snatch and the clean and jerk. And while Olympic lifters need speed and coordination, powerlifters do not care much about style or technique. It is strictly brute strength. The thrill comes from beating gravity.

“The challenge is within yourself,” said Allison Waltz of Clovis, competing in her second meet. “The more you work at it, the stronger you become.”

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Waltz and five other women were entered in the open division, the only category for women. The 28 male contestants competed in nine divisions. The group assembled at 7:45 a.m. last Sunday for a weigh-in.

Immediately before the 10 a.m. start, the lifters met in the warm-up area behind the curtain on the auditorium stage. The referees went over some of the rules. “Raising your butt off the bench means disqualification,” Haley said. “And sinkers better watch it--if the bar comes down after you get stopped and the referees see it, that’s good for a red light.”

Bud Mucci of Northridge, another referee, warned the contestants about their language. “Once you get on the platform, there’s no profanity,” he said.

Haley also explained that no state records could be set despite the USPF sanction. State records could be set only at a meet in which all three powerlifting events (bench-press, squat, dead lift) were contested.

“We’re trying to change that,” he told the contestants.

After the briefing, the lifters took turns warming up, the women’s bench on one side of the stage, the men’s on the other. Kimberly Alves of Burbank coated her hands with chalk and reclined apprehensively under a bar holding 100 pounds. Spotting for her was a hulking Robert dos Remedios, her boyfriend and trainer who had talked her into entering her first meet.

“She’s good for her size,” said Dos Remedios, who knew that Alves did not have to be a bruiser to win the gold-plated, first-place trophy. The women were being judged on the basis of the so-called Schwartz/Malone Formula, which takes into account the size-weight differential of the contestants. Alves weighed only 107 3/4 but won the women’s title even though a lot of the other women lifted more weight.

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Alves also avoided the epidemic of fouls that plagued other contestants. There was a discrepancy over whether feet had to be planted on the ground and the referees disqualified many lifters who rose up on their toes.

“The judging is bad,” complained Couch, of Fresno, who also trained five men and five women for the contest. “My team is having problems with fouling. The refs are using the old rules. We haven’t gone to a meet all year where we weren’t allowed to go up on our toes.”

Haley disagreed. “If other referees let them, they didn’t know their job,” he said. “At a lot of meets, there aren’t any qualified refs in the chair.”

Haley and the three other referees all had decades of experience in powerlifting, they said. Haley, 70, is in his 50th year as an official. He and his wife Fran live in Los Alamitos and are one of the few husband-wife refereeing teams in the country. It’s a hobby and they don’t get paid, he said. “This costs us.”

During a break in the action, Haley was asked about the use of the ammonia capsules. “We don’t really like it,” he said, “but it’s the only legitimate stimulant we allow.” The fumes are OK, he said, because “there is no scientific evidence to say that they can help someone lift more. You feel a zing, but it’s psychological.”

And on swearing: “There are little kids here,” he said. “This isn’t like baseball where you can kick dirt on an umpire’s shoes. Swearing doesn’t help lifting one bit.”

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