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The year is 1980 and at the Mr. Olympia competition, the winner is about to be announced. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, feel free to read my 2nd post here. The tension was high — and finally, the winner was announced. The winner was Arnold Schwarzenegger. The crowd started booing. The other competitors were furious. Frank Zane, who placed 3rd, smashed his trophy in the changing room. The competition was set to air on television, but the result forced the IFBB to pull it. In 1981, several bodybuilders who were considered favourites boycotted the event entirely and didn’t show up. And Mike Mentzer? He retired from competitive bodybuilding at the age of 29 and went into a downward spiral for years afterwards.

But why did all of this happen? Why the outrage? And at the end of the day — why does it matter? To understand that, we need to go back a few years.

Arnold had supposedly retired from bodybuilding in 1975. By then, he had become the face of the Mr. Olympia competition — highly recognisable, and perfectly positioned to advertise the sport on a global scale. So the first issue was clear: Arnold was working for the very organisation that ran the competition. A slight conflict of interest, but nothing too alarming yet. What made things more complicated was that Arnold was also taking his first steps in Hollywood. At the time of the 1980 competition, he was filming Conan the Barbarian — a project that would introduce him to audiences far beyond the bodybuilding world. Filming is a gruelling process, and it left him little time to prepare. His physique was still impressive, but it was nowhere near the condition that had earned him his previous titles. Meanwhile, Mike Mentzer, Boyer Coe, Chris Dickerson, and several others were arguably at the peak of their careers. As Mentzer would later put it: “I’m not saying I should have won — I’m saying Arnold shouldn’t have.”

You’re starting to see the picture. The IFBB saw a golden opportunity — a living legend of bodybuilding, now on his way to becoming a Hollywood star. What better way to sell your product than by crowning the ultimate champion? Accepting this uncomfortable truth will remove a great deal of frustration from your life. People lie. Especially when there is significant money involved.

Why It Matters

We live in a world dominated by social media and self-proclaimed experts. In the fitness industry especially, we are surrounded by enviable physiques, apparent talent, success, and seemingly perfect lives. We compare all of that to our own reality — and suddenly feel inadequate, behind, not enough. But that comparison is built on a false foundation, because people will always hide the skeletons in the closet and show you only their finest cutlery.

A few examples — and you can fill in the blanks however you like. That person claiming you can achieve impressive flexibility in a month? Chances are they’re a former gymnast or dancer. The fitness model promoting their programme as the secret to a perfect body? Many are using performance-enhancing drugs or have had surgery. The influencer living what appears to be a flawless life? They have a full marketing team behind them and dedicate four to six hours a day to curating their image.

Kayla Itsines built one of the most recognisable fitness brands in the world on the back of transformation photos. Millions of women bought into the Bikini Body Guides programme — and why wouldn’t they? The before and after images were striking. What wasn’t advertised quite as clearly was how those images were produced. Lighting, posture, angles, timing, and in many cases significant post-processing all played their part. The “after” photo was often taken within hours of the “before.” The transformation wasn’t weeks of hard work — it was a change of stance and a ring light. That is not to say the workouts don’t have value. But selling hope through manufactured evidence is a different thing entirely.

The Liver King was a perfect case study in a different direction entirely. He built an entire brand around an “ancestral lifestyle” — claiming that raw meat and primal habits were the reason he looked the way he did. It later emerged that his monthly spend on anabolic drugs could have funded a small community. In a world of constant exposure, separating truth from performance is harder than ever. Whenever someone tells me about the next thing that will change everything, my first question is always the same: “How much does it cost?” Because a lot of this comes down to monetising people’s fears, insecurities, and desires.

The Real Ones

I have been fortunate enough to meet some remarkable mentors throughout my career. Almost all of them were people who never elevated themselves through words — only through their actions. The best ones are insecure, imperfect, and obsess over the smallest details. They evolve, change their opinions, retrain, and are never rigidly set in their ways. Because that is how genuine excellence is built — not by believing you already have all the answers and packaging it up to sell.

“What you see is not what you get — and knowing that might be the most valuable thing you take away from this.”