A Westside Story

When I trained at Westside Barbell, we used the dynamic effort method to train our squats. We trained the squat using the dynamic effort method on Fridays. No more than two to three lifters would train the squat at one time, usually two. For most of the years I was at Westside, I squatted with Louie Simmons and different people would run the rack while we were training. Then when it was their turn to train, we would do the same.

Setting The Stage

The way the squat training structure was set up, rest periods would average between 45 and 60 seconds, at the very most 90 seconds between sets. One lifter would go, look at the clock on the wall and see where the second hand was, and then try to get back under the bar before that same time on the second hand came around again. This kept the rest periods in check. You weren't going too fast and you weren't going too slow. It allowed for the greatest training effect that we could get at the time. During one particular training session, I was helping the lifters that were squatting. When the lifters were squatting, there would be three people or more helping: one person running the rack, one person adjusting the height of the rack and another person adjusting the height of the box. We all box squatted.

Working Up 

On this one particular day, I was running the height of the rack. At the time there were two lifters that were training their squat so I only had to change the rack height a couple of holes; not too much. Lifters were going back-to-back with 60-second intervals. Every now and then we would work up after doing our dynamic squat work- five, eight or ten sets depending upon what was programmed for the day- usually eight. When we worked up, it was never programmed. It was usually based on somebody running their mouth, someone feeling particularly good that day and trying to make the other person feel like shit, or various other reasons. Countless times there was money thrown on the box. There was money thrown in the chalk bowl too. Bets were made. When somebody would start working up, we'd start taking bets on who was going to able to out-squat the other person.

Don't Miss

We would motivate them or demotivate them based upon where your bet was to work up to the best weight that they could. The only rules Louie really had in place for this was to not miss.  On this particular day, one of the lifters that we had been training with for a couple of years got up to a top weight, got underneath the bar, took it out fine, had no problems standing up with it. The person running the rack unleashed the monolift hooks and the lifter started yelling,

"Rack it, rack it, rack it, rack it, rack it!"

We racked it assuming something happened. Maybe he got hurt, something tore off, who knows?

Lost Confidence

We racked it, and he pulled himself out from under the bar, turned around, looked towards us (keep in mind there's six or seven people in any of these groups), and told us that he lost his confidence. That's the last, last fucking thing that you ever want to do with a group of guys that were training in the gym at the time. It's safe to say he caught some shit for that- not only on that day but every day. I would probably say almost every day for the next few years that he was still in the club before he moved back home. He was part of the club for a long time, so this wasn't a guy that came in, trained for six months and left. Even today when the guys get together that were part of that group at that time, one of the stories that pops up is when the guy turned around and said that he lost his confidence.

The shit that he got for that was unbelievable, and it was sometimes joking, sometimes serious, because who the fuck does that? Make up a lie. Say you tore your hamstring, but don't tell us you lost your fucking confidence.

Moral of the Story

Anyhow, the moral of the story is that about six months later, maybe more, he's at a meet. It's a national meet or a junior national meet. Either way, it was a fairly big meet. He was going to go for an 800-pound squat which was a PR squat for him. Anytime you're hitting a round number like that, a big number like that, it's a big thing, it's a big deal. He's getting ready for it, he gets to the chalk bowl and gets chalked up. His knees are wrapped, just suits up. He's mummified the best that you could possibly be for a multi-ply lifter. One of our other lifters comes by, and whacks him on the back of the neck as hard as he can and knocks this guy flat on his face.

Right there on the platform, six feet away from the bar, bar's loaded. He's flat on his face. We bust out laughing. Somehow or another he ends up rolling on his back, kicking his legs and swinging his arms because he can't get up. He's got wraps on and a suit on. There's no way he can get up, so he starts yelling,

"I can't get up, I can't up!"

Now the person that smacked him in the back of the neck had no ill intentions whatsoever. He was just trying to motivate the guy, get him fired up for the lift. Meanwhile,  by this time he had bolted out of the room, and I think was somewhere in the hotel kitchen by the time the rest of this story proceeds. The guys get him up on his feet. The judges allow him to still attempt the weight even though at this point in time he's had his knee wraps on for probably five minutes, maybe more.

PR Squat

He gets under the weight, third attempt weight, stands up with it and ends up squatting 800 pounds. He squats a PR! Thinking back on this now, close to 20 years later, we did him a favor with all the shit that we gave him about not having the confidence to take the weight out in the gym because when it came time for him to really have the confidence, it was fucking there. We would have done him a disservice to not drill his ass the entire time he was in the gym all those years and all those training days to just let it go and say, "It's okay," and coddle him because when the day came when he really fucking needed it, he had it.
That's what matters!

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