FIRST IMPRESSIONS
It was July 20, 1985, and I was on my way to England’s West Coast Championships being staged in the seaside town of Morecambe. I worked for the British magazine Muscle & Co at the time, and for months I’d heard that a bodybuilder from Birmingham was making quite an impression on those observing his progress. His name was Dorian Yates (which I always thought sounded like a character from Wuthering Heights) and he was making his debut in the intermediate class at the aforementioned West Coast soiree. Unfortunately, thanks to a horrendous traffic jam, I was hours late reaching the town’s Central Pier, the venue for the contest.

As I entered the hall I asked someone if the intermediates had been on and was told they were just about ready to start the posing round for that class. I spotted Frank Richards on the far side of the hall who’d recently finished fifth at New York’s Night of Champions — his first contest in 14 years. I went to congratulate him on his Olympia qualifying performance and we moved to the side of the hall. I asked him, on the basis of such a great result, how long would he go on competing? A couple of years was his reply. I was surprised and asked, why so? As I finished the question I heard the opening techno riff of The Eurythmics Sweet Dreams (Are Made of These) throbbing from the sound system. Frank looked over my shoulder and nodding at the competitor just appearing, said, “Because of guys like that coming through.” I turned, and to the background of the purring tones of Annie Lennox had my first sight of Dorian Yates.

What hit me immediately was his rock-hard, chiseled muscularity. He resembled a walking statue and his 210-pound blend of mass, shape and hardness had quality written all over it. But in recalling that first Dorian sighting the other main aspect that stands out in my mind was his purposeful walk toward center stage. He strode like an athlete sans the traditional exaggerated “Whoops! Mistook superglue for the underarm deodorant again” lat spread or the ponderous gait to hopefully indicate legs that made Tom Platz’s look like Amy Winehouse’s. Throughout his career, that’s how he’d walk out: all business, ready to take on all-comers. That no-nonsense man-at-work walk just summed Dorian up as a bodybuilder and as a man. I also noticed a slight stoop to his neck, and when I (some months later) asked why the stoop, he replied, “You’d have a stoop too if you had traps like mine.”

NEXT: Haney meets Yates.

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