Why I Love Weightlifting Part 4: Giants

One of the best parts of being involved in weightlifting for a long time is crossing paths with the people who built the sport—lifters and coaches whose influence still shapes how we train and think about it today. Over the years, I’ve been lucky to meet a few of them in person, and those encounters gave me a deeper respect for what true mastery looks like.

Yurik Vardanyan

I first came across Yurik Vardanyan while digging through an old online database of world championship results. His numbers from the 1981 Worlds—178 kg snatch and 223 kg clean and jerk at 82.5 kg bodyweight—stood out immediately. This was 2002, long before YouTube had everything, so footage of his lifts was rare.

About a year later, Lou sent me a VHS tapes labeled “Various Weightlifting.” Seeing Vardanyan lift was something else—his movement was sharp, fluid, and efficient. His jerk technique was particularly distinct: a short split, but the bar just popped overhead.

In 2005, I got the chance to meet him in person at the Arnold Sports Festival. I had become friends with his son, Norik, and was asked to help host them for the weekend—airport pickup, transport, meals.

Spending time with them was a mix of fan moment and learning experience. At dinner, Yurik reminded Norik to sit up straight, telling him to “always think about training.” During Norik’s warm-up, I helped load and got to train in front of Yurik the next day. He even gave me a few tips—something I still remember clearly.  The chance to train in front of Yurik was akin to a basketball player practicing in front of Michael Jordan.

Yurik Vardanyan passed away in 2018, but meeting him confirmed what his numbers and videos suggested: he was as sharp and composed in person as he was on the platform.

Paul Coffa

In 2007, at the Arnold Weightlifting Championships, I first saw Paul Coffa’s lifters—Manuel Minginfel and Yukio Peter—compete and win. I didn’t meet Paul that year, but I noticed the toughness and energy his athletes brought.

About a year later, I read about the Oceania Weightlifting Institute, which Paul had built from the ground up. I sent him an email out of curiosity, not expecting a reply. He wrote back with a friendly note and a few photos of his place in New Caledonia—ocean view and pool included.

We traded a few emails after that. I sent him a picture of my gym with eight platforms; he mentioned he started with two. It was a small comment, but it stuck with me—progress starts small.

Paul’s story is one of persistence. After years coaching in Australia, he moved to Nauru to build a national program from scratch, then later established the Oceania Institute, which eventually settled in New Caledonia. He poured his own time and money into it, and it became a powerhouse for Pacific weightlifting.

In 2010, I finally met him when he came to the Arnold with Itte Detenamo. I helped them in the warm-up room—loading, counting, learning. He was direct, organized, and generous with his time. The next year, he brought a full team, and I was glad to help again.

Paul showed what’s possible when you combine energy with follow-through. He didn’t just talk about developing the sport; he built the infrastructure to make it happen.

Final Thoughts

Meeting people like Yurik Vardanyan and Paul Coffa reminded me that weightlifting isn’t just about big lifts—it’s about people who move the sport forward in their own ways. Both men approached it with focus, precision, and purpose.

If you get the chance to meet the people who’ve shaped your sport, take it. You may walk away with a new perspective on what’s possible.