Grip It & Rip It - My Day at a Professional Arm Wrestling Competition

It’s 11:00 am on a Saturday. A slight headache and dizziness underline my

hangover as I enter the culture house in Valby. The Copenhagen nightlife was

too tempting, and I’d only be reporting from the Nordic championship of arm

wrestling, not the Olympic Winter Games, or so I thought. As soon as I enter

the room, and the smell of chalk hits, I realize that I was wrong. It’s crowded.

There are about 100 people, maybe 150. Two things stand out: the different

flags on the jackets and the Mohawk of Kasper from Finland. People actually

put in some miles and minutes in front of the mirror to be here. Fighters come

from Ukraine, Poland, Germany, Finland, Sweden, and more than five clubs in

Denmark. I regret the last beer of the night before, and get myself into some

Olympic spirit as I chug some water and start talking to the fighters.

Arm wrestling as a competitive sport might evoke images of bulky men who

break their adversaries' arms over a wooden bar counter somewhere in Texas. 

A lot of this goes back to Sylvester Stallone’s 1986 movie “Over the Top,” in

which he plays a single father and truck driver who fights for his son while

competing in arm wrestling matches. This movie comes up in nearly every

conversation I have with arm wrestlers today and has massively increased the

popularity of competitive arm wrestling. The scenes I see today are very

different, though. No big, loud, tough guys, more smiles, handshakes, and

getting to know each other. But enough of the harmony, we’re still here to see

the ultimate test of (masculine) strength: arm wrestling, baby!

The premise of arm wrestling is pretty straightforward, and doesn’t differ too

much from what I have been doing in high school to impress my crush (which

failed miserably). Two people face each other, lock their hands, and try to

wrestle down the other’s arm. The main thing that sets everyone around me

today apart from my high school self is one thing: technique. While I just tried

to push down my friend’s arm by sheer force, the professional arm wrestlers

are pulling their opponents toward themselves and then putting their full

bodyweight into the movement. Mass moves mass. This way, they try to “pin

down” their opponents. On a competitive level, this is done within a whole

array of rules that I won’t bother you with just now.

My crash course in arm wrestling gets interrupted by one of the fighters, who

mentions that Thomas Bo Larsen is here. For a second, I believe he might be

a famous arm wrestler, but he goes on: “He’s a very famous actor, always

plays a tough alcoholic kinda role.” A quick Google search later, I realize that I

have seen him in “Festen” and “Druk.” He’s actually pretty big in Denmark.

Like really big. The journalist in me senses a great story. I catch him at one of

the practice tables in the back of the room and approach him. Slightly

star-struck, slightly hungover, I start by telling him the whole story about how I

wrote an article about this event and how excited I am to see him here. I

cringe inside myself, but am surprised by how chill he reacts. He tells me he’s

part of the arm-wrestling club in Copenhagen. I ask him about his movie roles

and try to euphemize the character description of “tough alcoholic.” But while

I’m trying that, he says, “I always play a crazy motherfucker.”

What a cool guy. He says he started arm wrestling two years ago, after owning

a boxing club for disadvantaged men for 12 years. He sees some similarity in

the two sports in their face-to-face nature. “It’s very lonely.” Today he’s here

because of a friend. I ask whether his often masculine roles fit this sport, and

he reaffirms what I already thought. “When I first went to the training, I

expected there to be these big, tough guys, but the reality is very different;

they’re actually very nerdy.” He points out how everyone is extremely friendly and helpful.  By being here, he adds some glamour, some spotlight to the sport.

But the fighters I talk to are actually not most excited about the actor, but

about “Hellboy.” The German arm wrestler, whose real name is Matthias

Schlitte, has said he would participate. In the world of arm wrestling, he’s a

celebrity. He has a huge right arm, and this makes him one of the best

right-handed fighters in the world. For now, there is no Hellboy in sight, and

the tournament starts with the elimination round for the left arms.

Eliminations left

Tournaments in arm wrestling are usually structured this way: It starts with

elimination rounds for each arm. Fighters can sign up for both arms, or only

one, in their designated weight class. The elimination works with “double

elimination,” meaning a fighter has to lose twice to be out. The undefeated go

straight to the finals, the ones who lost only once fight for their spot in the

“losers' bracket.” In the finals, the undefeated takes on the winner of the

“losers’ bracket” for the title in the specific arm and weight class. This is

usually a best-of-three match.

Epic motivational music plays as the first fighters take the stage. I use the time

to talk to Benny, who stands next to me. I ask him how he got into the sport,

and he starts talking. He likes to talk about arm wrestling. Everyone here likes

to talk about it. I can feel the excitement. “I’m 67, the oldest here today,” he

says. He tells me he has wrestled the Washington State champion in arm

wrestling and recounts some meetings with Harley-Davidson guys in US bars.

That sounds more like the Sylvester Stallone movie now. For him, the sport is

rising in popularity here in Denmark; he himself only started five years ago.

“And look at him, he’s one for the future,” he points to William, who’s standing

next to us. The 15-year-old isn’t competing today, but still joined to practice

with some of the big guys and see some of his inspirations. The talkative

Benny and the quieter William are different, not only because of the 50 years

between them, but both of them are united in their love for arm wrestling. “I became
addicted,” says William. I admire that dedication.

Epic motivational music plays as the first fighters take the stage. I use the time

to talk to Benny, who stands next to me. I ask him how he got into the sport,

and he starts talking. He likes to talk about arm wrestling. Everyone here likes

to talk about it. I can feel the excitement. “I’m 67, the oldest here today,” he

says. He tells me he has wrestled the Washington State champion in arm

wrestling and recounts some meetings with Harley-Davidson guys in US bars.

That sounds more like the Sylvester Stallone movie now. For him, the sport is

rising in popularity here in Denmark; he himself only started five years ago.

“And look at him, he’s one for the future,” he points to William, who’s standing

next to us. The 15-year-old isn’t competing today, but still joined to practice

with some of the big guys and see some of his inspirations. The talkative

Benny and the quieter William are different, not only because of the 50 years

between them, but both of them are united in their love for arm wrestling. “I

became addicted,” says William. I admire that dedication.Benny, 67, is the oldest participant today. “It’s never too late to start,” he says.

The elimination round advances quickly. Some matches are decided really

fast. An arm wrestling match usually lasts from a few seconds to a few

minutes. The latter seems to happen as rarely as a lunar eclipse, it seems to

me, watching the first matches. A pretty big contrast to the 90 minutes I’m

used to from football. The pins now happen back-to-back, and despite still

trying to sort out all the rules, I find myself enjoying the fast pace. The Eye of

the Tiger plays, and I feel like I’m finally in for the epic vibe I imagined while

watching “Over The Top”.

Next up is Dawid. He’s from Poland and competes in the 70-kilo class.All seems normal, but he takes some time to come to the stage after he’s called up. Finally, he comes on crutches. He struggles to get up the three

stairs. Apparently, he has some sort of condition. He already participated in

the para-classes in arm wrestling. What exactly he has, no one can tell me.

Despite that, he completely destroys his opponent. I cheer for the first time

today. What an incredible guy. In a quiet moment after his fight, I approach

him, congratulate him, and want to ask him some questions. I see some good

material for an inspiring arm wrestling story. He immediately says, “English is

bad, sorry.” And I just say “Respect!” and shake his hand. And probably that’s

all there is to say. He’s here like everyone else; no one makes a big deal out

of his disability, and he still beats ass, or better, arms. That’s the only thing

that counts today.

The elimination round of the left arms continues, and closer to its end, the

main man appears. I’m taking some pictures of the stage when I hear some

German being spoken behind me. That must be him. Hellboy. At this point, I

have had three bottles of water and a banana. My hangover is nearly gone,

I’m reborn and feel confident to approach today's main act. “Hellboy!” I said

before continuing the conversation in German. I realize I actually forgot his

real name and wonder for a second if he might feel a bit thrown off by my

approach, but he seems to like his nickname. He responds super nicely, and I

realize once more that Thomas was right. Everyone here is super friendly.

We talk about his background; he rocks a shirt of his club, VfL Wolfsburg, with

multiple sponsors. He’s the only one with a shirt like this today. I’m pretty sure

that he’s the only one with sponsors. I ask him if he can live off of arm

wrestling, but he says no. He just gets some money, but besides that, Hellboy

also has a regular job. He works in youth care, which once more surprises me.

Not a single truck driver here. We talk about his career, and this goes way

back. He was born with a gene defect that led to his right arm being very big;

the midwife told his mother that “her son would be a boxer.” Close enough.

Since 2004, he has been arm wrestling, quite a natural decision if nature (or

god) gave you this kind of arm.

The rest is arm wrestling heritage. Next to multiple national and international

titles, and TV appearances, one achievement stands out for me. He set up the

Guinness World Record for the most arm wrestling matches in 24 hours. A

whopping 1064 matches. An unreal number. During that time, he took on a full

squad of firefighters, and the most astonishing thing is that he only lost 15

games in total. I realize that I’m talking to a proper legend. Despite his fame,he’s very humble. It’s still a niche sport after all, and he says everyone knows

each other. Some will have a beer after the competition. That’s the spirit.

After two and a half hours, the eliminations for the left arms finish. A 30-minute

break awaits. Some fighters use their stretch bands to keep their arms busy,

and all around, I see knitted arm warmers meant to keep the muscles warm

between fights. In the midst of lively chatter and vast amounts of food being

devoured, I see Martin. He’s the organizer of everything and can’t catch a

break. We talk a bit while he sets up the lunch for the volunteers; everything

today is run by volunteers. I find that quite impressive. He points out that club

structures, in general, need to be promoted more so that events like this

become more feasible. Seems reasonable to me. I ask him if he had

experienced any difficulties in organizing the event, as if his constant rushing

around doesn’t already answer that. But apparently the real issue came

yesterday evening, when one of the people he had arranged a hotel for didn’t

show up on time, so the room was canceled. He had to drive through

Copenhagen at night, desperately searching for an alternative room. But

everything worked out somehow. Just as today, everything works somehow.

Martin offers me some lunch before he goes to the table of the match

observers who keep track of all the fights. Passion really can move mountains,

or at least organize an awesome tournament, I think to myself.

Eliminations right

“Du hast” by Rammstein plays. Back to business. It’s 2 pm, and I’m recharged

for the right-arm eliminations. Matches get more heated. Some fighters’ hands

slip out, and they have to be “strapped.” A pretty common thing to happen. To

prevent slipping out again, the fighters' hands are secured to a strap. Some

fighters slip out on purpose, I’m being told. It’s all part of a technique.

Right arm also means that Hellboy finally makes his debut today. When he

steps on the stage, everyone is watching more closely. The referees' setup

takes a long time. Everything has to be correct. I feel like I can see some fear

in his opponent's eyes, but maybe that’s the journalist in me trying to add

some suspense. Another minute or something passes, and his opponent

really tries to control everything he can. The referees give their go, and after

one second, Hellboy pins him down. All this preparation just for Hellboy to win

within seconds. That will be a common sight during Matthias’ next matches.

Next to Hellboy, another fighter stands out. Mikkel, from the Aarhus team, is

pinning down one guy after another. He’s a bit bigger and participates in the

95-kilo and 105-kilo classes. Multiple fighters mention his name when I ask

them who the best fighter from Denmark is. He just came back from the World

Championship in Azerbaijan, where he won silver in his class. He actually is

outstanding. My local patriotism for the Aarhus team makes me cheer for him

as he knocks down arms as if they were toothpicks. I met him during training

before, and he also fits the image of the nice arm wrestler from next door. He works in a kindergarten and is the complete opposite of a loud showman. The

absolute first thing he does after winning yet again is to shake his opponent's

hand. He doesn’t scream, he doesn’t celebrate, he just wins.

I sit with some others from the Aarhus team. There’s Rasmus, Joe, Christoffer,

and Oskar. All are doing outstanding in their weight classes. Christoffer and

Oskar are dominating the 86kg class on both arms, and Joe and Rasmus are

killing it in the 70 kg class. I went to a couple of the guys' training sessions

beforehand and feel somewhat proud to see them succeed on stage today.

The eliminations come to a close, and the fighters prepare for the finals.

Finals

Crunchtime. Thunderstruck by AC/DC underlines the importance of what

comes next. The fighters are eating as much as possible. Christoffer, who

even brought his own stove, explains it to me. “You try to get as many carbs in

as possible for your muscles.” Next to that, he completes a Rubik's Cube with

an ease that amazes me. “To keep blood in my fingers.” He says.

I’m far away from completing any Rubik's Cube, but to get myself into the final

spirit, I head to the back room for the fridge. There’s some beer, untouched up

until now. My phone says 17:00, late enough to grab a beer and give my

hangover the last push. My own personal battle today. In the backrooms, I

meet the referees. If I had to draw a referee, it would probably look like the

ones here. Their black-and-white striped shirts make it unmistakably clear

who’s in charge. On their belt, they carry their weapon of choice: straps to tie

the fighter's hands together if needed. The two officials, Judy and Matthew,

are from Poland. They are pros. She says she officiates in 15 to 20

tournaments per year. It takes an awful lot to become an arm wrestling

referee. They have to be on top of everything. The proper position of the

hands, shoulders pointing the correct way, and no fouls being committed.

Apparently, the elbow foul is the most common, which pretty much means that

one of the fighter’s elbows was lifted from the pad. I expected something more

along the lines of fistfights breaking out. But that’s also the reality of arm

wrestling, it’s a very regulated sport. Everything has its rule, and I give up

trying to understand all of them today. Maybe that also keeps it from becoming

mainstream. Often, the setup takes longer than the actual fight.

I open my Tuborg can, wish the referees good luck, and save my spot for the

finals

Tensions are increasing a bit now. Some shouts are heard on the tables.

Multiple finals take place, followed by a quick medal ceremony. The podium is

set on stage, and the first finals are underway. Thomas Bo Larsen is the one

giving out the medals to the lucky winners.

An all-Aarhus match takes place for the left arm in the 86-kilo class. Oscar

takes on Christoffer. An epic match unfolds over a few minutes. Both are

struggling a lot. It’s the kind of match that’s an advertisement for the sport. I

notice my upper body going up and down with anticipation. At last, Oscar pins

down Christoffer’s arm and gives off a mighty scream. First thing after that is a

hug for his opponent and friend. Now we’re talking. I’m hyped.

Mikkel, the golden boy, takes the stage for four finals, both hands for 95 and

105 kilos. Quick resume, he wins them all. Two finals get a bit tighter, but

Mikkel is just too good. He takes his spot on the podium without much show

and happily receives his medals.

The man himself, Hellboy, takes the stage to win. He tells me that a bad result

at the world championship annoyed him. In a way, he’s here to redeem

himself. Again, no real suspense is needed; he easily wins his final for the

right arm in the 78-kilo class. He seems relieved. Everyone else also seems to

be a bit happy for him.

The finals continue, and I have one last thing on my mind: the gender gap. I

count five women competing today. There's no such thing as weight classes

for female fighters because there simply aren't enough fighters signed up.

What is the reason, besides the obvious Sylvester Stallone connotation, for

this sport? Erika from Finland says that it might be because “women hate

losing,” which is bad because “you’ll lose your first ten competitions.” I see

what she means, but on the other hand, one could say that winning was never

easier due to the lack of female competitors. Maybe it comes down to a

missing outreach. Star, from Sweden, tells me that it is tough to get into the

sports when you’re the only woman among 15 men, something that happens

to her frequently. She encourages more women to join and try it out. I can

agree. I also realize that the environment is surprisingly non-sexist for such a

male-dominated sport. While some football fans would rather lose a leg than

watch a women’s football match, here, every guy cheers for the female fighters.

After Pull

The last match ends, and I’m slightly relieved. My hangover is replaced by

exhaustion, but to my surprise, this is not the end yet. Someone walks past

me and says, “Now the real fun starts, the After Pull.” I don’t need an

explanation to understand what this means. Everyone wrestles everyone now,

no matter which weight class, arm, or gender you competed in. The

atmosphere turns very social. Everyone is chatting, sharing tips and

techniques, and matches are happening all around. A crowd of people gathersaround Helboy. Everyone wants to see if they might have a chance against

the German. In my exhaustion, I zone out for a bit. Standing between all of

those athletes, I find it amazing how social and involved everyone here is. It’s

not about the prizes, it’s about the passion. The “After Pull” is the best

example for that. In other sports, it’s about the big stars or about winning the

most titles; here, it’s about taking part and enjoying the ride. I think back to

what Martin said, that the club structure needs to be supported. I couldn’t

agree more. People find so much in these niche sports, and today I even think

the world would be a bit better, or at least friendlier, if everyone wrestled some arms down from time to time.