The late-afternoon sun is white and hot, and it bleaches the blue sky. The ocean is a pale aqua-green. It is as clear and warm as a drawn bath. A soft, insistent ocean breeze rustles the big, faded yellow-green fronds of the palm trees. The sunbathers are the color of light coffee. Each lies on the sand, one knee indolently flexed, on a blanket whose color has been drained by the sun. Another languid sun-drenched day on Fort Lauderdale's beach.
In the dark low-ceilinged basement lounge of the Candy Store bar, the arm wrestlers are getting edgy. They have been taking turns "locking up" on- stage and then pulling on one another's arms for four hours now. There is a break in the action as the chiropractor, in white, manipulates the arm of an injured competitor. The emcee grabs the microphone; he does not like to see arm wrestlers get edgy, not even if he is Keith D. Jones, a 6-ft. 1-in., 290- lb. Filipino American from Redondo Beach, Calif., who was once the superheavyweight arm-wrestling champion of the world. Jones coached Sylvester Stallone in the arm-wrestling movie Over the Top. He taught Stallone how to curl his opponent's wrist inward to weaken it and how to psych out an opponent by puffing out his cheeks like an adder's and bulging his eyes widely, as if he were having some sort of fit. He also taught Stallone to turn his baseball cap backward to imply he was ready for business.
"There's more psyching in arm wrestling than in any sport," says Jones. "Technique is important too." He raises his right forearm, which is about the size of a side of beef. "Strength counts too." He smiles behind dark sunglasses.
Jones, who is emceeing this afternoon's Southern States International Arm Wrestling Council championships, describes himself as a "mild-mannered guy." He works as an actor, a bodyguard and sometimes as a bouncer at Tequilla Willie's. He doesn't have much trouble with drunken customers, he says, because if they misbehave, "I just rip their arms off." He smiles again behind his dark shades. "Just kidding. Really, arm wrestlers are nice guys. See that guy over there? He killed his parents. Just kidding."
Jones does admit that serious arm wrestlers can be a touch eccentric. They have names like the Ripper, Goliath and the Punta Gorda Maniac. Their appearance often belies their nicknames. Bib overalls. Shaved heads. Tattoos and earrings. One female competitor is so androgynous and muscular that she was once arrested and handcuffed for trying to enter a ladies' room. There are stories that Bruce ("the Animal") Way eats cigars and crickets and washes them down with motor oil. When he approaches the arm-wrestling table, he turns toward his fans and blows them a kiss. A white bird flies out of his mouth.