Poor old Zane. First he broke his penis, then he broke his trophy. Mike Mentzer lost the 80 Olympia then later lost the will to live.
There are others even less fortunate. Angry little men who live with regret. 43 years later, still angry at themselves for having listened to the wrong advices. Their only recourse is to, impotently, jab at the Austrian Oak, posting endlessly on internet forums, attempting to detract from Arnold's accomplishments, not having any of their own to focus on instead. Waging a never ending war against reality. Looking in the mirror each morning telling themselves that Arnold stole the 80 Olympia. They cannot come to a consensus on who should've won; they only know that it shouldn't have been Arnold. These people live an empty existence, knowing the lies they tell themselves carry about as much weight as Rocky telling Mick he won the first match against Clubber Laing. Only, unlike Mick, these little men must go on living, knowing the truth.
Their inability to cope makes you wonder: would they trade in the last years of their lives if it would produce total consciousness on their deathbed? To no longer be haunted, daily, by the thought of Arnold's victory propelling him into a superstardom beyond their wildest imagination? Knowing the thoroughly uninspred existence that would come to define their own legacy?
