Almost no one has ever been as good at what they do as Ed Coan was. Even the so-called all-time greats like Michael Jordan or Muhammad Ali or Pele end up falling short. That's not to take anything away from their individual accomplishments, it's just to clarify how impossible it is to be that much better than everyone else at what you do. Roger Federer was arguably the most dominant player in the history of tennis and yet, there were players who did not fear him and who beat him with some regularity (Rafa on clay being the obvious example). That's usually how it goes.
But during his 16 year run in the sport of powerlifting, Ed Coan was a nearly perpetual victim of something called the "Coan Effect", which means that when he announced his weight class for a tournament, the people in that weight class would scatter into whatever weight class was closest to them that did not involve having to compete against Ed Coan. Starvation diets and mass bulking programs were common. Whole tournaments shifted when Ed Coan changed weight classes. He was, as much as anyone, the center force from which all gravity in the sport is derived. I'm not kidding when I say that people dropped out of competitions to avoid competing against him. He really was that good.
So why haven't you heard of him? Mostly because his sport wasn't played on prime time television, his jerseys were not shilled by Champion or his shoes turned into a status symbol. Setting over 71 World Records just isn't good enough for mainstream fame. That's fair enough. I'm sure off in some corner somewhere, you could find the world's greatest cup-stacker being totally ignored by the press despite her obvious prowess. It's a cruel world like that, because it means we don't really appreciate greatness or mastery the way we pretend to. Oh sure, we admire greatness if it's in a few select categories but if it's outside of that, it's not that interesting to us. Most people can probably tell you who the greatest investor of all time is (Warren Buffet) but how many can tell you who the greatest insurance salesman of all time was? Our relationship to mastery in any field is a tricky one. We like to watch greatness, but we absolutely love to destroy (or see destroyed) that same person. It wasn't always this way. Babe Ruth wouldn't last through a day of popularity in the modern world before some blogger who couldn't find a baseball diamond with google maps would be posting some tripe about how he was really mean to short people (or some other thing) and that would be the start of the firestorm that would pull his whole career down. We have a complicated relationship with mastery, to be sure.
This whole question of mastery and our attitude toward it is something we should think about more than we do. So, as I'm reading this book about Coan, that's what I'm thinking about.
Overall, the book itself tends to be a little overly in love with it's subject. Granted, it's hard not to be impressed, but Marty (Coan's former Coach and a lifting legend in his own right both as a coach and as a competitor) has a hard time shaping this book beyond the sentence. The sentences are good, the paragraphs are fine, but the whole underlying structure feels weak and flimsy. It feels almost like he sat down to write this book with nothing more for ammunition than "people really need to know about this guy." While I agree with him on that, it's hardly enough to shape a book around.
I like to imagine that old Marty Gallagher is hunched over his typewriter between sets and slowly whipping this thing into shape. I pretend to myself that someday a "revised edition" will come along where Marty has had a chance to smooth out all the rough edges and really get this thing flying. Given how busy he is with other books, it's pretty unlikely, but that's what I choose to imagine.