---

Up, up, up until a
record goes down

THE bar seemed to pause for just a split second. It looked like it might start vibrating, but didn't. Then, slowly, rising with the noise level, it went up, up, up.

Kelson Silva weighed in yesterday at 113.4 pounds.

He bench-pressed 270 pounds.

That's a world record.

And it took about as long to do as it did to read this far.

When he did it the crowd let him hear it, yesterday, at the World Association of Bench Press and Deadlifters 2005 Hawaii Power Lifting Meet. When his elbows locked the room went nuts.

Which is saying something for a room of competitive weight lifters.

Silva had never lifted that much before. Never in his life, not once. He tried 275 back in the gym, at the Waialua Health Club. No can. The spotters had to rescue him.

But yesterday -- up, up, up.

"Just adrenaline, ah?" Silva said.

Yeah. You can breathe it, in this room. Silva's cheers weren't even the biggest of the day, not by far. There was the breathing, the panting, the moaning, the screaming.

And that was just me, watching in the back.

And the competitors -- a couple yelped, barking themselves into the zone. There were a lot of ways to psyche up. One wore orange Chuck Taylor shoes.

They wear weight-lifting clothes that are so tight it helps with the bench-pressing motion (it's like a push up, only with a weight, lying on your back) -- so tight their arms are thrust forward into a permanent "Hans and Franz."

So tight it's a two-man operation to hemo shirt.

This sport is the anti-golf. The whole gallery is yelling, yet nobody's drinking.

A burly "SECURITY" crew surrounds the stage. Not just one guy or two, but several.

"They keep people from snapping on the judges," the announcer said.

Yes, that's another thing about weight lifting. The funny announcer.

It was like Fred Willard in "Best in Show."

(I told you this wasn't golf.)

Competitor Dean Yamada gets "Dean -- Yamada stay calling you!"

After a lift is discounted by the judges' red lights: "If was in the gym, was good!"

Plus, the best part, the guy goes by one name: "Champ."

He knew one of the most reliable techniques in comedy -- keep going to a joke until everyone in the audience gives in. Yesterday's running gag: Somebody had stolen his event T-shirt.

After a guy benched 469 pounds, the much smaller "Champ" challenged: "Was you?"

(The security crew countered that the missing shirt must be a size "medium.")

Yes, this is definitely a different sport.

Good fun, though. Everybody was positive, while I was there at the Waikiki Beach Marriott. Everybody cheered for everybody, celebrated each other's triumphs. That bar going up was a victory for all.

Silva was too modest to tell me that the WABDL world record for Teen Men 16-19 that he broke was his own. But that didn't take away any of the thrill. It simply meant it was more than a world record -- it was the best he's ever done.

He'd played football, basketball, baseball as a 120-pounder at Waialua -- he graduated last spring. As an old man of 18 now he's packed it on to almost 130 pounds. He's been on a diet the last few weeks to break the record in the 114-pound class again.

He was one of several lifters from Waialua yesterday. Another one, his big brother Keola, was the one who taught him how to concentrate, to clear out his mind and think of nothing but elevating that weight.

One hundred thirteen pounds, pressing 270.

Afterward, everybody hugged him. He was tired and feeling good. He'd done it again. How? How is this impossible math problem solved? Determination? Physics? Technique?

"Just push," he said.