Today at the gym, some wrestler guy came in to do bench press. I watched him from the squat rack in between sets, and decided he had the ugliest form I'd ever seen. At the bottom of every single rep, he would slam the bar into his chest, heave it upwards, and hump the air with the most intense pelvic thrusts I've ever seen (insert gay porn joke here). I mean every time it was: *thud* *airhump* *thud* *airhump*.
So anyway he works his way up to about 240 on the bar, and I ask him if he needs a spotter. He's like, "yeah I think I do." So I said, "OK," and got behind the bench. That's when he tells me he's going for 8 reps. Spotting for those 8 reps comprised some of the most painful moments of my life. That bar pounded him so hard every time it went down that it made me cringe. The last five inches of every rep he just let the weight drop, and his sternum buckled something fierce under it. I'm CPR certified, but I would have been flat flunked from the course if I pressed someone's chest half as hard as he was getting it. I felt so bad for this dude.
An eternity later, he gets his 8th up, and he's sitting there all red faced and stunned, looking like a rape victim. I just muttered out a, "Good job, man," and walked back to the squat rack. When I finished up my set and looked for him again, he was gone. The barbell was still loaded, the weights he had on the floor were still there, but he was nowhere to be seen. He never came back either. I can only assume that he got medical attention in time. If not, I'm pretty sure he's dead.