Chapter 533: Striking Shot Put

Chapter 533: The Shot Put’s Advance

The venue for the IAAF Diamond League Shanghai leg was the 80,000-seat stadium, and the sixteen events for this Shanghai leg were the men’s 100m, 200m, 400m, 5000m, 110m hurdles, high jump, javelin, shot put, and the women’s 100m, 400m, 1500m, 3000m steeplechase, pole vault, shot put, and javelin.

According to the competition requirements, a single leg’s events had to be completed within one day; based on past schedules, it usually took two to three hours, and this year it started at 7 PM.

From five o’clock, spectators began filing in.

Tickets for this Shanghai leg hadn’t sold well initially, with a decline compared to last year, but then suddenly they were all snapped up in an instant. The reason was simple: the official announcement that Meng Fan would be among the participants, leading to a ticket frenzy.

Around six, the athletes entered for warm-ups and were stunned—there were cheering props on the track and field! How could that be?

They’d seen this kind of large-scale support at concerts and on football fields, but on a track, while not unheard of, it was extremely rare.

Oh, right, it seemed this scene had become common at weightlifting, wrestling, and judo events in the past couple of years. With that thought, everyone’s mood improved, since those athletes had already endured such a shock before them.

For Meng Fan, a newcomer suddenly breaking into track and field, the vast majority welcomed him. His performances in weightlifting, wrestling, and judo were destined for the history books; even though he hadn’t retired, calling him a legendary athlete was no stretch. Most athletes respected him, regardless of whether some disliked his flamboyant style.

Moreover, those who weren’t javelin or shot put athletes had no conflict of interest, so there was no hatred or rejection. For javelin and shot put athletes, there was nothing to say—Meng Fan’s results at the Asian Athletics Grand Prix left them unable to feel jealous; they knew too well what his achievements meant. This year’s best results weren’t because others hadn’t competed or performed poorly, but because they truly couldn’t match him!

Of course, it wasn’t absolute. A small faction resented Meng Fan’s presence on the track, like the most united South Korean athletes, who were forever united against him regardless of the event, level, or occasion.

As for the American athletes Meng Fan had just brushed past, for various reasons, they were perhaps even more enthusiastic toward him than athletes from other countries. They often joked about Meng Fan’s KO of the monster in the UFC, finding it amusing. Of course, there were those who disliked him, but many admired and liked him. In their eyes, Meng Fan was bold and arrogant, yet no one could take him down—they loved that personality, finding it familiar and endearing.

“Meng! Welcome to the shot put family!”

“Oh my god, I finally meet you! I love your matches so much—I’ve watched every single one!”

“So excited, so happy! Can I have a hug, Meng?”

During the call room, Meng Fan encountered a group of very enthusiastic athletes, and to his surprise, they were all shot putters—his upcoming competitors.

Was the atmosphere a bit too friendly?

Did big, burly men really spark passion more easily?

Meng Fan’s shot put journey had been a solitary endeavor; he’d had little interaction with the international shot put world. At the Asian Grand Prix, he’d only competed once with minimal exchange, let alone beyond Asia.

Of course, he’d heard some things about world shot put—mostly from Gong Huang—the most famous being the “three-horse chariot” of shot put: the three greats, America’s Ryan Crouser and Joe Kovacs, and New Zealand’s Tom Walsh.

These three were the leaders of the shot put event, with world championship titles essentially rotating among them. Their competition was fierce but friendly, and they often trained together in a very healthy rivalry. If a newcomer emerged or someone posted a breakthrough result, they’d pull them in for training or discussion.

This atmosphere existed mainly because a mountain loomed over them: their dream was to progress together and topple that mountain before their competitive peaks faded.

That mountain was none other than the men’s shot put world record, which had stood for thirty-one years—older than all of them.

Over the years, these leaders had collected nearly every honor and title; now, they aimed to break the record in their generation.

But to be fair, that record was incredibly tough to break.

Generally, on the international stage, throwing over 21 meters could earn a place or a medal; exceeding 22 meters could win a medal or even gold at top-tier events.

For the current three-horse chariot, throws over 22.5 meters were rare. The latest Olympic record was Ryan Crouser’s 22.61 meters in 2020, while the best result in the past decade was Joe Kovacs’s 22.65 meters shortly after Meng Fan took up shot put—soon overtaken by Meng Fan’s 22.66 meters. Interestingly, Tom Walsh recently threw 22.67 meters, but the event’s level wasn’t high enough for the IAAF to recognize it.

These numbers represented the pinnacle of current shot put, while the world record stood at 23.12 meters, set in the 1990s.

For the three-horse chariot, someone needed to break the 23-meter barrier first to have a chance at that record. It seemed a distant goal, but fortunately, all three were young and hadn’t yet reached their limits, with potential to climb.

Of course, after the 2016 and 2020 Olympics, with the timeline stretched, a sense of despair had crept in. They’d once believed someone would hit 23 meters by 2020, but they hadn’t even touched the threshold.

So, when Meng Fan suddenly emerged with a 22.66-meter throw, they were thrilled—it was the stimulus they needed, another rival to chase.

Chariot 3+1!

After friendly chatter during the call room, the shot putters entered the stadium together.

By then, the competition was already underway; the men’s 400m, high jump, and women’s pole vault had finished.

Meng Fan and the others entered, drawing thunderous applause and wild screams from the stands—mostly aimed at him. At the same time, they attracted many sports professionals, not just to watch Meng Fan, but because today’s shot put lineup was truly dazzling.

In terms of world rankings alone, regardless of event influence, even without Meng Fan, the shot put athletes at this event were the heaviest hitters. Sixteen of the top twenty shot putters were present—the highest attendance rate of any event. For comparison, the men’s 100m had nine of the top twenty, with only one of the top three.

Outsiders watched Meng Fan; insiders watched the overall lineup. Media reporters had already run headlines like:

“The Shot Put’s Advance—The First Full Assault on the 31-Year-Old World Record”

This was indeed the most luxurious shot put lineup in a decade, fully armed, with four athletes over 22.5 meters!

(Chapter End)