The Weight of Progress: Strongman’s Path Forward?

My name is Anthony Fuhrman, and for those who don’t know me, I am a two-time World’s Strongest Man (105kg) champion. My career in strongman has been a journey filled with incredible highs and devastating lows. I retired from the sport as an athlete at the age of 34, following a total knee replacement. During my competitive years, I proudly represented the sport on some of its biggest stages. I competed in the Men’s Open Pro at Arnold South Africa, Strongman Champion’s League (SCL) Finland, and was invited to Arnold Brazil before COVID halted the event. I’m also a two-time silver medalist at America’s Strongest Man and appeared on the inaugural episode of NBC's Titan Games.

But my story with strongman isn’t just about my individual achievements. It’s also about trying to change the sport for the better. With Clash on the Coast, we broke the mold, offering high athlete payouts at a time when it was almost unheard of. We covered two nights of athlete hotel stays for many of our shows and brought the sport to primetime television with a live 105kg Clash World Championship on ESPN. It was groundbreaking.

Clash ultimately failed, and I take no small part in that. However, that’s a story for another time. Suffice it to say, there was—and still is—a lot to heal from during that era. The vision and desire to help athletes was always there, but the weight of the obstacles we faced left me drained in ways I couldn’t fully process at the time. I’ll still need more time to fully unpack and share that ordeal.

My departure from strongman wasn’t just about the sport itself. In December 2022, I faced a series of devastating losses that culminated in one of the hardest months of my life. I lost a dear friend to abuse inflicted by a prominent coach within the community, my dog of 15 years passed away, and I underwent a grueling recovery from knee replacement surgery—all within a 30-day span. These events, combined with the backstage politics of the sport and the toxic rumors that spread about me, brought me to my lowest point. I had to make a choice: prioritize my healing or continue on a path that might not leave me here today. I chose life–I chose to heal. I do not tell you this to garner sympathy, but as a matter-of-fact explanation for my sudden departure from the sport, and subsequent wrestling with the nature of my experience within the sport.  

Over the past two years, I have been on a journey to heal my mind, body, and spirit. I’ve worked through my combat PTSD with therapy, moved back home to find the support of my family, and returned to academics to finish my Master’s in Athletic Training. With my Master’s in Sports Administration from the University of Louisville already under my belt, I’ve focused on growth, not just for myself but for the people I hope to serve in the future. I’m actively healing and finally in a place where I can look forward with hope and purpose.

For those who’ve supported me and wondered where I’ve been, I apologize for stepping back without explanation. I needed time to heal and rebuild. But I haven’t forgotten you, and I haven’t forgotten the sport that gave me so much.

Now that we’re caught up, let’s talk about the future of strongman and why I’m writing this. What can we do to grow the sport, support the athletes, and create a future where strongman thrives at every level? It’s time to have that conversation.

Before I go any further, I want to make one thing clear: I’m speaking specifically about the professional level of strongman. This conversation is not about the amateur model—the grassroots shows, the parking lot competitions, and the small-town events that are the beating heart of this sport. Those events are integral to the culture, history, and grit of strongman. They represent everything that makes this sport special, and they should be cherished and preserved.

What I’m addressing here is how we take strongman to the next level professionally. How do we create a sustainable structure that supports the athletes who dedicate their lives to the sport while also growing its reach and influence? Amateur shows are the foundation, but without a strong and viable professional tier, the sport as a whole will struggle to grow.

Strongman has always been a sport of passion, grit, and perseverance. It’s a sport where athletes push themselves beyond their physical and mental limits, often for little more than personal pride and the thrill of competition. But let’s be honest: passion alone cannot sustain a sport. For strongman to grow—not just survive, but thrive—we need to rethink the foundation on which the sport is built.

When I was competing, one of the biggest issues I saw was the financial strain on athletes. Competing at a high level isn’t cheap. Between travel, accommodations, food, recovery, and the equipment required to train, athletes often end up spending far more than they ever earn in prize money. And that’s if there’s even prize money to be earned. For a sport where the athletes are the main attraction, the lack of financial support is staggering.

This raises the big question: Can we create a system where athletes can make a living—or at least cover their expenses—through strongman? To me, this is the key to the sport’s growth. It’s not just about supporting the athletes who are already here. It’s about creating an environment that attracts top-level talent from other disciplines. Imagine the potential if the best lifters, sprinters, or even CrossFit athletes saw strongman as a viable career option. But right now, they don’t, because there’s no sustainable path for most athletes.

The solution, as I see it, lies in collaboration. Athletes need to support each other—not tear each other down. Organizations need to do more than just profit from the athletes; they need to reinvest in them. As for fans and communities? They need to rally behind real change.

One of the most interesting models we could look to for inspiration is the old WWF (now WWE) territory days. Back then, regional wrestling organizations coexisted in a loosely connected ecosystem. They weren’t all trying to crush each other; instead, they focused on building their own territories while occasionally working together to elevate the stars of the sport as a whole. Wrestlers could move between territories, building their careers and fan bases while maintaining the integrity of each promotion.

Imagine if strongman adopted a similar model. What if regional organizations worked together instead of competing against each other? What if there was a shared system to develop athletes, promote events, and showcase talent on larger platforms? Back in those wrestling days, the territories had a shared vision: grow the sport by making stars out of their athletes. Strongman could benefit from this approach. Instead of fractured organizations operating in silos, we could build a cohesive network that allows athletes to thrive while growing the sport’s reach.

This isn’t just about competition structures or marketing. It’s about recognizing that the strength of the sport lies in the athletes and the stories they tell. People connect with stories. They’re inspired by athletes overcoming the odds, pushing boundaries, and achieving the impossible. Wrestling thrived because it made its stars larger than life. Strongman can do the same—if we focus on the athletes and give them the platforms they deserve.

To be clear, this isn’t about recreating the drama of professional wrestling. It’s about taking the best elements of that system—the collaboration, the focus on talent, and the shared vision—and applying them to strongman. The sport needs unity, not infighting. It needs organizations to work together to create something bigger than themselves.

I’m writing this not as someone with all the answers, but as someone who deeply cares about the future of this sport. Strongman gave me so much. It taught me resilience, discipline, and the power of community. But strongman also showed me its flaws—the cracks in the foundation that are holding it back.

If we truly want strongman to grow—if we want it to thrive as a professional sport—we have to start by addressing the foundational issues regarding top tier athletes and their treatment. Collaboration, respect, and shared vision aren’t just lofty ideals; they’re necessities for creating a sustainable future. The sport will only succeed when the athletes, promoters, organizations, and fans come together with a unified purpose: to build something that benefits everyone involved.

But this isn’t something I can solve alone, nor should I. The future of strongman depends on all of us having an open, fear-free discourse about how to help the sport grow. We need to ask the hard questions and invite honest, constructive feedback.

What do you think? How can we create a system that works for everyone? What ideas do you have to make strongman a sport that thrives at every level? Until we start discussing these things openly, progress will be slow. Let’s share ideas, challenge assumptions, and work together to build a sport that reflects the strength and passion of its athletes and fans.

The first step is starting the conversation. Now, it’s your turn—what’s your vision for the future of strongman?