It is interesting, though, how non-general strength is.
There is indeed a widely (unwittingly) held idea that “strength” is a one-dimensional thing: consider, say, superhero comics where the Hulk is stronger than anybody else, which means he’s stronger at everything. You never read a comic where the Hulk is stronger at lifting things but Thor is stronger at throwing; that would feel really weird to most people. If the Marvel universe had a comic about strength sports, the Hulk would be the best at every sport.
But this isn’t at all how strength works in the real world: there is a pretty large component of specificity. Very, very few athletes are competitive at high levels in even two strength sports, never mind all of them. Giant male powerlifters frequently have a snatch weaker than tiny female weightlifters, despite having dramatically more lean body mass, and naturally higher testosterone, and (usually) the benefit of performance-enhancing drugs. And if you put a powerlifter in the Highland Games—a contest of strength via various throwing events—well, they’d be hopeless!
To a strength athlete, this is obvious. Of course powerlifters have a lousy snatch! Most powerlifters don’t even train the snatch! Strength isn’t just about raw muscle mass; there is a very large component of skill, technique, and even neural adaptation to specific movement patterns.
But under the folk one-dimensional model of strength, this is a strange and surprising fact.
Some subcomponents aren’t skills—or at least, it seems odd to label e.g. “unusually long arms” as a skill—but this is a nitpick.