The Match - Version 2

Why the hell did I let Sean talk me into joining the wrestling team?

It’s fourth period History class and all I can do is fidget in my chair while trying to concentrate on Mr. Volt’s Lecture. My mind is definitely not on early American History. All I’m thinking about is his how much my stomach is growling.

It’s been two weeks since I joined and that was only a week before the first tournament. Cutting weight really sucks especially when you only have a week to drop ten pounds. I’m a football player by trade, a lineman actually so losing weight has never been a priority. Nobody wants a skinny guard blocking for them.

I made weight but not by much. It wasn’t fun especially the eight hundred calorie a day diet. I’m sure that’s part of the reason I can’t concentrate.

That first tournament went fairly well considering I only had a week’s worth of instruction. Not much time to really learn anything, just the basics. The first match was a blur. I think I was more concerned with just getting it over then actually winning. I was nervous and the kid I was wrestling knew what he was doing. One rookie mistake and it was all over. The funny part is that I actually had a smile on my face as I was getting pinned.

I won my second match. Not bad for a beginner except the kid I was wrestling was even more clueless than I was and I only just eked out the win by a few points. I wrestled one more time but I had nothing left. The rapid weight loss and the two previous matches were more than enough to banish any hopes of taking home a consolation medal. Overall, I wasn’t upset by my performance and the coach seemed pleased.

The bell rings, signaling the end of the period, rousing me from my day dreaming. I grab my books and head for the hallway. I need to grab something from my locker.

I see Sean coming down the hallway, a big grin on his face. He’s one of my best friends but right now I’d like to knock the smile off of his face. He kept pestering me until I agreed to join the team. They needed someone to wrestle at heavyweight. The kid who wrestled at that weight moved away unexpectedly right before the season. I think his dad got a job opportunity out west of something. Wrestling wasn’t part of my plans, but Sean’s constant badgering finally won out.

“You ready?” Sean says, an annoying smirk on his face.

“For class?” I reply.

“No, dickhead, the match,” Sean says as he gives me a playful punch in the arm. I’d love to return the favor but it’s not worth the effort.

“I guess,” I say halfheartedly.

“Stop worrying so much,” Sean says. “You’ll be fine.”

“It’s just..,”

“Forget about Tuesday,” Sean says trying to be reassuring, “it happens to all of us.”

“Easy for you to say. It didn’t happen to you.”

Tuesday was our first regular meet against our school’s biggest rival, Morrisville. It was back and forth with both teams winning matches. They usually kill us so the fact we were hanging in there was giving everyone hope we might actually win one. The team score was all tied going into the last match, the heavyweight match, my match. I needed to win for the team to win.

I was facing one of the top-ranked heavyweights in the county and was simply outclassed. I was absolutely terrible but what really bothers me is I completely froze under the pressure. It was obvious at least to me. I might as well have just laid down on the mat and spared everyone the ninety seconds of hope that I’d do something, anything to try to win the match. My failure had cost the team a victory and everyone seemed to know it.

“Let’s get going,” I say not wanting to continue the discussion. “You know how Mrs. Norris is about being late.”

“One sec,” Sean replies as he stops at a water fountain to get a drink.

“Hey, not to much,” I scold, “you have to make weight too!”

“OK Mom,” he kids.

His tone is mocking and cavalier. I really want to punch him now.

Mrs. Norris’ English class goes by quickly. Like my previous class, I barely hear a word the teacher is saying. She’s discussing Shakespeare but for all I knew it could be Dr. Seuss. The bell rings and Sean exits Mrs. Norris’ class a couple steps behind me..

“Heading to the café?” Sean asked.

“Nah, I’m not really in the mood to eat. I think I’ll just head to the library and get some homework out the way.”

“I’m gonna go and grab some lunch,” he says.

“Don’t eat too much,” I remind him. “You barely made weight last time and coach’ll kill ya if you don’t make it!”

“You worry too much,” he chides. “Go and relax. I’ll see ya later bro!”

“See ya.”

The end of the school day can’t come soon enough. I can’t concentrate in any of my classes and the fact that I’ve only eaten an apple the entire day doesn’t make things any better. Maybe I should just go to the nurse, say I’m sick and get sent home. It’s not far from the truth. The only thing that’s stopped me from puking is the fact I haven’t eaten. My feelings of guilt overshadow the dread I’m feeling so I nix that idea. I made a commitment to the team and I’m going to live up to it even if it means looking like a jackass in front of the entire school. Call me old fashioned but one thing my parent’s taught me is to honor a commitment.

The team boards the bus to take us across town to Yorkville High for the meet. Being from the same town, our two schools enjoy a natural rivalry which Yorkville typically gets the better of. This is one sport that our school normally excels at so it’s expected that we win today. Filing out of the bus, we head to the visitors locker to get weighed in. Maybe I’ll miss weight and won’t be able to wrestle. Someone else can worry about anchoring the team. No chance of that happening. I’ve been five pounds under the limit for days and one apple isn’t going to tip the scales.

“Philips,” calls the official.

Sean walks up to the scale wearing only a pair of boxer shorts and steps on.

“180,” the official announces meaning that Sean is three pounds over the weight limit.

The coach looks pissed and I give Sean a “told you so” look. He spends the next thirty minutes alternating between jogging around the locker room in a plastic suit and the toilet in vain attempt to cut weight. He gets down to 178 but can’t qualify to wrestle at that weight.

With Sean out of the line up, Coach Penbrook is going to need to make some adjustments. A small glimmer of hope sparks in my mind. Maybe the coach’ll have Sean wrestle at heavyweight. He’s been wrestling for a few years and has more experience. My one measure of hope fades fast as the coach bumps up Angelo to wrestle at Sean’s spot. Angelo wrestles at 165 but he can easily make the jump to 177. Carlo, who wrestles at 155 takes Angelo’s place. As much as I hate to admit it, it makes perfect sense.

Coach Penbrook submits the line up card with the changes. Jimmy, a junior varsity wrestler take’s Carlo’s place at 155. Carlo’s opponent is the best wrestler on the Yorkville team and while Carlo can probably beat him, the match would be tough. Coach knows that Carlo can beat the wrestler at 165 and I’m fairly certain that Angelo can handle his opponent at 177. He essentially sacrifices the 155 pound match and poor Jimmy for better match ups later on. It’s actually not a bad strategy.

We file out to the gym for the pre-match warm-up. I got through the routine but I’m like a robot. My mind is focused on everything except wrestling. Anything to keep my mind off of the feeling of impending doom that keeps gnawing at my gut.

The matches are wrestled in weight order with the lowest weight being first and the highest weight last. I might was well sit back and try to relax as it’s going to be at least an hour before it’s my turn.

I’m not paying any attention and I think the coach sees it. He doesn’t look happy so I’d better at least try to act interested. We win the first two matches easily. Joey and Bobby, our little guys, each score a pin on their opponent giving us an early 12-0 lead.

So far the match is going our way so I breathe a little easier and even manage a smile. With a little luck, by the time I wrestle the meet will already be won and other than my own personal won-loss record, the match won’t have any significance.

My hopes are completely dashed as the momentum of the meet changes over the next several matches with Yorkville taking most of the wins. Our entire team is in shock. What looked to be an easy win is now looking like an almost sure loss. Leading into the 155 pound match, Yorkville actually leads by eleven points.

Jimmy, the short and pudgy tenth grader who normally wrestles junior varsity marches steps out onto the mat looking like a poor little lamb being led to the slaughter. In essence, that is what he is. Coach planned for this and accounted for the almost assured loss but now it looks like the plan is backfiring. We can’t afford another loss and I can’t help but feel ashamed that I’m actually rooting for Jimmy to lose.

Poor, little Jimmy puts up a valiant struggle but the boy from Yorkville is bigger, stronger and older. The match is the shortest of the night with Jimmy being pinned easily.

The score i now 23-40, an almost insurmountable lead. With only three matches left and a seventeen point deficit, our only chance to win would be to get three pins in a row.

I look up and notice my parents are in the stands. To make matters worse my girlfriend is with them. Just what I need, more pressure.

I see Carlo standing by Coach Penbrook waiting for his name to be called. The coach doesn’t say much. Carlo, also a junior like Angelo and me has been wrestling since the eighth grade and I can see that he knows what needs to be done. He steps onto the mat with confidence and waits eagerly for the match to start. His face is a mask of intensity. I don’t even want to watch the match. A cheer from our bench rouses me fro my stupor. In a little over thirty seconds, Carlo has given our team some hope.

A knot begins to work its way into my stomach as I realize that the impossible might be happening. If Angelo can pin his opponent, it would once again come down to the last match, my match to determine the outcome of the meet.

Angelo seems relaxed as he makes his way onto the mat. His opponent is a tall and lanky kid and outweighs him by twelve pounds but Angelo is an athlete. He may be giving up height and weight but Angelo makes up for it with strength and determination.

My match is next so I use that as an excuse to go to the locker room. For some reason you always have to pee right before your match, probably something to do with the nerves. I don’t have to pee but I think I’m going to throw up. I try to splash some water on my face and notice I’m starting to shake. For all I know, Angelo could be losing but my stomach thinks otherwise and it’s doing its best to make sure I suffer. I take a few deep breaths and try to compose myself. With no concept of how much time I’ve been here, I hustle back out to the gym.

I return just in time to see the third period begin. Angelo is up by a bunch of points but nothing short of a pin will make a difference. It looks like Angelo’s opponent is tiring. I can sense what’s coming next. Angelo’s favorite move is the Fireman’s carry, a pretty effective takedown if done right. Angelo must have practiced the move on me and Sean five hundred times and working with the two “fat boys” as he liked to call us was about to pay dividends. The move was executed perfectly, trapping his opponent to end the match in a pin.

The entire team is on their feet going wild except for me. I’m still sitting with a look of horror on my face as the realization comes to me that my worst fear has just come to fruition. Angelo has just brought us back from the brink and its my responsibility once again to deliver a win. Not only do I have to win but I have to pin my opponent, something I’ve failed to do in my four previous matches.

“Baker,” I hear Coach Penbrook call as Angelo is having his arm raised in the center of the match. “You ready?”

“Yeah coach,” I reply, lacking any confidence. I don’t even want to look at the coach as I’m afraid I might puke all over him.

“You know you need to pin him, right?” he says. “I’m not expecting a miracle, just do your best.”

Thanks for the “motivational” speech, Coach. That did wonders to lift my spirits. My mind is reeling and I barely heard the announcer call my name. I can faintly hear Sean shouting out encouragement. Right now, I’d love nothing more that to charge into the stands and drag him into the ring, blaming him for everything that is happening but I’ll wait until practice to make him suffer.

As I walk onto the mat, I see my parents and Lisa. They never come to watch me compete in any sports. Of all nights, why did they have to pick this match. My mother looks worried like I’m going to get hurt. Lisa is smiling trying to lift my spirits. My dad just has an annoyed look on his face like I’m going to embarrass him. Thanks for being so supportive, dad.

The noise from the crowd begins to fade away as I focus his mind on the match. Everyone else be damned. I’m the one out here not them so it’s just going to be me and my opponent.

The boy’s name is Rocco. I’ve heard of him but not due to his wrestling prowess. Rocco was the goalie on the Yorkville lacrosse team that won the state championship the previous year. The boy is supposed to be quick with lighting fast reflexes. Aside from that, he doesn’t appear overly imposing. I’ve got to outweigh him by a good ten pounds.

The two of us stand ready in the center of the mat as the referee signals for the match to begin. I feel tentative as usual as we circle the ring. Rocco looks confident. I probably have the look of someone just trying to survive.

We lock up in the center of the mat, jockeying for position. Pushing and pulling, we both try to gain the advantage and move in for a takedown. I push Rocco away and began to stalk him. I’m still tentative. I don’t want to make a mistake.

Rocco shoots in for a takedown. He’s fast and trying to surprise me but I think he underestimates my speed. His overconfidence might be a weakness. I sprawl out forcing my weight down on his back and spin behind him for a takedown then break him down onto his stomach. I immediately go for the pin. I hook my arm under his arm and behind his neck attempting to force him onto his back. I’m stronger but Rocco uses his agility and flexibility to fight the attempt.

My confidence is growing as I gain ground. My opponent is half onto his back as the referee waves his arm along the mat sideways indicating a pin attempt. I can feel his strength giving out but as he starts to roll and settle on his back, the whistle blows signaling the end of the period. Damn! So close to winning.

The referee awards me three points for the near pin bringing the score to 5-0 in my favor. I’m breathing heavy having exerted a lot of energy attempting to pin the Yorkville wrestler but my confidence is soaring. Rocco looks just as tired and there’s something else there. Gone is his look of confidence replaced by fear. Rocco is now the one trying not to lose. I can feel the competitor in me that has been locked away by my own self doubt rise from the ashes to be reborn like the Phoenix.

The second period begins and I choose the neutral position meaning both wrestlers start on their feet. I’m now the aggressor and shoot in for a takedown. He’s tiring but still holds the edge in speed. Rocco is able to avoid the takedown and spin behind me.


He tries to break his me down to score a takedown but I lock my arms and legs blocking him. The hours of weight lifting have paid off. Rocco is definitely fading and his grip is loosening. I sense him weaken, break the grip and spin to face my opponent. Both of us are on our knees struggling to gain the upper hand. We lock eyes and I see nothing but defeat staring back at me. Now is the time!

While not the most technically proficient wrestler given my limited experience, I’m a pretty good football player and know how to tackle. Exploding forward on my knees, I drive my shoulder into his mid-section, executing a textbook tackle and sending Rocco flying onto his back. I scramble forward placing all of my weight on his chest.

We fight for what seems like eternity as I press with all of my might. Time slows to a crawl and all goes silent as I feel Rocco struggling with every ounce of his remaining strength. Out of the corner of my eye I see the referee on the mat, his arm raised. With one last push, Rocco stops struggling. The only sound I hear is the pounding of the mat as the referee signals a pin.

Time returns to normal and sound explodes all around me as my teammates are going wild with celebration. Students and parents from Lakeview cheer loudly in the stands. I can’t hold my emotions in as I rock back on my knees, pumping both arms in the air and let out a yell. It’s a somewhat disrespectful gesture but right now I don’t care.

I quickly remember my place and get up on my feet. Rocco is standing next to the referee with a forlorn look on his face. I understood what he’s feeling and I want to put my hand on his shoulder as a gesture to say “I know what you’re feeling” but this is my time now and all I can feel is relief mixed with triumphant joy. All the fear of the past day has vanished replaced by a new confidence.

“Winner, Baker,” the referee shouts as my arm is raised in victory. I can see my parents in the stands. My mother and Lisa are hugging each other while jumping up and down. My dad has a look of pride on his face and I need to look away quickly as I can feel tears coming.

Rocco and I shake hands and part. I turn just in time to see the entire team rushing towards me. They bury me in an avalanche of bodies as they shout “you did it” and “we won.” The celebration lasts for what seems like hours. I pick myself up off the mat not wanting the feeling to end. Coach Penbrook is standing on the side of the mat with a smile on his face.

“Great work, Matt”, Coach Penbrook says. “I’m proud of you!”

“Thanks coach,” is all I can say as I walk back towards the locker room.

“One other thing,” the Coach says, a wry look in his eye.

“Yeah, Coach?” I reply.

“Don’t ever let me see you celebrate like that again,” he says with a sarcastic grim on his face.

“Sure thing,” I say as I pump an arm in the air and give one final shout before disappearing into the locker room.


The End