a wrestling triumph
***note to reader ***
Some of the moves I recall from my memory might not be entirely accurate as to what actually transpired on the mat. If this happens to be the case, I will provide a link (with timestamps) at the bottom of the story for anyone who is curious about the real thing. Furthermore, I shall warn you now that the grammar isn't perfect; the program that I am utilizing (notepad) has no feature capable of spell checking my work. I have done my best to ensure the grammar isn't sloppy, but I cannot promise perfection by any means. With that small notice out of the way, I do hope you enjoy this little tale of mine.
***end of author's note***
"Head in the hole! Head in the hole! Yes! That's it! Grab the wrist! Run it through! Come on Evan..." These were a few of the myriad of comments being directed at Evan Williamson, one of Palatka's wrestlers who was currently squaring off against my fellow teammate Khayree Loftin. From what I could discern from my place only a few feet away, Khayree was struggling to retake control from Williamson, who I would later come to learn won the match by a decision of 8-3. None of that mattered to me at the moment, however. My focus was instead directed on warming up; my coach had recommended that I keep my heart rate accelerated in time for my matches beginning. To acomplish this, I stood a few feet away from where Khayree and Williamson were wrestling;and, thanks to the help of one of my coaches, jogged in place to break a light sweat. "Run it! Come on!", hollered one of Palatca's coaches. "Come On, Khayree!", I called, though it was lacking conviction. While engrossed in keeping my heartrate above an average tempo, I was also dealing with another problem: the usual, unending anxiety I always felt before a match was setting in.
For me, the anxiety manifested itself in the form of subconscious doubting of my abilities. "How experienced will my opponent be? What should I do if I cannot escape from the bottom position...the Peterson, no, don't rely only on the Peterson!" These alongside other uncertainties made themselves known, all the while I continued to march in place, the constant motion providing a small distraction from my warring mind. "Drive Evan...drive! Good job..." Meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!
The buzzer signaling the conclusion of the third round sounded then, snapping me free from my thoughts. Coach Keller, the one who had ensured I remain in one spot during my warmup, told me to prepare for Newman, the head coach, to escort me to the mat for my match. The sounds of clapping came then, followed by many fans showing support to Khayree with kind words.
A tap on my shoulder signaled coach Newman's arival; and, after exchanging a few words with Keller about the matches score, he allowed me to take him by the arm, and we made our way to the mat. The sound of fast, light footsteps greeted me then; my opponent had made his way to the mat and was waiting for me. "Quick to approach the mat...he's confident in his abilities. I mused." "I wonder how well his confidence will play out in the match..."
Once an ankle band signifying my color, I think I was red, was secured in place, my coach whispered to me to "wrestle smart" before taking his place a few feet away. As I am a visually impaired wrestler, contact between me and my opponent must be maintained at all time. Hence, before the match begun, my opponent (Gavin Chamblis) was instructed by his coaches to place his hands atop mine. Assuming my wrestling stance, I waited in preparation for my opponent's hands to meet my own. When they did, I was surprised at the lack of collouses adourning his palms. "Interesting, perhaps he doesn't lift as often as my other advisaries", I thought.
"Shake hands", instructed the referee. Taking hold of Gavin's hand, I gave it the firm, confident pumping that I always gave my opponents to signify my confidence in what was to come. After we had respectfully shaken hands, he once more placed his hands atop mine. Not a moment later, the loud, clear note of the referee's whistle blew, and the match begun.
With every wrestler often comes a unique stile of wrestling. At the time, I did not possess many moves in my arsinal, but what I had was effective for quick, precise finishes. Therefore, I relied heavily on my strength alone, utilizing strategy when necessary to execute any move from my arsinal. When the whistle signaling the beginning of the first period rang out, I immediately went on the offensive taking hold of Gavin's arm with both of my hands, looking to drag him by in order to take hold of his nearest leg. This didn't work, though. Gavin was slippery, and I soon found one of my hands had slipped from his arm. Not to be detered, I switched to another position that came to me easily, that being the collar tie. This involved me taking hold of his right tricep with my left hand while my right took hold of the back of his neck. This alloed me to better control him, as me moving around in my stance while pulling him by the collar forcefully made him move the way I wanted him to.
"Duck Duck! The arm..the arm..grab his arm!", his coaches commanded. I would not let him. After we had unsuccessfully attempted to shoot for each others legs, I again took hold of him in the forementioned collar tie. This time however, I pushed his head further downword, allowing me to wrap the remainder of my arm securely about his neck. "Front headlock...snap down! snap down!", my coach ordered. And that is exactly what I did. Jumping back on my feet, Gavin and I hit the mat with a *thump* as I pulled him to the floor by his neck. From there, I released the hold I had on his tricep so I could circle around to secure two points.
Not much happened after that in the first period except when in the final few seconds, contact was broken. The round came to a sudden halt with the blare of the whistle on the refs behalf. With the help of Newman, I was placed back in the center, where Gavin was waiting for me. "As soon as that whistle blows, chin and wing", he whispered. Right as the whistle blew, he called out "chin and wing!" At the same time, one of Gavin's coaches cut in, which caught me off guard. So caught off guard was I that, instead of executing the move I was asked, I opted for something completely different: the gator roll.
Fortunetly, it still had the desired affect;the roll had taken Gavin to his backside. Unfortunetly, the round ended as soon as I had finished the move, which meant I couldn't transition into a pinning combination.
"Not bad, not bad at all.", I thought to myself as I got to my feet. My coach came over to me then, and asked me which position I wanted to start from when the second round began. I thought to myself that, since I had easily gained control over Gavin in the neutral position, why not take a risk and try to work something from on top? "Top!", I declared. With that, we made our way back to the center. "Try and sucking him back off the backpack we practiced", he said to me. With the help of the ref, I assumed the top position, encircling my right arm across Gavin's chest while my left hand was placed on his left bicep. I noted to myself that Gavin's heartrate was rapidly grater than mine; I could tell so, even when it was my forearm against his chest. "Tired already"?
Eeeeeep! The second round was underway. At once, I saught to set up the backpack hold Newman advised me to do; I hooked both of my arms beneath Gavin's, pulling him into my chest to keep him from moving about. Meanwhile, coaches and spectators continued their never-ending onslaught of commentary. "up, Gavin, up...move..move..turn into him...". "Come on Brady!" Gavin tried this and that to break the hold I now had on him, but it was in vane. Having ensure he wasn't going to break to his feet, I let free one of his arms that I had locked with my own, now winding it tightly about his neck. At the same time, I pulled Gavin backwards, pulling him inexorably down to his back.
There was a sudden roar from the crowd as they could all see what was coming. Gavin's shoulderblades were nearly against the mat: a pin was sure to follow. "Squeeeeeeeze! Squeeeeeeeze! Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeze!", Newman roared. Alas, Gavin found a way to roll over to his stomach, basing slowly upwords, trying to regain his footing.
At the orders of Coach Keller to "let go", I let loose the arm I had around Gavin's neck, now looping it underneath his nearest leg. Meanwhile, the other arm took its place around his neck, looking to meet the hand that was not too far away. Locking my hands together, I rolled forward, Gavin now falling yet again to his backside as the roll-through cradle was executed.
We impacted the mat again, all of my weight now pressing into him.. He kicked, he rolled, and he even tried bucking his hips upwords in an effort to bridge up. All of these efforts were fruitless, though. Jamming my chin deep into his shoulderblades, I focused all of my energy on tightening the cradle I had created, pushing his backblades completely into the mat as I did so.
*Thump*! There was a moment of silence after the ref gave the signal for a pin. Then the room exploded with the sounds of spectators screaming their triumph at what had happened. Undescribable satisfaction surged through me then; few things were more satisfying than pulling off a victory in front of everyone who supported me. Once I had relinquished my hold upon Gavin, both of us got back to our feet, where we then shook hands. Coach Newman approached me; and, having confirmed with the ref what had just happened, raised my hand in the signature victory signal of a triumphant wrestler for the crowd to see. Jubilant cheers were the response.
***end of tale***
That was one of twenty matches I won as a senior. Gavin was a slippery opponent, but his strength and technique just wasn't there. Or maybe it was. In any case, it was still an incredibly satisfying victory. I do hope you've enjoyed this read.
Khayree Loftin VS. evan Williamson: 20 mins
Brady Simmer VS Gavin Chamblis: 29 mins