Post by dconifer on Oct 4, 2004 22:48:53 GMT -5
home.infionline.net/~cpharm/Throwback
pp. 125
Now, I was up. I had deliberately avoided thinking about my opponent, Dave Charter. I did know that he was a senior, and had won most of his matches this year. He was very big for the weight class. When I went for the handshake during introductions I noted that he was several inches taller than me. Like so many of my opponents of late, it seemed that he had dropped a lot of weight to make 171.
We circled each other warily as the match started, each knowing that the outcome was important to our own team. I shot first, with bad results. I grabbed a leg, but he sprawled, kicking his legs backwards and landing most of his weight on my back. With my face exposed, he slammed me with a vicious cross-face. I thought it was flagrant, but the referee didn’t, so I continued to struggle. I was still holding onto his leg, but he was still cross facing hard and was slowly leveraging his body behind me. My nose hurt badly from the blow I’d received but I tried to block that out. After 20 more seconds, I couldn’t hold him back any longer. He whipped behind me and earned 2 points for a takedown.
At that point I became aware that my nose, which had born the brunt of the cross face, had begun dripping blood. I looked up at the referee to show him, and he immediately called for injury time. I had only wrestled a minute, but I was already out of breath as I walked back towards the bench.
The trainer checked to make sure my nose wasn’t broken, and tried to stop the bleeding. Then, she pushed some cotton balls up my nostrils to try to contain any more blood that flowed. This, I knew from experience, would contribute to my fatigue, because it would make breathing more difficult. I tried to talk with Coach Miles as best I could, but it was difficult with the trainer checking my nose, and my heavy breathing. As all this was going on, I watched someone I didn’t recognize clean my blood off the mat with a towel and a spray bottle. I’d bled more than I had realized.
“I don’t think I can go 6 minutes with this guy,” I gasped. “I’m already beat.”<br>
“You’re just not getting much air, is all,” he said. It was more than that, though. I was worn out even before the cotton balls were shoved up my nose. I didn’t say anything more about it though. “We need something here, Ben, just do your best. You’re better than he is,” he said firmly. I wasn’t so sure.
“He’s so d**n big. I’ll have try to end it early, that’s the only way,” I said without bravado, still breathing hard.
I knew exactly what I wanted to do. Having been taken down, I was on bottom, of course. I managed to stand up, and Charter stood with me, locking his hands around my waist. Perfect, I thought. I took four steps forward, increasing in speed, making him think that I was trying to break free or simply heading out of bounds for a fresh start. Then, I grabbed his right wrist with my left hand, and pivoted hard to my right. As I swung around I stuck my right arm between his legs, while retaining my hold on his other arm. Simultaneously I sat towards the mat. He had no choice but to follow my motion, first forward and then face-first toward the mat, because he hadn’t had a chance to let go.
I had executed a perfect standing switch, and Charter hadn’t seen it coming. How could he? In my day switches more common, but of course the standing switch less so. Just 5 years later, not many high school wrestlers were using the move. I hadn’t seen a standing switch in years. I hadn’t even tried one in practice since coming to Chapel Forge, let alone in a match. I’m sure my own teammates were as surprised as anybody else to see it.
The beauty of a standing switch was the whipping action that sent the other wrestler face first into the mat at lightning speed. As that was happening, he would instinctively be concerned with self-preservation rather than continuing his attack on me. If I had caused his body to slam to the mat as it did under almost any other circumstances I would be penalized for it. In this case, however, there was no penalty warranted. He chose to hold on, and so “followed me to the mat,” as it is stated in the rulebook.
The jolt usually provided a brief window for the switcher to attack an opponent who has dropped his guard. Not only that, the force with which he strikes the mat momentarily stuns the wrestler, making him more vulnerable. That’s just what happened that night. Charter slammed into the mat and came to rest on his hands and knees. I went in for the kill as he paused to regain his senses, throwing in one of my favorite pinning combinations, a nearside cradle. I felt little resistance until he was on his back, and by then it was too late. The referee had called the pin. Two consecutive first period pins had enabled us to take the lead again, by 24 – 20. The gym got really loud after the pin was called.
After I came off the mat desperate for air, I frantically pulled the cotton from my nose and threw it to the floor. More blood began to dribble out, and the trainer ordered me to lie down on the mats behind the bench. As I lay there I noticed that one side of the gym had grown very quiet. My nose, and one of my cheeks now, was throbbing and pulsing with pain.
We never relinquished our lead. In fact, we won two of the final three matches after mine, by decision. In one of the most shocking upsets of the season so far, Chapel Forge Township beat Peach Valley convincingly, by a score of 30 to 23. PV lost a few more matches that year. It turned out to be true that this was their weakest team in years. We didn’t know that at the time, though, and so that didn’t take away any of the luster from our win.
There was a lot of whooping and hollering in the locker room, but not by me. I couldn’t believe my nose wasn’t broken, and even went back to the trainer. She assured me that it wasn’t broken, but warned me that it would be quite sore for a week or so. “You’ll probably have a black eye in the morning, if not two,” she added. She handed me a fresh baggy of ice, which I gently applied when I had a spare hand while showering and dressing. As I was leaving, Robert Mendez reminded me about the party that most team members would be at later. “You’re coming, right?” he asked.
“I’ll see how this feels,” I said, lifting the bag of ice off of my nose, but if I’m alright I’ll be there.”<br>
“Are you kidding?” he said. “I wish I had a face like that tonight, the girls are going to eat you up! Make sure you bring the bag of ice,” he laughed.
I left the locker room in high spirits. My entire face hurt, not just because of the cross-face but also because some of my mat burns had been rubbed raw, but none of that matter at the moment because we had won a big match. I would go home, clean up, and actually drop by that party.
When I turned the corner in the gym lobby, I was startled. Judy was there, by herself, leaning against the wall. “Hi Ben, you were so great tonight!” she gushed. “Is your nose still bleeding?” When I got close enough, she saw my nose, and the ice bag that was in my hand. My nose was already turning a bluish color, and was a bit swollen. I think she was taken aback. “Are you okay?” she asked, with what sounded like genuine concern. I assured her that I was.
It felt unbelievably good to know that she had come to the match after all. The fact that she was outside the locker room meant that she’d come mostly to see me. That felt even better. “I’m so glad you came,” I said. “I looked for you but it was hard to see, there were so many people.”<br>
“We came late, and we ended up sitting in a bunch of fans from the other team. We had to keep kind of quiet,” she laughed. “Are you sure you’re OK?” she asked again, the concern returning to her voice.
“Yeah, I’m alright,” I said. “Who did you come here with?” I asked, looking around. There didn’t seem to be anybody with her.
“My friends Karen and Paula,” she explained. “They already left. I was kind of hoping you could give me a ride.”<br>
“Of course, I’d love to,” I said with all honesty. I was touched that she had come, and even more so because she had waited for me afterwards.
“Are you still going to that party?” she asked shyly.
“Yeah, I just told the guys that I’d be there, after I cleaned up a little bit,” I said, suddenly hopeful.
“Am I still invited?” She asked meekly.
My heart soared. “Of course. Did you change your mind?” I said. She nodded in the affirmative. She certainly didn’t seem like she was dying to go to the party. That was obvious.
We walked outside. “My car is over here. Do you need to go home first?”<br>
“No, this is as ready as I get,” she said.
“Sorry, I just meant--“<br>
“I know, I’m just giving you a hard time,” she said playfully.
Now, I had a dilemma on my hands, a real dilemma. Yet another rule of mine was in danger of being broken. I had always known that anybody who set foot in my condo would know pretty easily that I lived there alone. It was rather small, and there was no evidence of any other resident, especially a parent. For that reason, nobody had ever been allowed in. Until now, that had never been a problem. Tonight, for the first time, it was cramping my style. I had a choice: we could drive straight to the party, or I could take Judy back to my place, where she could wait while I did some much-need cleaning up. I didn’t really have any choice. We would head back to the condo and I would take my chances. Things were just too good right now, and I couldn’t help myself.
pp. 125
Now, I was up. I had deliberately avoided thinking about my opponent, Dave Charter. I did know that he was a senior, and had won most of his matches this year. He was very big for the weight class. When I went for the handshake during introductions I noted that he was several inches taller than me. Like so many of my opponents of late, it seemed that he had dropped a lot of weight to make 171.
We circled each other warily as the match started, each knowing that the outcome was important to our own team. I shot first, with bad results. I grabbed a leg, but he sprawled, kicking his legs backwards and landing most of his weight on my back. With my face exposed, he slammed me with a vicious cross-face. I thought it was flagrant, but the referee didn’t, so I continued to struggle. I was still holding onto his leg, but he was still cross facing hard and was slowly leveraging his body behind me. My nose hurt badly from the blow I’d received but I tried to block that out. After 20 more seconds, I couldn’t hold him back any longer. He whipped behind me and earned 2 points for a takedown.
At that point I became aware that my nose, which had born the brunt of the cross face, had begun dripping blood. I looked up at the referee to show him, and he immediately called for injury time. I had only wrestled a minute, but I was already out of breath as I walked back towards the bench.
The trainer checked to make sure my nose wasn’t broken, and tried to stop the bleeding. Then, she pushed some cotton balls up my nostrils to try to contain any more blood that flowed. This, I knew from experience, would contribute to my fatigue, because it would make breathing more difficult. I tried to talk with Coach Miles as best I could, but it was difficult with the trainer checking my nose, and my heavy breathing. As all this was going on, I watched someone I didn’t recognize clean my blood off the mat with a towel and a spray bottle. I’d bled more than I had realized.
“I don’t think I can go 6 minutes with this guy,” I gasped. “I’m already beat.”<br>
“You’re just not getting much air, is all,” he said. It was more than that, though. I was worn out even before the cotton balls were shoved up my nose. I didn’t say anything more about it though. “We need something here, Ben, just do your best. You’re better than he is,” he said firmly. I wasn’t so sure.
“He’s so d**n big. I’ll have try to end it early, that’s the only way,” I said without bravado, still breathing hard.
I knew exactly what I wanted to do. Having been taken down, I was on bottom, of course. I managed to stand up, and Charter stood with me, locking his hands around my waist. Perfect, I thought. I took four steps forward, increasing in speed, making him think that I was trying to break free or simply heading out of bounds for a fresh start. Then, I grabbed his right wrist with my left hand, and pivoted hard to my right. As I swung around I stuck my right arm between his legs, while retaining my hold on his other arm. Simultaneously I sat towards the mat. He had no choice but to follow my motion, first forward and then face-first toward the mat, because he hadn’t had a chance to let go.
I had executed a perfect standing switch, and Charter hadn’t seen it coming. How could he? In my day switches more common, but of course the standing switch less so. Just 5 years later, not many high school wrestlers were using the move. I hadn’t seen a standing switch in years. I hadn’t even tried one in practice since coming to Chapel Forge, let alone in a match. I’m sure my own teammates were as surprised as anybody else to see it.
The beauty of a standing switch was the whipping action that sent the other wrestler face first into the mat at lightning speed. As that was happening, he would instinctively be concerned with self-preservation rather than continuing his attack on me. If I had caused his body to slam to the mat as it did under almost any other circumstances I would be penalized for it. In this case, however, there was no penalty warranted. He chose to hold on, and so “followed me to the mat,” as it is stated in the rulebook.
The jolt usually provided a brief window for the switcher to attack an opponent who has dropped his guard. Not only that, the force with which he strikes the mat momentarily stuns the wrestler, making him more vulnerable. That’s just what happened that night. Charter slammed into the mat and came to rest on his hands and knees. I went in for the kill as he paused to regain his senses, throwing in one of my favorite pinning combinations, a nearside cradle. I felt little resistance until he was on his back, and by then it was too late. The referee had called the pin. Two consecutive first period pins had enabled us to take the lead again, by 24 – 20. The gym got really loud after the pin was called.
After I came off the mat desperate for air, I frantically pulled the cotton from my nose and threw it to the floor. More blood began to dribble out, and the trainer ordered me to lie down on the mats behind the bench. As I lay there I noticed that one side of the gym had grown very quiet. My nose, and one of my cheeks now, was throbbing and pulsing with pain.
We never relinquished our lead. In fact, we won two of the final three matches after mine, by decision. In one of the most shocking upsets of the season so far, Chapel Forge Township beat Peach Valley convincingly, by a score of 30 to 23. PV lost a few more matches that year. It turned out to be true that this was their weakest team in years. We didn’t know that at the time, though, and so that didn’t take away any of the luster from our win.
There was a lot of whooping and hollering in the locker room, but not by me. I couldn’t believe my nose wasn’t broken, and even went back to the trainer. She assured me that it wasn’t broken, but warned me that it would be quite sore for a week or so. “You’ll probably have a black eye in the morning, if not two,” she added. She handed me a fresh baggy of ice, which I gently applied when I had a spare hand while showering and dressing. As I was leaving, Robert Mendez reminded me about the party that most team members would be at later. “You’re coming, right?” he asked.
“I’ll see how this feels,” I said, lifting the bag of ice off of my nose, but if I’m alright I’ll be there.”<br>
“Are you kidding?” he said. “I wish I had a face like that tonight, the girls are going to eat you up! Make sure you bring the bag of ice,” he laughed.
I left the locker room in high spirits. My entire face hurt, not just because of the cross-face but also because some of my mat burns had been rubbed raw, but none of that matter at the moment because we had won a big match. I would go home, clean up, and actually drop by that party.
When I turned the corner in the gym lobby, I was startled. Judy was there, by herself, leaning against the wall. “Hi Ben, you were so great tonight!” she gushed. “Is your nose still bleeding?” When I got close enough, she saw my nose, and the ice bag that was in my hand. My nose was already turning a bluish color, and was a bit swollen. I think she was taken aback. “Are you okay?” she asked, with what sounded like genuine concern. I assured her that I was.
It felt unbelievably good to know that she had come to the match after all. The fact that she was outside the locker room meant that she’d come mostly to see me. That felt even better. “I’m so glad you came,” I said. “I looked for you but it was hard to see, there were so many people.”<br>
“We came late, and we ended up sitting in a bunch of fans from the other team. We had to keep kind of quiet,” she laughed. “Are you sure you’re OK?” she asked again, the concern returning to her voice.
“Yeah, I’m alright,” I said. “Who did you come here with?” I asked, looking around. There didn’t seem to be anybody with her.
“My friends Karen and Paula,” she explained. “They already left. I was kind of hoping you could give me a ride.”<br>
“Of course, I’d love to,” I said with all honesty. I was touched that she had come, and even more so because she had waited for me afterwards.
“Are you still going to that party?” she asked shyly.
“Yeah, I just told the guys that I’d be there, after I cleaned up a little bit,” I said, suddenly hopeful.
“Am I still invited?” She asked meekly.
My heart soared. “Of course. Did you change your mind?” I said. She nodded in the affirmative. She certainly didn’t seem like she was dying to go to the party. That was obvious.
We walked outside. “My car is over here. Do you need to go home first?”<br>
“No, this is as ready as I get,” she said.
“Sorry, I just meant--“<br>
“I know, I’m just giving you a hard time,” she said playfully.
Now, I had a dilemma on my hands, a real dilemma. Yet another rule of mine was in danger of being broken. I had always known that anybody who set foot in my condo would know pretty easily that I lived there alone. It was rather small, and there was no evidence of any other resident, especially a parent. For that reason, nobody had ever been allowed in. Until now, that had never been a problem. Tonight, for the first time, it was cramping my style. I had a choice: we could drive straight to the party, or I could take Judy back to my place, where she could wait while I did some much-need cleaning up. I didn’t really have any choice. We would head back to the condo and I would take my chances. Things were just too good right now, and I couldn’t help myself.