“In the Face of Annihilation: A Life Lesson on the Mat”
Post 1 of 2: “The Crusher”
There comes a day in every child’s life when they’ll let go of their parents’ hands and, using their knowledge, skills, instincts, and fortuity, they’ll venture into the world on their own, unguarded and determined in pursuit of their goals. We’ll watch them go, feeling both nervous and proud, knowing that regardless of whatever successes or failures they encounter, the most important aspect of their journey will be what they learn along the way. For my wife Jen and I, just such a moment occurred when our then 8-year-old son, Graham, came to us and made a rather stunning declaration. I wasn’t sure whether he understood the implications of what he was saying, but I knew his resolve was set, and that for better or for worse, he’d be embarking on a journey of adversity, growth, heartbreak, and, hopefully, some triumph.
Mom, Dad…I want to wrestle!
Wrestling is a fantastic sport. It teaches athletes the values of self-reliance, discipline, courage, and adaptability. Youth wrestling culture is intense for participants, parents, and fans alike. Meets take place in packed gymnasiums where the air is hot, the atmosphere is wild, and emotions run high. Bouts roll quickly from one competition to the next, with multiple matchups often going on at once. For younger wrestlers most matches consist of three, one-minute periods. Some go the distance and get decided by points, whereas others end in pins and can be over in a matter of seconds. Voices shout. Bodies crash. Whistles screech as palms slap the mats. Arms rise. Tears fall. In other words, sensory overload at its finest; beautiful, powerful, and raw.
Wrestling: one of the final frontiers of true, one-on-one athletic competition.
Following six weeks of practice, Graham was ready for his first meet. Because our local wrestling club was hosting the competition, coaches, wrestlers, and parent volunteers all worked hard to prepare the high school gymnasium, field house, cafeteria, and concession stand, along with the registration, weigh-in, staging, and award-presentation areas. There would be 68 teams and 352 athletes competing at the one-day event, and since this was our family’s first meet, I arrived early with Graham to get a lay of the land. I suspected he was nervous by how jittery he was acting, but I could tell that he was excited. He talked with friends and, of course, engaged with them on iPad games while we waited in lines. I spent most of my time asking questions to some of the other wrestling-club parents, texting Jen on how things were going, and helping to coordinate meeting points with the grandparents. Shortly after weighing Graham in, we received some bad news. His fingernails would need to be cut, and to his horror, I was given a pair of unsterilized “community clippers” to trim them while he resigned to making retching noises and trying not to dry heave into the trashcan. It was a rookie mistake, and one we would never make again.
A sport with unique traditions.
Once Graham was checked in, I led the way to the school’s cafeteria to meet up with Jen, who, along with our four-year-old daughter, Penelope, would soon be arriving. I asked Graham if he wanted anything to eat, knowing we still had some time. Not surprisingly, he ignored my offer in favor of watching kids play games on their iPads. With more athletes arriving and the atmosphere getting louder, I noticed a boy from one of the other wrestling clubs seated at a table nearby. It wasn’t the bright colors of his custom-designed warm-up suit that caught my attention, so much as his black stocking cap. I could see that it was covered in pieces of metal, which struck me as being odd, and not to mention uncomfortable-looking. Then I remembered something that Graham’s coaches had mentioned at their preseason meeting, about how wrestlers are given safety pins in commemoration of any match that they successfully pin their opponent. Figuring the kid had enough metal on his head to pass for a James Bond villain, I smiled, and once Jen and Penelope showed up, we all made our way towards the gymnasium to gather for team warm-ups.
The athletes aren’t the only ones who feel adrenaline on the day of a wrestling meet.
After reviewing Graham’s Round Robin bracket, we learned that he’d have three matches on the day against opponents of similar ages and weights. Several mats were set up in the main gymnasium, and once the tournament kicked off, it was clear that things were going to move quickly. We had to watch the scorekeepers table to know what bout number was taking place, and as we waited, I kept my eyes on Graham, who sat kneeling beside me with his hands wedged firmly between his legs. I can still picture him in his headgear, orange singlet, and glasses, watching the wrestlers in the matches ahead of him. At last, his time came, and as he stepped onto the mat, I remember feeling relieved that he wasn’t shaking, even though every part of me probably was.
Ready…set...wrestle!
Graham’s first match was a great experience for him. He had an early escape and reversal, and after two periods he was leading in points. It was a clean bout that could’ve gone either way, though ultimately his opponent pinned him just before time ran out. Afterward, I asked Graham how he thought it went, and he said, “Good.” I asked him what he learned, and he said, “It’s harder than it looks.” Even though he lost, he still had a great attitude. He wouldn’t have to wait long for his next match, for no sooner did we leave the mat, than we returned, and Graham, looking self-assured, stepped into the wrestling circle with the confidence of a kid who’s been battle-tested, and who knows what he’s getting into. As he stood alongside the referee, I turned my attention to his opponent. The boy was almost a foot shorter than Graham. Thick in the shoulders and waist, he had a compact torso, a low center of gravity, and very little neck. He looked like what I would imagine a fifth-generation wrestler would look like. He was also all business on the pre-match stare down. Prior to the referee blowing his whistle it dawned on me that I’d seen the kid before, and my heart dropped into my stomach. He was the skull-crushing Bond villain from the cafeteria. The one with all the pins in his hat.
It’s an interesting feeling to know that you’re kid is about to get pummeled, and there’s nothing you can do about it.
Graham was on his back in six seconds, and no sooner did the referee call the takedown, than Crusher (as our family would later nickname his opponent) moved in for the kill. He threw his weight onto Graham’s chest and shoulders, and for a moment I thought the match was over. To Graham’s credit, he rolled onto his belly, but he was still entrenched in Crusher’s wheelhouse. From our positions alongside the mat, Jen, Penelope, and I did our best to provide Graham with what we assumed was expert advice. Break his grip! Get away! Stand up! I watched intently, hoping for a miracle, yet nothing I’d witnessed up until that point would prepare me for what happened next. Crusher placed his hand onto the back of Graham’s head and, to my amazement, began pushing Graham’s forehead into the mat, as if he was trying to smash his brains out. I couldn’t tell what Graham was thinking since I could no longer see his face, but I was pretty sure he wasn’t happy about what was happening.
Life is hard. Sometimes it can beat you up. Literally.
Crusher would eventually use a half nelson to turn Graham over, and with time running out in the period, he registered the pin. I felt proud that Graham held himself together throughout the ordeal. There was no quivery chin or sign of watery eyes (though I wouldn’t have held it against him if there was). He didn’t say much as he stepped off the mat, but when he looked at me, I could tell he was in a semi-state of shock, like he’d just been run over by a truck and was wondering if I got a look at the license number. I patted him on the back and told him he did a good job of hanging in there. Sometimes these things happen. Crusher had clearly wrestled in a few of these tournaments before, however, it wouldn’t be until later that I’d realize how much of an understatement this was. I did some research. This was Crusher’s eighteenth tournament in two years. With a schedule like that, the kid clearly never had a weekend off, and it made me wonder whether we might end up seeing him again. As it turned out, we wouldn’t have to wait long…
Stay tuned for the conclusion! Until next time, everyone!
- Todd
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