The Main Event — Bring It: Chapter 7

Ever since lunch, I’d been too busy to really appreciate how sick I still was. A far cry from the previous day, still I was not completely over whatever I had. Since my first match wasn’t until much later, I was hopeful that just the act of stretching out and warming up would help me to sweat out a lot of what lingered.

As I knew it would be, a parking space close to the school was nonexistent. I had given up my prime location to get Bart and his stereo back home. When I returned to school, I had to park out on the baseball field. There was a line to get into the school that extended through the lobby and out into the parking lot. I avoided that mess, walking around the building to the back door of the gymnasium, just as I figured, the buses for the opposing teams had arrived and their wrestlers and cheerleaders were de-boarding and heading through doors that a sheriff’s deputy was monitoring and a couple of our JV wrestlers were holding open.

“Brent!” I turned to see Mike Smith’s outstretched hand. We shared a brief hug. “How ya been?”

“Great,” I didn’t want to reveal how sick I had been. I was recovering after all. “And you?”

“You know how it is.” Mike laughed as we joined the queue at the door, waiting for everyone in front of us to find a place inside before we could also enter. As the line was moving, it didn’t appear we’d wait for long. “You ready for this fiasco?”

“It’s a bit overhyped, I think.”

“Yes, it is. You’re looking good. Somebody told me you bulked up a little.”

“I’m flattered I’m the subject of conversation outside of Countryside.”

“You’re kidding, right? I mean — you’re that man, now,” Mike said.

“The marked man.”

“Well, yeah. But tonight, I’ll fix that for you. They’ll be too busy talking about me.”

I laughed.

“So, how much do you weigh now?”

“I don’t have a clue, not exactly. Around 210, I guess. I’ve been working out.”

“It shows. Stronger, I’ll bet.”

“Yeah, a little.” The line finally allowed us entry. “We’d better get to our teams before our coaches panic.”

“We wouldn’t want that. See you later, Brent.”

“When it counts.”

“Good luck. You’re gonna need it.”

“You too, my man. You too.”

Coach Friske was standing at the top of the stairwell that led down to the locker room. “Where have you been?”

“I had to run Bart home along with all his stereo equipment.”

“I heard the Rock opera went over well.”

“Yeah, we’re superstars for the next day or two.”

“Well, let’s hope you keep the streak going through tonight. Are you feeling better?”

“Better all the time.” I flashed a smile. “Think I lost a couple of pounds in the process.”

“We’ll see. Weigh-in is in twenty minutes.”

“I’d best get ready, then.”

Coach Ellis walked with our team to do the formalities. I hoped everyone on the team made weight. We’d all worked too hard to have someone forfeit their matches over a fraction of a pound. Ralph was always the one I worried about. Even with the allowance for growth over the course of the season, he was still struggling to make the cut-off. When he made it by half a pound, I clapped, as did everyone else on our team.

When all of us passed weight, there was no doubt I’d be over my minimum. I was curious how much the virus or whatever I had been fighting off had taken out of me, but it was not that bad. I weighed 209 and a half pounds.

As I returned to the locker room to suit up, Coach Friske came back from monitoring the other teams’ weigh-ins. He told me Mike Smith was at 266 pounds even and Mark Heath was at 298 and a quarter.

The arrangement of the schedule was drawn by weight class, the matches scheduled into three passes during which each of the three teams’ wrestlers would be pitted against one another. In this way, the wrestler would have an adequate rest period between their matches. According to that schedule, I wrestled Mike first. Later Mike wrestled Mark Heath, leaving my match against Mark as the dramatic conclusion to the meet, especially if we both beat Mike, which, despite what Mike had predicted, was the scenario I expected.

The Coach didn’t seem happy about the arrangement. He said that if Mike picked this night to finally wrestle up to his potential, beating Mark could prove a bad thing for me. Mark would be out for blood. It was whatever it would be. To me, it didn’t matter which came first. Nothing I could do about it except give my best effort, which I intended to do regardless.

Our team took a turn on the mat for stretches and warming up. When Annie saw me, she waved and blew a kiss. I smiled. She never gives up, but I knew that already. I couldn’t afford distractions, so focusing on the matches ahead, the biggest problems were going to be the noise, confusion, and the combined heat of everyone in the gymnasium. There were close to two thousand people in attendance, not counting the media circling the mat.

A couple of photographers snapped photos of me while I was warming up. Not sure why that was an important shot, but afterward, each of them wanted me to pose. Coach Friske got between them and me, telling me to continue getting ready. Then Coach Ellis had to chase the same pair away from Ralph.

When we returned to the sidelines, Coach Ellis huddled us together and talked about concentration and focus. “Don’t let this circus atmosphere distract you. Put on your blinders and care about the only thing that matters, winning your matches. Tomorrow, all the media will be gone, and they’ll continue to write all the nasty things about us they have all season long. Tonight, we have the chance to prove them wrong. We can win this, guys. We all need to focus and support one another, just like we did last week.”

Ralph drew the unranked competitor first. As expected, the result was a quick pin. We were off to a good start. Ralph was on a mission. Once all the other weight classes had completed the first pass of matches, Ralph would have his second match.

“That’s the way we start, guys,” Kevin said. “We’re ahead. Let’s keep it that way.”

When our next two wrestlers won their first matches, which in one case was not expected, no one dared talk about a possible sweep for superstitious reasons. In the middle of our lineup, there was always a vulnerability. I fully expected to start seeing losing matches with the next weight class, but I was pleasantly surprised when that didn’t happen.

The coach expected seven wins as a minimum but felt we could take as many as nine or ten. But we’d already won a few matches he wasn’t expecting. The next real test was coming, a first-year wrestler who began winning with some consistency a few weeks ago. When he also won his first match it was an upset.

“You gotta believe in this thing,” Kevin said as he stood up. “Twenty-two and ‘O’, baby!”

“Don’t jinx it!” Ralph growled from the other end of the row of seats that our team used.

Standing up I felt like I needed to walk around and get refocused. Kevin’s outburst disrupted my concentration. I was doing fine, staying in my own world, but now I was beginning to feel the pressure. Please don’t let me be the one who loses! was my silent prayer.

Coach Friske saw me heading to the water fountain. He joined me, away from the main floor. “What’s going on?”

“It’s hot, noisy, and I was thirsty.”

“Besides the obvious?”

“I’d like to get past all this and forget about it.”

“Then forget about it, until you need to think about it.”

“If I lose, everyone will blame it on me being sick.”

“And if you win, everyone will say it was despite being sick.”

“Being sick doesn’t figure into it at all. Once you’re out there it’s about focus,” he said.

“You know that same as me. There’s only the moment; it’s only you and the other guy.”

I leaned back against the hallway wall.

“That’s how it has to be. If you break your concentration for one second against one of these two guys… Well, you know. No mistakes are allowed at your level. It’ll be this way from now on.”

“Until it’s over.”

“The regular season ends tonight. So, the rest is up to you.”

I nodded.

“I showed you what you needed to know, Brent. You’ve pinned me, several times.”

“Yeah.”

“That means you can be better than me. But nothing else matters except how these matches play out.”

“A lot of that is luck.”

“Yeah, you’re right. To get to that point, conditioning plays a major part as well. After that, it comes down to confidence, the mental piece of the game Coach Ellis always talks about.”

“He says that’s what makes a champion.”

“It is when you have everything else under control. Do you know what my record was in college?”

I shook my head.

“Two hundred sixty-seven wins against seven losses. Seven losses in four years, Brent. Three were in my first season, two in the next. One in my junior year and — “

“So, did you take the NCAA title any of those years?”

Coach Friske turned away. “When I was a senior. That wasn’t an Olympic year. I wanted to go for the gold. They gave me a tryout for the national team for the world championships, though. I thought I was the best until I went up against world-class guys. That was humbling. I barely made alternate.”

“You should be proud of that. That’s elite company.”

He nodded. “You’ll get there someday if you want it.”

I stared at him.

“You can if you have the desire and the willingness to keep working as you’ve been for the past few weeks.”

I started to loosen up, stretching my legs and lower back muscles.

“I guess you missed the point of me telling you all of that about college. It wasn’t bragging. In my senior year at college, I was two hundred seventy-five pounds and all of it was solid. Very few people beat me in my entire career. I wrestled some seriously good wrestlers. I know how to win. Once you clue in on that, you can forget that I’m older, heavier, and slower than I was, because I still know how to win. You must be stronger and faster than I am to beat me, Brent. Before my national team tryouts, only a couple of people had pinned me since I was a freshman in high school. You pin me every day, now — multiple times. How long has it been since I pinned you?”

“A while.”

“I gave you the tools to make this work for you. Every match you and I had in practice was real. It mattered to both of us. These guys don’t have those experiences. They’ve got nothing on you, now.”

I drew a deep breath and sighed.

“Now, there is only one guy who can ever beat you.”

“Me.”

“You have to believe that. Who’s better than you?”

“Nobody!”

When I returned to my place at the end of our wrestlers’ row, I expected to hear the sad news of losses. There was not a single wrestler who was talking. Everyone was focused on the match at hand. Chuck, the 155-pound wrestler, was ahead in points and in the dominant position, accumulating ride time. It was the second period of his first match. He was headed for a win.

Then the unthinkable, he was revered and thrown into an immediate near fall. He neck-bridged, holding on until the period expired. He’d lost most of his ride time advantage but was still ahead in points. He started the third period with his opponent in the up position.

As soon as the whistle blew, he scooted, sitting out to one side, feigning that he was trying to stand up for the escape. His opponent committed to counter. Immediately, he turned inside the other guy’s grasp, gained leverage, and rolled him, executing a reversal. With his opponent in a near fall, the team chanted for the pin.

With forty seconds expired in the third period, Chuck prevailed.

Gary stood, ready for his turn. It was only then that I realized the streak continued. Incredibly, unimaginably, no one from my team had yet lost a match.

As the 167-pound match began, Gary immediately seized the advantage, scoring a takedown and a two-point near fall. Maintaining control and constantly throwing the opposition into compromising situations, he finally achieved a pin with ten seconds left in the first period.

Gary sat waiting for his next opponent, who was heavily favored in their upcoming match, in the most recent poll he ranked ninth in the state and number one in the league.

If the media was looking for a new storyline, building it around an incredible team performance would have made sense. Countryside was primed to win the meet, closing in on half of the total possible wins for the meet. No one expected that. Not in his wildest dreams had Coach Ellis imagined beating both opposing teams, one the defending league champion and runner up at the district tournament.

In the larger picture, Timmy and Kevin were expected to win one and lose one. But Timmy won his match by decision. Kevin pinned his first opponent in only sixteen seconds.

I doubted my matches would live up to inflated expectations. We all might split our matches, winning one and losing one. If anyone won both matches…

The drama and suspense were not what any of us sought. Each of us wanted to settle scores. There’d be a chance for payback next week at the league tournament and perhaps, after that, at the district meet. But this was the first major test for each of us since Lake.

When I took the mat and approached Mike, we shook hands. There was no idle chatter between us, only wary respect. Each of us knew how to win and we were both aware that losing was also a distinct possibility. Which one of us wanted victory the most?

Visualizing Pam, playing out in my mind that I was calling her from the payphone in the lobby to tell them about my matches, I was wrestling for my team but I wanted to win just to be able to give her good news. Defeat didn’t enter into the equation. I knew I could win and so, I would win. I wasn’t going to tell her I failed.

Mike had advantages, mainly experience, and he was no dummy. But he’d never wrestled Coach Friske. Confident the advantage was mine, faster and stronger than ever, the real difference was that I had found purpose and knew ways to win against anyone.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Annie applauding me from the mat-side along with the other cheerleaders. She began chanting my name and the others followed her lead. The momentary distraction reminded me to stay in focus. Allow for no interruptions in the mental process I initiated. Zeroed in on the target, one wrestler in front of me. Pinning Mike was the objective.

When the whistle blew, I locked arms around Mike’s head and shoulder, feigning one move that sold him to step one way, shifting his momentum enough for me to seize control when I abruptly changed directions. Dropping him to the mat, I quickly fell across him. Mike struggled. He was strong, but I had him. His neck bridge was all that prevented him from being pinned. If I had a few more pounds, I might have forced his shoulders down.

Then, I attempted something different, a trick from Coach Friske’s assorted stealth moves. Mike fell for it, and I gained the necessary advantage. He could lift my weight with his neck muscles alone, but for how long? What level was his conditioning? Still, he held me up for almost half of the period before finally collapsing to the mat. Squirming, he attempted to keep one shoulder up, but it was too late. He could no longer lift either. The pin was called with twenty-eight seconds left in the first period.

We both came to the center of the mat for the referee to raise my hand. Mike patted me on the back. “You’re damned good, dude.”

“Do me a favor, Mike. Beat Mark for once.”

“That’ll only piss him off for you.”

“Just beat his ass. I can handle Mark.”

Mike chuckled. “Yeah, I believe you can.”

My seat on the sideline was possibly only one of two available in the entire gymnasium. After receiving some congratulations, I sat. My teammates were respectful that I still had another match, the most important one, perhaps.

It would be a long time to wait. The importance of my final match depended on what Mike did with Mark.

My teammates continued their winning ways, one match at a time, padding our total, getting closer to the improbable, a clean sweep. We’d outperformed the coaches’ wildest expectations. Not that there weren’t serious moments of doubt. Ralph narrowly won his second match, battling his way out of a near fall late in the match. Timmy fought back from a deficit to take a victory by two points on a last-minute takedown and near fall.

Chuck’s luck continued when his opponent slipped and fell backward. Chuck seized control as he covered for the pin.

Gary’s moment of truth was next. The continuation of the team’s streak depended on him beating a guy he’d yet to defeat.

Seeming tentative as he circled around his nemesis, Gary maintained eye contact with his opponent, the presumed league champion who was clearly the aggressor. Still, Gary learned many tricks from wrestling against Jim Baylor in practice all last season. In last year’s district championship match Jim eliminated this guy, but the wrestler had not lost since.

Clearly, Gary was on the defensive. The coach shouted out instructions, alerting him to the vulnerability of his opponent. He was patient, waiting for the opportunity to come again. The referee warned him for stalling.

The first round ended with the score tied at three, each wrestler having a takedown and an escape.

Coach Ellis gave Gary a strategy to follow. Listening, nodding his head before he went back out onto the mat, Gary seemed more intensely focused.

When the match resumed, Gary challenged, stepping into his opponent, and forcing a counter move. Having seen his chance, he scored a takedown and worked it, getting a near fall for two points. He continued to dominate, pulling the other wrestler back to the center of the mat instead of riding him out of bounds. He maintained control, rolling his adversary, and then immediately falling across his body, Gary went for the pin, hooking a leg, with a perfectly executed cradle.

Next up, of interest directly to me, was part two of what had been billed as the heavyweight showdowns. Everyone expected the usual outcome. Most felt it was inevitable. Based on history, who would have argued the point? No one except Mike believed he stood a chance. By precedent alone, Mark was destined to win.

Mike beating Mark would make me happy, but moreover, I wanted a match dragged out for as long as possible, wearing Heath down because I knew that barring a mistake, Heath wouldn’t pin me. He couldn’t do it the last time we met. Now that I was stronger and could neck-bridge more than his weight for well over a minute, I believed he didn’t have a chance. That would frustrate him, causing him to take chances and make his own mistakes. I’d love to pin the fat ass, but if I didn’t have the opportunity, I knew I could outlast him. I would not let being sick dictate what I could and could not do.

Mike scored first against Mark. For the first time in any match against the defending champion of everything, Mike was leading. Mark escaped, but Mike scored another takedown. The pattern continued throughout the first period until Mike was ahead of Mark by seven. Going into the second period, Mike maintained the advantage.

When the whistle blew, Mark sat out and forced an escape, but as he stood, Mike dropped him again to the mat and scored both a takedown and a near fall. He was doing to Mark exactly what he needed, exactly how I wrestled the champion at Lake. He continued to lead. Mark continued to battle back, but already the champ was showing signs of fatigue. He was making little mental errors, some of those Mike picked up on and used to his advantage.

Mike carried his control of Mark into the third round, maximizing his ride time until the only conceivable way Mark could win would be if he pinned Mike. Despite trying everything, Mark couldn’t reverse or even escape. Time ran out. Mike leaped into the air, celebrating. Finally, he’d beaten his archrival!

Already on my feet, on the edge of the mat, I waited to congratulate Mike as he came off the mat. He wore a broad smile. I patted him on the head, and then we hugged.

“I did it, bro!”

“You sure did!”

Returning to my seat, I settled in to observe the remaining matches for my team’s wrestlers. One by one they proceeded. Was the unlikely conclusion imminent? Would my victory over Heath ultimately stand between my team and a 22–0 outcome for the meet?

The streak continued, 20–0 heading into Kevin’s second match of the evening. He was confident as he stood beside the mat that he’d pass on the torch of responsibility for the unbroken string to me. Yet, early on, he made a huge mistake, resulting in a pin before the end of the second period. Finally, it was broken. I was next. Would I fall victim to Mark’s revenge or would I help the team rebound?

At the center of the mat, Mark stood, appearing different, changed in a way I’d never seen before, dejected. Earlier, I’d pinned the man he’d just lost to. The guy he’d always beaten dragged out a match against him for three rounds — just like I had done back in January. I hadn’t lost since. He knew I’d improved. He must have doubts. There were now two wrestlers in the league who had defeated him and now I had a second shot.

It was obvious in his eyes and in his handshake before the match began, I sensed the truth. His confidence was shattered. Although no one had ever pinned Mark Heath, it could well be time for that streak to be broken, too.

He resisted my first move, exactly as I expected. He didn’t anticipate what came behind my feint, though. I dropped in behind him and forced him to fall backward onto the mat. Immediately, I fell across him, hooking a leg. In thirteen seconds, by a pin, I defeated Mark Heath for the second time in the season. I leaped to my feet, but not to celebrate. I reached out my hand to Mark, offering my assistance to return him to his feet.

He stood beside me at the center of the mat, granting me the sporting courtesy he’d denied me before. Waiting for the referee to raise my hand in triumph, when it was official, he turned into me for a quick hug, then he pulled away, patting my back before heading to the locker room.