At the beginning of my last high school wrestling season, each wrestler on the team received a cardboard poster with the season's wrestling schedule printed on it, furnished by Pepsi.
I tacked the schedule onto the wooden door at the doorway between our kitchen and dining room. The door was almost always in the open position. I feel a bit silly about hanging the schedule on the door now. Perhaps my mother didn't want some silly sports schedule hanging on her door, especially during the holiday season. But no one told me to remove it and hang it elsewhere so that's where it stayed all season.
I would come home from meets and tournaments and record in the margin how I had done. Sometimes I recorded the score or my placing.
Unfortunately, I don't have the poster any longer. I have found some similar sports schedules provided by Pepsi from around that same time period that look quite similar to what I remember. The posters are sometimes marked showing wins and losses. So, at least I know the posters really existed and I didn't just imagine them.
I do have a small schedule of that wrestling season. And I know how I fared at each competition. Nonetheless, I tried to recreate the poster for the fun of it. It's interesting looking at it now.
* * *
I hadn't remembered that twice that season the opposing team had no one for me to wrestle and I received a bye. I placed third in my first two tournaments which doesn't seem so bad now. However, at the time I felt as though I was getting off to a rather middling start to my season. In fact, I was even pinned by a good wrestler at the South Winneshiek Tournament. At the Starmont Invitational I'd lost a close match in the second round to someone I was capable of beating. That same Waukon wrestler beat me again in a close match a couple weeks later.
I wrestled better in our second meeting. I scored a takedown early in the match. I even had to drag him from the edge of the mat to keep him from going out of bounds before securing my two-point takedown. But, of course, I gave up an escape and a takedown and lost the match by a point. At least that's the way I remember it. I was embarrassed. I was a senior and should have been beating this guy. I hadn't won a match against Waukon ever in high school, although I did wrestle a Waukon opponent to a 2-2 tie in a dual meet the year before.
* * *
I finally won the Central Invitational after Christmas break. I even pinned my opponent in the finals! I was elated. I was so happy to finally win a tournament that season and with a commanding performance. But my coach wasn't impressed. When he held a team meeting at the beginning of Monday's practice, he said I still wasn't being aggressive enough.
Two days prior to the Central tournament, when wrestling a Central wrestler at a home dual meet, I felt like I was going through the motions. Even our announcer, who was also a teacher, mentioned that I didn't quite seem myself that night. I don't believe he used the words lethargic or languid, but he noticed my lack of drive and passion that night. I had to agree with him.
The Decorah meet left me a bit disillusioned. I got beat by a freshman! I seem to recall him throwing me to my back twice. Each big move earned him five points in an instant. I had to really scrap to get my nine points. I think I had him on his back a couple of times. But it wasn't enough as I lost 10-9. As I left the mat my coach said something like, "You worked your ass off and still got beat by a point!" He seemed more disgusted or confused than angry.
One of my teammates seemed particularly upset with my performance even though he himself would get pinned that night. I wonder if he had a personal beef with the kid I wrestled. Before my match, he kept telling me I was going to kick my opponent's ass. As I was struggling in my match, he was yelling more than our coach. I was a bit upset with him actually. I wanted to tell him (perhaps even the entire team), "Don't get in my f*cking face before a match! Don't try to predict how I'm going to do in a match! Don't place your expectations on me! This is my f*cking match! Leave the match and the wrestling to me!"
I found an old newspaper clipping. Reading the article was a bit painful. The opposing team fully expected me to win that night. The opposing coaches were simply hoping their guy wouldn't get pinned. They figured if I simply won a 3-point decision that was a win for them. The article mentioned their freshman earning an upset victory over a senior. The opposing coach even thought my loss was a big turning point for them.
"That was the turning point right there," said Decorah's coach. "The wind really left their (Postville's) sails. I could see it."
Well, maybe he was right. Six of my teammates got pinned following my match. That's right. The other team scored six pins in a row and two more victories after my loss. We didn't win match all night. We received 12 points because of two forfeits. But we lost the meet in a resounding 49-12 shellacking. Still, I think it's a bit much to blame it all on me. Perhaps I should be flattered that the opposing coach thought so highly of me.
I met the guy who had beaten me one evening in Decorah after the season was over. He was a nice guy. He wasn't cocky. Defeating me might have been the highlight of his high school wrestling career. At any rate, he said he'd never been that calm and focused before a match before. I guess I brought out the best in him that night.
I came home that evening and ate a snack. I didn't eat out of sadness or anger. I was upset tough. I began to wonder about my rigid dieting. Maybe I needed to ease up a bit on my strictness. How could I let myself walk right into a throw twice? I knew I needed to get my shit together if I was going to achieve my lofty goals this season, mainly winning a conference title and qualifying for the state tournament. But things would get worse before they got better.
* * *
The night of the North dual I didn't want to be there. The dual was a home meet, but I still didn't want to be there. It was a cold January winter night, and I'd rather have been some normal guy just sitting at home watching television. How can you win a match when you have no desire to even be in the building let alone competing on the mat? Well, I learned that you can't.
When my opponent and I first tied up, things were going okay. He doesn't feel that strong. I can handle this guy. I can beat this guy.
I believe that sometime in the third (last) period, when I was wrestling in the bottom position, my opponent caught me in some move. I was suddenly imprisoned in an awkward position from which I couldn't escape. I just didn't have the strength, physically or mentally, to free myself. The referee blew his whistle and slapped the mat signaling the pin. I had just gotten pinned! I had just gotten pinned in front of the home crowd, in front of my parents, in my own f*cking school gymnasium!
A pin, or fall, is a victory condition in various forms of wrestling that is met by holding an opponent's shoulders or shoulder blades on the wrestling mat for a prescribed period of time.
A pin, or fall, is when you put your opponent on his back with any part of both shoulders or both shoulder blades of your opponent in contact with the mat for two seconds. When you pin your opponent, the match is over, and you are the winner.
I got pinned!
I got stuck!
My opponent won the match by fall. Did you enjoy the view of the lights on the ceiling while you were stuck on your back?
If an old newspaper article I found is accurate, I was pinned at the 5:20 mark. A high school match is 6 minutes. I don't know if I was winning or losing at that point. I suppose I would have given up 3 back points and lost regardless. But if I'd held on for 40 seconds at least I wouldn't have been pinned.
I didn't have the heart to write "pin" on the cardboard poster when I got home that night. It was too painful. I simply wrote "lost" and left it at that. My parents didn't say a word, thank God. Christ, I was embarrassed. In fact, I felt ashamed. I'd been pinned twice before in high school. I was pinned at a big JV tournament during my freshman year when I was asked to wrestle up a weight. And I'd been pinned earlier that year at South Winneshiek against a guy who became a very good wrestler indeed. In fact, he was a three-time state place winner in high school and a two-time NCAA Division III champion in college. But how the hell could I explain getting pinned like I just did?
Maybe I should have written "PINNED" on the poster as a reminder to get my shit together.
* * *
Arnold Schwarzenegger faced criticism for his underdeveloped calves early in his bodybuilding career, prompting him to publicly address the issue by training them intensely.
Instead of hiding his calves, he chose to confront the issue head-on. He cut off the bottoms of his training pants, making his calves visible to everyone, and publicly stated that he would train them intensely until they resembled "huge boulders".
Arnold was very determined to transform his calves, to the point of cutting off all his training pants. The embarrassment he was suffering every day gave him a lot of motivation and a sense of urgency to fire up his calf training.
Would the embarrassing defeat I'd just suffered on the wrestling mat fire me up?
* * *
A week later I did have a big win. At least it appears on paper to be a big win. I won 10-2. But it didn't seem like a big win at the time. It's clear that my opponent scored two points. Do you know how he scored two points? He took me down almost immediately after the whistle started the match. What the hell is wrong with me? Then I went on a rampage and didn't give up another point and even scored ten of my own.
The biggest test was yet to come.
* * *
At the conference tournament I was seeded second since the wrestler from North had pinned me. I walked up to the bracket sheets hanging on the gymnasium wall just in time to hear someone from North comment on the 112 lb. class. "Oh, we got this weight. He already pinned that guy from Postville."
I smiled at their cockiness. So, you think it's as simple as all that, huh? Well, you got another thing coming!
I knew something they didn't. I knew something no one else seemed to know. I knew I'd simply had an off night two weeks ago. I knew I could beat this guy. But I had to get past the kid from West Central again first. That's the match that had me freaking out. Sure, I dominated him before. But what if something went wrong?
The semi-final match against West Central went fine. In fact, I achieved something called a technical fall. I got ahead of my opponent by 15 points, and they stopped the match. Even during the match, I began to feel so confident I winked at one of my school's cheerleaders.
I felt no pressure going into the finals. I knew I wasn't going to get pinned again. I knew if I wrestled my best I could win. I did just that. If old newspaper articles are accurate, I defeated him 9-3. I heard through the grapevine that even the opposing coach was impressed by my performance.
At Monday's team meeting, my coach even praised me. He said, "If you keep wrestling like you did on Saturday, no one can stop you."
After I left the locker room one evening during the week of the Sectional tournament, I walked back to the locker room door for some reason. I overheard a teammate and my coach talking about me.
My teammate said, "The last two years he seemed to fizzle out toward the end of the season. But this year he seems to be getting stronger."
I smiled and walked away quietly somehow knowing he was right in his assessment.
* * *
I went on to win the sectional and district titles as well. By winning the district title, I qualified for the state tournament. I looked into the stands after winning the in the finals and gave my parents a thumbs up. At least that's how I remember it.
I didn't run and jump into my coach's arms. I simply walked to the edge of the mat, shook his hand, and said, "Finally."
I think he knew what I meant by that one word. He'd seen all of my ups and downs. He'd seen me triumph. He'd seen me utterly defeated. I come close to my goals the two previous years and now I'd gotten the job done. Sure, I was happy. But I was also relieved. I'd finally proved I could dominate when it really mattered. I hadn't fizzled out this year.
My dad couldn't wait for me to come into the stands. He came to the locker room to congratulate me.
When my mother got home from the district tournament she called my buddy Chris's mom.
"Do you remember that little boy you used to drive to pee wee wrestling tournaments? Well, he just made it to state!"
I received a lot of cards from people congratulating me on my successful season and for being a state qualifier.
The night before I left for the state tournament, I got a call from a beautiful blond girl from the junior class with whom I had some romantic history. She had seen me in victory and defeat. She'd seen me struggle to make weight. She'd seen me running along the road on summer nights to work on my physical conditioning while other kids were going to movies. She was happy to see me reach my goals. She wished me luck at state.
Before she hung up, she told me she loved me dearly and that I was the most amazing guy she'd ever known (Just kidding. She really did call me but this part about her loving me is hyperbole. I'm the author so I get to tell the narrative the way I want. I like this version. This is my truth! Ha!).
* * *
I know what you want to know. How did I do at state? I lost first round 5-2 and that was that. I did score a 2-point reversal doing a cool move called a standing switch. But I just couldn't handle my opponent. I was disappointed but not devastated. The guy who defeated me in that first round placed 4th. So, at least I can say I didn't beat by some second-rate adversary.
But my goal had always been merely to get to state. I'd never allowed my vision to be any loftier than that. I'd never been confident enough in my abilities to envision being on the awards podium at the state tournament. I thought qualifying for state was a big deal. I've learned that some people aren't impressed if one doesn't actually place.
When I spoke to my freshman college roommate, who was also from small town Iowa, over the phone that summer we talked briefly about sports. He was a basketball player. I mentioned wrestling.
"So, were you good?" he asked.
"I did all right," I replied.
"Did you make it to state?" he asked.
"Yeah," I answered.
"Oh, you're good!" he said.
See, he understood.
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