Wrestling Up (Part 2)

For a tough team competition against one of our greatest high school rivals, Coach asked me to wrestle at 185. I had been wrestling at 167, more than twelve pounds above my weight, but our 185-pound wrestler was sick. We would be hard-pressed to win, even if we won at 185.

I agreed to it, but there was one problem. I weighed less than 155, and a person couldn’t wrestle more than one weight above his actual weight class. I had to weigh above 155 to wrestle at 185. So, for the hours before weigh-in, I ate and drank everything I possibly could.

Coach wanted to keep my wrestling change a secret. “It will give you a psychological advantage.”

I told him I didn’t feel I needed a psychological advantage. “Just tell the other team who will be wrestling where.”

Coach refused. He even put my name at 167 on the match board in the gym. He said even if I didn’t need the advantage, our J.V. taking my spot might. However, the referee had to be told, because he had to certify the weights.

When the ref arrived, Coach told him what he planned to do. The ref had never heard of doing such a switch, but Coach showed him in the rule book that the home team could make the change without announcing it, as long as the wrestlers made their weights.

Before the other team arrived, Coach wanted to see where I was at. The bar on the scale barely hovered under the 155 mark. Coach told me to eat or drink something. I wasn’t sure I could, but he said even a cup of water should be enough. I already had to use the bathroom so badly I could hardly stand it.

Lenny, the team clown, quipped, “I guess you’ll be gladder when your bladder’s flatter.”

I slowly sipped a cup of water, trying to keep everything down. The other team arrived, and we slowly worked through the weigh-ins, starting at 98 pounds. By the time we finally got to the 167-pound wrestlers, I was sick and in great distress. I climbed on the scale, and Coach put it at 155. The bar barely tipped up above the 155 mark, and Coach had the ref note it before moving the scale to 167. I then turned and headed quickly to the restroom.

For the beginning handshake, Coach had me line up across from the 167-pound opponent, leaving our 185-pound position empty. So, when it came time for the 167-pound match, and our J.V. wrestler walked out, the other coach stopped everything and asked what was going on.

When he was told, he laughed. “That will just give us two advantages. Our 167-pound wrestler will have a better chance, and Calloway will kill Howard with that weight difference.”

The 167-pound match was close, but ultimately, our J.V. won by two points. Then it was my match. I knew I had to be smart and wrestle carefully. Not only was I giving up thirty pounds, but I had read reviews of wrestlers all over the state. Calloway was given the moniker of the “meanest” wrestler in Idaho.

The instant the whistle blew, Calloway shot in. With his added weight, he was able to pull me in and take me down. But the minute we hit the mat, I did a reversal. I worked him to his back but could not force a pin. He escaped and took me down again. The lead in the match switched back and forth. I was straining every ounce of energy and strength I had. In the last twenty seconds, I was ahead by two. He escaped and was only down by one. Coach thought Calloway was ahead by one and started screaming. I shot in but couldn’t pull him up to take him down. But I refused to let him go.

When the match ended, Coach said, “Howard, you needed to take him down to win.”

I said, “Coach, look at the scoreboard.”

We then won the heavyweight match, which clinched the team win for us.

But probably the most interesting event of the night came later. The opposing 167-pound wrestler, whom I was initially supposed to wrestle, sought me out. He told me he was glad I won. When I asked why, he said, “Calloway told me that my fear of you was all in my head, and if I didn’t win, the team would kick my butt.” Then he smiled. “It will be interesting to hear what he says now.”