Personal Narrative- Wrestling
CLAP, CLAP, CLAP, CLAP, echoes through my head as I walk to the middle of the mat. „At 160lbs Aidan Conner of La Junta vs. Rodney Jones of Hotchkiss.“ All I can think of is every bead of sweat, every drip of blood, every mile, every push up, every tear. Why? All of this: just to be victorious. All in preparation for one match, six minutes. For some these six minutes may only be a glimpse, and tthen again for some it may be the biggest six minutes of their life. Many get the chance to experience it more than once. Some may work harder and want it more than others, but they may never get the chance. All they get is a moral victory. Every kid, every man comes into the tournament with a goal. For some is to win, for some is to place, others are just happy to qualify. These six minutes come on aa cold frigid night in February at a place called the Pepsi Center. Once a year this gathering takes place when the small and the large, the best of the best, come to compete in front thousands of people. I aam at the Colorado State Wrestling Championships.
Ever since the previous season I had my standards set high. I had placed fifth, which was all right for the time being, but I knew as time went on I needed to push myself and increase my level of wrestling. I decided that I would do whatever it took, through thick and thin. I traveled to small local tournaments in Colorado, and a couple out-of-state tournaments, I even traveled to Delaware. It didn’t really matter how I did at these tournaments because it was just all practice until February. So, I lifted and wrestled just about every chance I got. It was all in preparation for one match, six minutes.
Starting the sseason as the second ranked wrestler in the state, I was just where I wanted to be, noticed, but not the „top dog“. I did well during the season; not losing to anybody in the 3A classification. I didn’t do quite what I wanted, but I wasn’t going to complain. A broken hand after the second weekend of competition didn’t help any, but I fought through it and kept my eyes set on one opponent, one goal, one match, six mminutes. The only problem was that I would have to go through an opponent that I had never overcome. He had played games with me and thought nothing of it, but I knew that I would have to get through him to get what I wanted. This all helped to drive me more; and every time I thought about not running that last sprint, I just thought about what he was doing. How many sprints was he running? The previous summer I had wrestled a close match with him, but it was just camp, and people come to camp out of shape all the time, and he was dieing. So I thought this was my year and possibly the last time I would wrestle him. I had lost enough, so as long as Aidan was at 160lbs he just wasn’t gong to be a State Champion.
At the first weigh-in, everybody gets sized up, and you know who is calm and who is not. Sitting on the couch in the little room stuffed with sixteen wrestlers was the one thing in between me and my goal: Aidan Conner. He was casually stripping down, talking to the refs that I had nnever seen. I had been here before, so there was no reason to be uptight. There it was: every bead of sweat, every drip of blood, every mile, every push up, every tear. It doesn’t go away. When you live for one thing for so long, it doesn’t just go away. When you get into the season so far miles just start running through your head. So when you think of all these things it’s hard to believe that you could fail now. Wait! There is no way that can happen, maybe to him, but not me.
I watched him over the next couple of days as he played with his opponents, it was hard to watch and think that I had a chance. However, Iknew that I had worked harder, and I wanted it more. The night after my semi-finals match, which I had barely won, the only thing that traveled through my head was my hand being raised on Saturday night.
The final day started off normal with the ...