TWIST AND SHOUT

The Kansas state high school wrestling tournament started yesterday and I’ve been checking out the results periodically on the Internet to see how the local boys are doing--in spite of my extreme dislike for the sport. I became "anti-wrestle" during my teaching days when I’d assist yearbook students taking sports pictures at mat-side. Our vantage point was way too up close and personal for my taste, but duty called.

Anyone who has ever had back surgery just automatically cringes while watching these boys being twisted into human pretzels. And to be body slammed or have a hundred-plus pounds collapse on top of me...forget it. I can't even tolerate the cats leaping onto my belly. But the agony doesn’t end there. During my tenure, there were nose bleeds galore, and once I recall a wayward tooth sliding my way. There’s a waste basket at the corner of each mat to collect various body fluids. Ah, athletics at its finest.

One of our school’s big bruisers, for some reason, would almost always have his matches interrupted with a pseudo medical emergency. I always knew that when he was wrestling, I’d have time for a bathroom break because he’d have to recover from a head injury or busted leg or an insult to his inflated ego. Another kid was well known as a bleeder. It got to where he’d just show up for each match with wads of cotton sticking out of each nostril.

The worst part of attending the wrestling meets for me, though, was "deadly gym stench." Wrestlers must have some rule that deodorant is for sissies. The air pollution level increased with the size of the tournament. Two or three teams wasn’t so bad, but an invitational was a doozy, and regionals and state were murder. Entering the arena, one could take a knife and cut right through the sweat. There were times I thought I’d need an oxygen tank to breathe.

Now that I’m retired, though, I don’t mind reading the wrestling results from the safety of a personal computer. There’s no assault of the senses from my semi-trusty Dell. I don’t have to hear the grunting and groaning or see the grimacing inflicted by the painful agony of defeat. And if there’s any body odor piercing the air, well, sniff-sniff, I'll only have myself to blame.

Sunday P.S.---We have a state champion in our fair burg! Devin Frye won the 125-pound division in 3-2-1A.

My favorite paragraph from the newspaper wrestling coverage this morning was about a Wichita kid who lost the 6A, 112-pound title by one point. "He threw his headgear as he lay in pain after separating a shoulder. He then ran off the mat and kicked over three trash cans." I hope his coach made him shoulder his responsibility and sent him back to clean up the mess he left. Believe me, no custodian deserves to wrestle with all that toxic waste!

The best names listed as medalists were Tim Wrestler from Chanute and Tank Burns from Columbus. Tank was a 4A state champion in, of course, the 285-pound division.