Wrestling the Captain of the Football Team
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I've stated before that gym class wasn't my most favorite class (especially during "shirts & skins). If I wasn't being embarrassed, I was getting hurt. Face it, fat boys aren't very athletic. There was, however, this one time when I was pretty good, even if I say so myself.
We were in gym and we were doing a unit on wrestling. Each boy was paired up with another boy (several girls wanted to wrestle the guys, but weren't allowed). The pairings were in the same weight class and we wrestled for a grade. The better you wrestled, the better your grade. There was a problem. I was the only kid in my weight class. I had to wrestle someone who was bigger than I was.
I had wrestled this kid before in Jr. High gym class. When we first went against each other, he grabbed my shoulders & hurled me to the mat. Using survival skills from being tormented at home by my brother, I hit and immediately sprang up. His eyes bugged out & his jaw hit the mat. "You bounced." was all he muttered throughout the rest of the match.
But I digress. This was two years later and he was several pounds heavier. We wrestled and both of us got a "B" (I won the match). After everyone was finished, the gym teacher said that if you wrestled again, you could up your grade. Not many wanted to wrestle again. There was one who did. He was the captain of the Varsity Reserve football team. Nobody in his weight class wanted to wrestle him. I was in the next class up. I agreed (I don't have a clue why).
I was in my weight class because I was fat. He was near my class because he was ripped. There wasn't an ounce of fat on his body. When we began, I knew I was in for it.When he would take me down, I would escape. When he would put a move on me, I'd wriggle out of it. It was like being attacked by my brother again. I used every survival skill that I had mastered.
At one point, my opponent grabbed me by the shoulder and thigh. He then proceeded to lift me over his head like an Olympic weightlifter. I told myself "If he throws you down on the mat like the wrestlers on TV, you're not going to move a muscle." I'd let him think he had seriously hurt me, even if he hadn't. The teacher told him to put me down gently.
At the end of the match, every muscle I had screamed in agony. I was completely whooped. I figured he had won decidedly. The teacher upped my grade to an "A". It wasn't until the next day that I had discovered that I had beaten him on points.
I toyed with going out for the wrestling team all through High School, but the wrestling uniforms that they wore turned me off. They almost looked like girl's one piece bathing suits.