FOR THE LOVE

by T. Poland

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    Darkness encompasses the boy’s room, except for the illuminated numbers on his alarm clock.  The numbers show 3:59 and then flash to 4:00.  BEEP, BEEP, BEEP!  The boy stirs and opens his eyes, but he is still in a state of sleep.  BEEP, BEEP, BEEP!  “Oh heck, is it time to get up already,” he thinks to himself.  Leaning over to the night stand he presses the alarm-off button on the clock.  Then in one motion, he throws back the covers, swings his legs out, and stands up.       Unsteadily he moves across the room and flips the light switch.  Instantly his eyes close and he rubs them with his hands in an attempt to chase the sleepiness away.  Something inside him says to shut the light off and go back to bed, but an even more powerful force directs his eyes to open.  It is Saturday, there is a wrestling tournament in Killeen today and he has got to get ready.  As he forces his eyes open, he turns the handle on the door and exits his room into the hallway. 

 

    Bouncing off the hallway walls twice, he makes his way to the bathroom to get ready.  Just before he enters he hears his father whispering from the master bedroom.  “I’m up son.  Be quiet, mom is still asleep.  We leave in 15 minutes.”  He quickly runs through his morning rituals, except for a shower, which he took just seven hours earlier before going to bed.  His bathroom tasks complete he glides back to his room, more awake and with a little more purpose in his step.      For the first time his mind flickers with thoughts of the competition that lies ahead.  He thinks, “I should weigh in around 200 pounds.  I wonder who will be there?  I hope I can get in at least four good matches.  I think I have a shot of bringing home the gold medal there.” 

 

    He jumps into his shorts and one of his 25 wrestling tournament shirts and his favorite athletic shoes.  After one last look into his bag to make sure he packed everything the night before, he zips it up, slings it over his shoulder and heads to the living room to wait for his father. 

 

    Already in the kitchen packing the cooler, his father says he is almost ready.  In goes the drinks, fruit, sandwiches and other items that will sustain them for the day.  The boy knows his mom meticulously and lovingly prepared the goodies the night before, since she is not making today’s trip.   

 

    The boy’s mom has also wrote notes saying what to take and where it is.  She knows the boy and his father would have just tossed in what ever they could find, if she had left it to them.  There are notes about the food and drinks, the camera, the catchall bag, and one reminding the boy to brush his teeth.  His dad asks if he brushed his teeth and the boy flashes a toothy smile and says, “You know it dad.  Want to smell my breath.”  The dad just smiles back.

 

    His father is ready now, so they head toward the door, where one more super note is taped next to the door handle.  It’s not really a note but a checklist to make sure they have not missed anything.  It reads: Cooler?  And Food and Drinks?  All wrestling gear?  Including headgear?  Make sure you wear it.  Cell phone?  Money?  Son, did you brush your teeth?  I don’t want you to win because the other kids pass out from the smell!  Get it done son!  Love mom.

 

    Out the door and to the car they both quickly rush.  In the trunk go the cooler and bags; they have to make room for the other guys who are traveling with them. The boy says, “Wait a minute dad, I forgot my pillow.  He runs back in the house and returns in a flash.  It is 4:20 and they need to meet at the church at 4:30 with the boy’s teammates and their parents.

 

    In the car they go.  The father starts the car and off down the street they head.  No one and nothing is stirring on their street, except a black cat that darts across the road.  The boy thinks, “I hope that isn’t an omen.

 

    Arriving at the church parking lot they see several cars.  They let the head coach know they are there.  The boy talks to his friends, while his father and the other parents talk with the coaches.  They are still missing three wrestlers.  The coaches and parents start calling on their cell phones and reach the wrestlers’ parents and learn they are running late, but are on the way.  One by one, three more cars arrive and pull into the lot.  Now all the kids going on today’s trip are there.  It is  4:50 and they are now 15 minutes behind schedule.  By the time everyone gets in their vehicles and they pull away, they are 20 minutes late.   

 

    The boy and his father are taking along two of his buddies.  As the car moves along the streets to the freeway, the boys and the man talk for a few minutes.  They discuss what weights the boys think they will be at and who might be at the tournament.  They agree that though it won’t be a big tournament there should be some good competition there.  

 

    Suddenly the boy tells the father his choice of radio stations sucks and suggests he turn the radio on to a station that plays some more contemporary music.  “Dad,” he says, “the 80s are over.”  His father smiles to himself and remembers the days, he told his dad that music from the 50s sucked.  He changes the channel to the station the boys want and they settle into their pillows.  Ten minutes later, as the car enters the freeway heading north, the boys are all asleep and the dad turns the radio back to the “oldies” station. “What do teenagers know about good music,” he muses.

 

    It is now 5:05.  The drive from San Antonio to Killeen takes about two and one-half hours, but the road is wet and rain keeps coming down.  The convoy carrying the team moves through the traffic.  More cars are starting to appear on the road as the city stirs to life.  If things go right they should be there at 7:35.  Weigh-ins run from 7:30 to 9:00, so they have plenty of time.

 

    Listening to the radio and the boys’ snores, the father drives on.  His mind wanders from the weather, to the drive, to the tournament.  He thinks to himself; “It won’t be light for two more hours and the traffic is getting heavier.  Wish this darn rain would stop.  With all the cars starting to intersperse with the semi-tractors hauling their loads, the drive is starting to be a little hairy.  I hope the boy gets some good matches today.  He can’t get to the next level this fall without competition now.”

 

    The trip drags on, as the dad travels in silence.  Some of the cars in their group have been left behind or pulled ahead.  The boys might as well have not been with him as they certainly have not helped him stay alert.  He pulls off the highway and heads to a convenience store.  Time for some coffee and a break.  The dad sees parents of some other kids on the team have already stopped at the store.  One father is getting gas, while other wrestlers and parents are in the store.  As the father stops the car, his son and one of the other boys come alive.  “You guys need to use the restroom,” the father asks.  They nod and dismount the car with the man, as their buddy keeps on snoring.   

 

    Their pit stop complete, the team and families that are still together get back in their vehicles. More awake and with a cup of coffee to sip on, the father starts the car, turns the radio to a hip hop channel and starts back out to the freeway.  The boys settle in and quickly fall back asleep.  The father thinks to himself, “What frequency is that oldies station out of Austin?”  Then he changes the channel again and sips some of his coffee.  A familiar tune comes on and he sings to himself and remembers, “When this song was a hit, I was in high school.  Those were the days.”

 

    More traffic has entered the road and the rain has kept coming down causing the drive to take longer than expected.  It is now 7:30 and they are just turning off the freeway to head down the state road to Killeen.  The boys start stirring and one of them asks where they are.  The father tells them and says not to worry as they will make it to the wrestling site by 8:00.  The sun is up now, but it is still not very light because of the clouds.  The boys start talking again about who they may be wrestling as the son reaches over and changes the radio to a new station.

 

    At 8:04 they pull into the Killeen Community Center and see a lot of other kids and parents heading inside.  The dad parks the car, gets out and opens the trunk.  The boys grab their bags and hurry to the front door to get out of the rain, while the father is stuck with the cooler, camera bag, catchall bag, and a half full cup of cold coffee. 

 

    Inside the boys change to their singlets, pay their money, and go into the weigh in room.  They see several of their teammates and their competition.  The kids strike up conversations with different people as they move along in line.  A kid the boy recognizes from another team in San Antonio approaches him and says he weighs 195.  The boy replies, “I should be about 200, I guess we will be wrestling each other.  I’m only wrestling freestyle today.  Who else is here?”  The other boy replies, “I saw a guy who got 5^th place at regionals who should be about our weight.  I’m only wrestling freestyle too.”

 

    Sure enough, when the brackets are posted the three boys are in the same weight class.  Unfortunately for them, there is only one heavyweight and he has been grouped with them.  And he isn’t just any heavyweight, he is the state runner up.  With 240 pounds of power and ferocity, he is called “The Gorilla” for a reason.  The boy thinks to himself, “At least I don’t have to wrestle him until last.  Maybe I can beat the other two guys and get second even if I end up in the hospital.”

 

    It is 10:00 now and the tournament director calls the kids to the mats.  They range in size from 40 pound midgets all the way up to “The Gorilla.”  The little kids jostle for positions on the mats, while the older kids sit and talk to friends.  The tournament director says the usual thanks for being here and then introduces the head referee who runs over some rules.  The smaller kids start getting anxious and fidget about.  In the stands the parents are getting anxious also, as they wonder aloud, “When is this thing going to get started.”

 

    Eventually the head ref finishes and the mats are cleared.  The first matches are called up and the greco portion of the tournament begins.  The father looks at his watch and sees it is now 10:30.  His son comes up, sets beside him and takes a gatorade and powerbar out of the cooler.  They and the other parents and kids, who are not wrestling, sit in the stands and watch the matches.  The noise from the crowd goes from conversation to cheers and back to conversation as matches begin and end.

 

    Soon the greco wrestling is over and the boy can start getting ready for his first match.  It just turned noon, he has been up for 8 hours already and he will finally get to wrestle in the next half hour.  He faces the guy who finished 5^th at regionals first.  “The Gorilla” caught the other guy during greco and pinned him in 20 seconds with a head and arm.  He thinks to himself, “Maybe I can catch him in a head and arm too.

 

    The boy goes down to warm up and his father tells him good luck as he takes the video camera out of the bag.  When the boy’s match comes up the father moves to a location closer to the mat to film.  The boy wrestles well, but in the end the other kid wins by 2 points.  Not a bad result for the boy considering this is only his second year of wrestling, while the other kid is a transfer from Iowa where he wrestled since age 8.  Happy with his performance, but not his loss, the boy sets his sights on the next match where he faces the other San Antonio boy.  He can still beat him and get third. 

 

    35 minutes later his match is up.  He goes to the mat with confidence as he has beaten his opponent all five times they have wrestled.  The match starts out good with him getting a quick takedown and points for back exposure.  He stays ahead all through the first period.  The second period starts out the same way and he is up by 8 points with a minute to go.  One more take down and back exposure and he will tech his opponent. 

 

    Back on their feet and in the center of the mat now, the boy confidently jockeys for position.  Just when he thinks he is ready, he shoots in, but he is to slow and the other kid drives him to the mat, knocking some of the wind out of him and bumping his head.  Then the other kid quickly spins in behind the boy, pinning his right arm to his back.  While he is stunned and trying to catch his breath the other kid next flips him to his back and presses him to the mat.  The whistle blows and the match ends.  The wrestlers and ref go through the match ending routine and the boy walks off with his head down, while his opponent hugs his team’s coach.  At the edge of the mat the boy’s coach tries to consul him and give him some pointers, but though the boy looks up and pretends to listen, he doesn’t really hear anything the coach says.

 

    He puts his sweats back on and heads to the stands.  As he approaches, his father tells him, “Good job son, you’ll get him next time.”  The boy can only look away and try not to let his father see the sadness on his face.  But it is to late, as his father saw the disappointment through the camera lens as he filmed the match.  The father puts his hand on his son’s shoulder but doesn’t say anything else.

 

    A little while later the boy again heads down to the mat to prepare for his last match.  The father says good luck as always and gets into position to film.  The boy gets the last bit of advice from his coach and steps onto the mat.  At first what his coach told him seems to be working, but just as quickly as he thinks he is in the match, it is over.  “The Gorilla” catches him in his famed head and arm, like he has done to over one hundred opponents before and the boy is staring at the lights as the whistle blows.

 

    When he gets back to the stands this time he says, “Maybe I should stop wrestling dad.  I’m wasting our time and your money.”  Again the father puts his hand on his son’s shoulder, squeezes it and looks into his eyes.  They communicate more in that moment than they have all day.

 

    It has been a long tough day that isn’t over yet.  It is 3:00 p.m. now and they have a long trip back home.  Since his match was the last one of the day, they quickly pack everything back in the car and head toward San Antonio.  This time there is no convoy because kids and their parents left when their matches got over.  The trip starts out in silence, as the boy sits quietly and his father concentrates on driving.  His friends don’t say anything either as they have won their brackets and don’t want to make their buddy feel bad.  Even with the rain and heavy traffic the trip home is a lot less strain on the father because it is daylight and he is more awake.  The boys drift in and out of sleep or sit quietly.  The father leaves the radio on the hip hop station, even though he can’t stand it.  He wants to give his son some solace and this is the only way he can right now.

 

    Eventually the boy says something to one of his friends about school.  Then they start talking a little more.  Eventually the other boy joins in and so does the father.  The conversation goes from this to that, then finally comes back to wrestling.  Slowly they discuss the days matches and even the boy is able to talk about his losses.  The discussion arrives at his match with “The Gorilla,” and he is even able to joke about it.  “You know, I thought I had a chance to win, but then the match started,” he says.  They all laugh, then the boy reaches over and changes the radio to the oldies station.  “Its your turn dad, but don’t think we’re going to listen to it all the way home,” he says with a smile.