Micah has another wrestling tournament tomorrow. You know you really love someone when you spend five hours in a gym that smells like it 100 armpits and is full of teenage guys maxed out on testosterone. Last year (when the baby bro started wrestling), I was really reluctant to go to these matches, or meets, or whatever the appropriate term is. Once, he had to wrestle a g-i-r-l , and I felt like my stomach was going to fall out of my body.
This year, I think I've improved in my wrestling fan skills. I've gone to two tournaments, and I've learned how a wrestler earns points in his match. So, now, when I'm cheering at Micah, or yelling at the refs, I can at least sound half-educated.
Last Saturday he wrestled these burly farm boys, and one of them (a little stinker) started choking Micah. Micah's face was turning blue and me and my mom were screaming at the top of our lungs at the ref. Thankfully, Micah couldn't really hear us, so he wasn't embarrassed. Apparently the ref couldn't hear either.
I'm actually kind of excited for tomorrow. Excited and nervous. Geez, I feel almost as nervous as though I'm wrestling. Ha - but if it were me wrestling, the match would last 20 seconds. I would be on my back, pinned, or running away from my opponent. Not my sport.
Ah, highschool sports. I'm glad to be out of those four years and its abundance of drama and self-absorption, but I do miss certain things. And sports is one of those. For non-athletes, this won't really make sense, but going back to my old highschool's gym to watch Micah wrestle or Abby play volleyball is a nostalgic time.
Just the smell in South's gym (before it smells so bad like armpits) takes me back immediately to when I was wearing my white jersey with the red number #15. The squirmy, anxious feeling I got right before tip-off, the sweaty palms, the jittery legs, the thrill of hearing the crowd. It all comes back.
Unfortunately, Micah won't be at South's gym but McMinnville's tomorrow. Must brace self. Must learn wrestler lingo. Must avoid embarrassing brother.
No comments:
Post a Comment