The Rest of Your Life
I felt it pop, and the sting pain consumed my shoulder like bees just having their hive disturbed. Knowing what the pain meant made me angry, but it didn't help things to get mad. There was nothing I could do but try to recover in time to start over. Giving up wasn't an option.
My first wrestling practice for the new season was horrible. The head gear straps made my head raw and I got my butt kicked. However, as our season went on I’d learned a lot, and I got stronger and faster. I found that there were some moves that wouldn't work on me, because my shoulders were very flexible. This is great advantage, because some kids were afraid that they were tearing up my shoulders, so, they wouldn't use some of the techniques that they regularly would have with other wresters.
I got my weight certified just before Thanksgiving. We were practicing twice a day, once at 6 AM and again after school. Finally, it was time for our team to travel to Bozeman, for their invitational tournament. The day was dark and ominous as “the whiteness seeped up the sky” (Wolff 9). I “paced the sidewalk” (Wolff 9) while waiting for the bus outside of our high school, I was nervous, because my opponent was ranked #1 in the state. To make matters worse, the bus ride to Bozeman was horrible. I hadn’t eaten anything so that I could make sure that I would make weight and the bus was freezing, I’m sure “the heater didn’t work.” (Wolff 10)
My coach overheard my conversation. He leaned over the seat and said to me, “you haven’t done anything but complain” (Wolff 10). Maybe you should “tune in on that energy” (Wolff 11) for your upcoming matches.
I made weight easily, and soon enough, it was time for my first match. As I walked out on the mat and put the ankle band on, everything was like slow motion, which soon changed. When the whistle blew, we started circling each other, still in slow motion; then, he shot in, and I sprawled to counter and...