We all went to Ace's first wrestling match ever last night. Gym bleacher seats are as uncomfortable as ever, regardless of how much padding my backside has these days. Unfortunately Ace didn't get to wrestle as the opposing team didn't have enough kids to wrestle the army that is our middle school team.
I had no clue what to expect as wrestling is a sport that has never, not once, in all my years, ever entered into my radar, so I was going in blind. A series of things struck me immediately after sitting on the nasty bleachers.
The first was seeing all these lanky skinny teenagers in the one piece wrestling suit. What are they called? A unitard? I have no idea and calling it the wrong thing could be an unbelievable offense in Ace's moody teenage days.
The second was a sigh of relief, because when I saw all of these lanky skinny teenagers, I was reassured that my kid was not malnourished and emaciated. They all look like that. Except a few who look much older than the 13 to 14 years. Muscles, lots of muscles. No wonder all the managers of the team are girls. Good for those girls, I say.
The wrestling match was very interesting and I was surprised at how involved I got as it moved along. I could feel my muscles tightening when one of our team stryggled to make the pin and I even ended up cheering them on. Ace called it electricfying when we got home. He might be right. It was a blow out for our team, they won all but one match and that was close.
The award for best entertainment of the whole evening must be given the Referee, with his dramatic hand gestures, throwing himself down on the mat to watch for pins and fouls, his fierce whistle blowing and hand slaps to the mat when the match was won. I was mesmerized by all of this officious drama and barely smothered my chuckles when he called out points in his high pitched voice as he flung his hands in one direction or another.
School Gymnasiums still smell like sweat and lysol.
No comments:
Post a Comment