Un-welcome mat: Practice simply the pits for ex-wrestler

By TIM BADLEY
For the Traveler

Coach Wayne Jackson started practice by announcing my wrestling career synopsis: “When Tim started organized wrestling, he had his work cut out for him, “or words to that effect.

Coach Jackson talked with absolute seriousness. Tim wrestled hard, however, and became a state champion by his senior year.

Coach Jackson then turned the floor over to me. When I spoke, all eyes in the group first went to the state placers board for reference and then refocused back to me. I spoke with the wrestlers about how wrestling skills translate into life skills. It was difficult because it had been nine years since I last wrestled.

After my speech, we wrestled full speed on the mat. Coach Jackson and assistant Mark Richardson stood along the wall and shouted encouragement — like “nice takedown, “and “You gotta follow through with your shot. “

They also knew how out-of-shape older wrestlers can be. I could tell they shared a giggle when I first went on the mat.

I squared off against Mark Scram. I was so excited to wrestle that I must have appeared like some deranged racehorse zig-zagging full speed out of the gates. I made wild escape attempts from the bottom and used energy-expending riding procedures on top.

After only one minute of full speed wrestling, (only 1/6th of an actual wrestling match) I started to feel power failures and shutdowns of vital organs in my body. Once we finished, I dragged myself towards the wall and gasped desperately for breath.

While listless on the floor, I compared the new wrestling room to the old one in which I wrestled.

The new room is larger in all three dimensions, which is cool in many respects. However, the state placers’ board is no longer the center of attention. In the old wrestling room it lingered over you every time you threw a great lateral drop on Nathan Bennett or were squeezed into a cradle by Dirk Foust.

The wrestlers still hold the board with high esteem; however, now the board seems to have a smaller presence like it’s observing from the corner of the room.

As I pondered this, senior Nick McGrew asked sarcastically if I was out of shape. I tried to respond, but even after 10 minutes I was still worried that I was going to choke on my own breath.

I also wondered if I heard him correctly because my pulse thumped loudly in my ears like some deafening bass from a car stereo.

My second full-speed wrestling epic came 15 minutes later after an oxygen tank and a gallon of water. (I was reminded of the oxygenating properties of water that I had not remembered since high school.)

I wrestled the agile heavyweight, Kyle Morrow. I had one good takedown and then my legs took a vacation, perhaps to Tahiti or Fiji, which are both nice this time of year. I spent the last minute showing Kyle the pointers of how to put me into a cradle.

At the end of practice, I felt I could at least get a few laps in with the wrestlers, but I went too slowly to keep up. They burned down the corridors while I jogged at a medium pace.

By my last lap, the whole team and both coaches had retired to the locker room.

I was thinking about skimping on my last lap when Wayne Jackson’s voice screamed in my head, “Quit slacking, Badley! “I knew I couldn’t quit because I can never reason with a voice in my head.

The maintenance of tradition is more than names on a board. Great educators maintain tradition. That is especially apparent when their voices get stuck in your head even after nine years since your last practice.