Wrestling with a dream
By Jenni Carlson
The Oklahoman
The pats on the back are particularly difficult for Ray Kawasaki when he loses.
After the McAlester High School wrestler wins, the pats are no problem. He will soak in the praise like any other teen-ager. He will bask in the glow like any other athlete.
After losses, though, Kawasaki will nod or smile or say thanks.
Then he will brood.
“I got my butt kicked, “he will think. “That’s not a good job.”
Others are impressed merely by his effort, by his being on the mat, by his willingness to try. He isn’t so easily impressed.
“Everything I’ve done in my life has been extraordinary to other people, “Kawasaki said. “I think of myself as no different than any other wrestler.”
In many ways, Kawasaki is no different. He practices and drills. He works his moves and perfects his skills. He dreams of qualifying for state at 103 pounds in the regional tournament next weekend.
Only Kawasaki’s body is different. He was born without legs, with only three fingers on his right hand and one on his left. He is completely deaf in his left ear and partially deaf in his right.
The National Federation of State High School Associations does not keep statistics on disabled athletes competing in high school varsity sports, but federation officials recall only a handful of amputees. A basketball player with only part of her hand. A few football players. A few wrestlers.
Kawasaki is a rarity.
That, however, isn’t how he sees himself.
“Wrestling is my sport, “Kawasaki said. “Other sports like football and baseball, I’m usually a trainer. It’s the only sport I can participate in.”
“I see myself as a wrestler.”
Tough love
Nancy Broseghini is no stranger to physical disabilities.
Born to deaf parents, she only had partial hearing as well as a club foot,which required numerous surgeries, orthopedic shoes and leg braces. Doctors eventually amputated part of her right leg.
But when Broseghini gave birth to her first child, she couldn’t help being shocked.
“He was totally messed up, “she said.
Doctors urged Broseghini to send baby Ray to an institution.
They told her, “He’s not going to make it.”
She told them, “He’s not going to make it if you put him in an institution.”
Broseghini not only raised Kawasaki but taught him to fend for himself. She wouldn’t let him feel sorry for himself or allow him to take advantage of his physical disadvantages.
“Mom, “he would say, “I can’t get…”
She wouldn’t let him finish.
“You crawl over there and get it yourself, “she would say. “I’m not going to get it for you.”
It was tough, but it was love.
Kawasaki learned karate and gymnastics growing up in Colorado but never participated in contact sports. In addition to missing appendages, he also suffered from a rare blood disorder. A fall on the playground or bump on the head would send him to the hospital. He might even be in a coma for several days.
Then came a summer trip to visit family in Oklahoma. Kawasaki was swimming at the municipal pool, his mom watching from the car. He walked onto the diving board, lost his balance and fell onto the cement a few feet below.
Broseghini dashed to the pool, expecting the worst.
Kawasaki met her instead.
“Mom, ” he said, running toward her, “I’m fine.”
A precautionary trip to the emergency room confirmed as much. Kawasaki was unharmed. Doctors eventually determined that Oklahoma’s lower altitude and oxygen- rich air made him less susceptible to injury, but Broseghini didn’t need a medical explanation.
“I went back home, packed up and moved here, “she said.
Tackling sports
After moving to McAlester, Kawasaki decided to try all the sports that were too dangerous in Colorado.
Football. Baseball. Soccer.
Then in seventh grade, he joined the wrestling team. The sport wasn’t easy for Kawasaki because a majority of the moves are leg-based.
“I was frustrated my whole seventh grade year, “he said. “But after I got the hang of it and I adjusted on upper-body moves, I was rolling.”
As he adapted the techniques that worked best for him — Kawasaki only uses about five moves — he began to excel. Folks in McAlester have even named a move after him. The Kawasaki spin is a modified Peterson.
“He basically pivots on his stumps where most kids would have to come to their feet and make a lot of other maneuvers, “said Brent Grilliot, one of Kawasaki’s junior high coaches. “That’s something that he’s definitely used to his advantage.”
That isn’t the only advantage Kawasaki has over other wrestlers in the lower weights. His upper body strength is practically unmatched, his height makes shooting on an opponent’s legs easier and his body type is difficult for
opponents to figure.
But Kawasaki has his disadvantages, too.
“He loves to do cradles, “McAlester coach Roger White said, “but you’re really got to have a good grip to do cradles. And he just doesn’t have enough fingers there to get a good grip.
“That’s a shame.”
A shame because Kawasaki, whose record is hovering around .500, puts plenty of guys on their back.
“He just has to hold them with pure strength, “White said. “When they kick out, his arms are no match for their legs. Their legs will win out.”
The same can be said when an opponent turns Kawasaki on his back.
“Whenever I’m on my back, I’m mostly stuck, “he said. “I have no legs to suspend myself off the mat.
“I just kind of fight.”
All heart
“I’ve had people make fun of me. I’ve had people put me down, “Kawasaki said. “But I never let them get to me.”
Broseghini said, “He doesn’t care if he’s short. He’s still Ray. He’s still
got a heart.”
And in his heart, Kawasaki wants to qualify for state this season. He
finished sixth at regionals last season — the top four finishers advance to
state — but the regional champion defeated him by only two points.
“I’m just like anybody else, “Kawasaki said. “I’ve got to improve on my
moves. I’ve got to practice harder.
“Same story as everybody else.”
Hardly.
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