I wrestled Robert Linkous again the day before every match for the next three weeks. Coach kept both us on the team, so to see who would be the first stringer, he had us wrestle for it. I beat Robert Linkous every single time.
I was 3-1 at the end of the first two weeks, having beaten other kids from Radford, Giles and Shawsville. The only loss, a pin at the hands of the eventual State runner-up at Carroll County. Our next two opponents were a home match against Galax and then a match at Blacksburg.
None of us at Christiansburg ever liked the Blacksburg Indians. They were always so smug because they were better than us at football and basketball. We were bound and determined that wrestling would be their Waterloo. Everyone wanted to compete in that match. It was going to be in front of their whole student body.
There turned out to be just one small problem. The home match against Galax was on Wednesday night...during Mutual.
I don't know how it is in other places, but in my ward you did not miss Mutual. I NEVER missed. Not for sickness. Not for death. Not for wrestling. And so, with trepidation, I told Coach that afternoon that I wouldn't be there.
"That's up to you, son," he said. "But you'll have to wrestle second string tomorrow against Blacksburg. Robert will get your spot in both matches."
I looked at Coach with confusion etched all over my pubescent face. "Second string?" I said, voice quivering like Quaking Aspens. "But, but..." My voice trailed off into the vespertine air. "I'm FIRST string!"
Coach shook his head. "Not if you miss tonight's match. There'd be no time to wrestle it off between the two of you before tomorrow. Since he would wrestle first string for us tonight, he'd also be first string tomorrow. I'm sorry, son, but that's the way it is."
Crushed. Crestfallen. Deflated. Defeated. All good words to describe my feelings at that moment, but none came close. I felt like I'd been stabbed in the back. Robert Linkous had had his revenge.
There was never any doubt what I would do that night. Though I felt a duty to wrestle for my school, I felt a stronger call to duty at Mutual. I don't remember what we did. We probably had Toastmasters, then some sort of Scout stuff. It didn't really matter. I was where I knew I was supposed to be, and it made me happy.
The next day, though, when I saw the student body pouring into the gym, I longed to be the starting 112-pounder. I pleaded with Coach to turn me loose, but he was adamant. I'd skipped the match the night before, so I was second string. The fact that Robert had lost to the wrestler from Galax didn't matter. The message was clearly sent and received. I hadn't been loyal to the team and now I had to pay.
When the match finally began, I sat on the bench and scanned the bleachers. Some of these same students had been at Mutual the night before and had told me they were anxious to see me compete. I didn't tell them that I was going to be a bench warmer, and when Robert was called at the 112-pound slot, I sank into my chair and endeavored to hide myself from their wondering gazes.
Robert quickly lost his match by pin, and it angered me to no end. I knew I'd have whipped that kid, a point I proved two weeks later when they came to our gym. That match was over in less than one period as I pinned him with about five seconds left. Tony Davis and his myrmidons were on the front row.
On this day, though, I felt the fury wash over me like a fierce, warm summer's rain. Sitting on the bench was the hardest thing I'd ever done, and watching my weight class fall to an inferior wrestler made it even worse. "Doggone it!" I said under my breath, squeezing my lips together tightly and wrenching my hands.
After a few more matches, I was a fine, well-cooked stew of anger and self-pity. Just as I was dipping into that stew to dish myself out a good, heaping helping, the announcer said that the match was going to pause for a few moments while they gave the second string teams their chance for glory. I looked down the bench at Coach with mouth agape and brows furrowed. He looked back and motioned to the mat, almost challenging me to show him what I had. Finally, here it was. My chance to show Coach what a big mistake he'd made.
A sudden excitement pounded in my chest when they called my name. I strapped on my helmet and nearly ran onto the mat. Shaking the other wrestler's hand, I turned and went back to my spot, anxious for the match to start. Determination and resolve boiled over in my heart like water in a teapot. If ever I was ready, this was the time.
The referee had barely put the whistle into his mouth before I was on that poor kid like stink on a skunk. Though I was just a scrawny 112-pounder, I felt like Thor, God of Thunder. In my mind, my muscles rippled threateningly and I exuded invincibility.
Shooting across the mat, I got a one-legged take down and had him on the mat within 15 seconds. Lying on his back, I took occasion to quickly scan the crowd. The eyes of every student and teacher in the building were on me and it boiled my blood and excited me beyond measure. I felt a sudden rush of adrenaline course through me and I almost felt sorry for the kid on whom I was lying.
Shooting a quick chicken wing, I got a half nelson on him from the opposite side. In what would soon become my signature move, I stacked the kid onto his back, hooked his leg and listened for the referee's hand to slam down on the mat, signaling my victory. To his credit, he kicked and made every effort to loose himself from my grasp, but the kid really had no chance. In what seemed like no time at all, it was mercifully over. I'd pinned him in 58 seconds.
I stood in one bound, reached down and helped him up. I shook his hand and the referee raised mine as I looked over at Coach. He grinned and gave me the thumbs up and I smiled broadly knowing that he wished he'd sent me out during the main match.
I lettered in wrestling that year and even did all right in the District championships. I didn't win, but I didn't get pinned, either. Somewhere along the way, though, wrestling lost its appeal.
When the school year ended, Coach Griffith left for another job. I tried to warm up to the new coach, but it just wasn't the same. The year after that there was another new coach, but I was never able to recapture that zeal for grappling.
Tony Davis beat me up once more and would continue to pick on me throughout my high school career. In fact, one day in Industrial Arts he had one of his bootlicks come up and bump me while I was working on the band saw. If I hadn't been watching what I was doing, it might have cut my finger off.
I hadn't seen "Touchdown" Davis in 25 years when he passed me on one of the roads in town and showed me with one finger how high his IQ is. I haven't seen him since, which is way too soon for me.
The Kylye's, luckily, backed off just a bit. And I mean just a bit. They still made fun of me, but neither of them tried to do anything physical again. Thankfully they moved away from the neighborhood a short time later. They're out there somewhere, though, probably picking on the 112-pound guy in the cube next to theirs.
Robert Linkous never gave me any more trouble. While I would never say that we became friends, he never picked on me again. Years later we'd see each other from time to time at the store or at a game somewhere and he'd say hi. We'd stand and visit for a few minutes and relive the glory days.
It was the first year CHS ever had a wrestling team and we were always quite proud of that fact. Today, they've won 10 State wrestling championships in a row, and I like to think that I helped set the stage for that.
But like the Springsteen song says, those days were gone "in the wink of a young girl's eye." I never got another letter for wrestling, nor did I ever win District, Region or State. But when I look back at it, I'm glad I went to Mutual. Though there were consequences, it was the right thing to do. I'm glad I had to wrestle second string, because now, no matter what else I do or fail to do, I'll always have those 58 seconds.
And the knowledge that at least once in my life, I did what I thought was right.
