One Cold Day

October 19, 2017
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My mom plows through the cold, crunchy snow, as everyone calls out to the crazy wrestling mom. The doors creak open when being pulled and slam hard against the frozen posts. My step-dad finding a cold soda among the tightly packed halls. The allstate banner is down every hall we turn to, and every hall we pass.


Chills rush down my spine. I see the 20 mats lined up perfectly inside the red track. Every mat swarming with girls wearing different colors. The air is cool as if the sun were just beginning to set.


My bracket read five matches in the upper weight class. My warm heart froze as I saw the six-person bracket and my match rushed first.


The mat was cold at first touch, with my naked hands. The mat squashed beneath my light feet, I could feel the excess sweat left behind by previous wrestlers.


My first few matches came easy. My speed came handy to win. I was already two wins and zero losses. I was doing pretty well, I didn’t get tired and I stuck to my toes.


The bracket was reading the same for the top girl in this weight class. I didn’t interpret this very well, so I had requested some advice. This girl named Melissa overheard me asking for help, and offered to teach me some easy, efficient moves.


I was left with three matches to go. The next two matches were long and slow. My nerves were climbing as the final match approached. My opponent was doing the same. The faster the time raced the more I worried. This could be my time to shine and receive my very first first place.


The time has come. The state championship. Sweat rolled down my cheeks, my heart grew into my throat, and my head was in the game. I told myself I came here to win, but now it’s serious. This is my opportunity to place first. My heart desired to do so and my body told me to win.


Time raced down to the remaining 30 seconds of the match. When I realized I was trailing by only three points, my head began pounding as if someone bashed it rapidly against a concrete wall. In my coach's corner was Les and Melissa. Melissa leading me to use the move she had just recently taught me. The head gazoni.


The whistle blew and I was in base position. I could hear the cheering from the crowd, as everyone wanted to watch the state champions match, my mom was rattling the camera in her nervous hands screaming repeatedly whatever my coaches said. “The head gazoni! The head gazoni!” was all I heard repetitively for the remaining 20 seconds. I sat out quick, the girl dropped her head over my shoulder, I grasped it tight right next to mine and bridged up to roll her onto her back.


I won.


I won the state championship. I beat the previous three-year state championship holder, and I was even underweight. My smile grew brighter than the sun as my reward was placed around my narrow neck.






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