This is my son's second year wrestling for the middle school and even his sisters have pretty much grown accustomed to all the hollering and cris-crossing of bendy parts, hoping their baby brother does NOT break a limb, or something.
Not on their watch, anyway.
"THROW HIM DOWN!!!!"
I, however, have become much better at watching some other kid beat the living Axe out of my almost 13-year-old son.
Because, he hasn't wrestled anyone yet.
His team had a lot of kids move onto the high school and — taking into consideration that he's nearly as tall as I am — it seems there just aren't as many kids wrestling in my son's weight class, this year.
On the one hand, GREAT! There will be NO bloody noses or broken body parts, tonight!
"Maybe next week, bud."
Still, it must be just as frustrating for him to sit and stare at some other guy's backside — wearing a singlet, no less.
[cue mental etch-a-sketch]
Until, last night.
"THOMPSON!"
Here we go. I laced my fingers in front of my eyes. No, wait, that was so last year.
"C'MON!"
The kid was a lot shorter. However, in width, he was twice the size of my son.
"GET UP OFF THE MAT, GLEN!"
Try as he might, the boy spent the next 3 minutes breathing through one nostril and his face was purple by the time the match was blessedly called to an end.
"He was a real tough one…eh?"
[frowning]
"No! He stunk!"
I was trying to come up with something else that would help reassure my son that, you know, maybe…
"Literally, I took one whiff of him and I was DONE!"
…next time, he should spray himself with a little Axe before each match or, better yet, wipe a little Vicks under his nose like some medical examinders do, or something.
Then again, perhaps his opponent was just using body odor as diversionary tactic, no?
Don't even get me started on cauliflower ear, ring worm and the bazillion other skin infections floating around out there…ICK!
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