I've mentioned that Mr. T has begun wrestling. The kid loves it. I mean loves it. Last night was his first match. It was also my first match because I've never seen one live (despite demure and tame liasons with a few wrestlers back in the day--as I explained to Mr. D, I was in Forensics all through high school and had meets on Saturdays while the wrestlers were competing. And I had no interest. And basketball was cooler. Anyway...) I ran into many people I knew. Wrestling begets a tight-knit clan of fans, but I suspect the egos don't grow as big as they might on basketball courts due to the individual nature of this sport. Money doesn't buy you a spot on a wrestling team--your weight, strength and endurance aren't commodities for sale. I remember boys from every sort of background wrestling--basketball, conversely, has become an expensive sport between requisite tournament teams and camps, a sport increasingly reserved for more affluent and resourceful families. Mr. T lacks skill and training but these things can be learned on a mat in a very hot and smelly room above our high school's gymnasium.
His first match (I think that's what they're called--I have much to learn if he stays with this sport) resulted in him pinned on his back pretty quickly. I think he was stunned and overwhelmed and he got in a bad position just a couple seconds after the referee blew the whistle.
Go, Mr. T! Don't let him get you on your back!
The third match lasted less than 3 minutes, but Mr. T put up a good fight. He has much to learn but didn't leave that gym discouraged. He still loves wrestling, even if he doesn't love the singlet (which, his younger brothers have observed, make him look like a "sexy man").
And speaking of his younger brothers, last night they stood beside me watching all of this unfold enthralled. "When will I be old enough to wrestle?" "When I'm big like Mr. T, I'm going to be in wrestling, too."
It strikes me as odd that a kid as lazy as my firstborn would be drawn to the most physically demanding sport out there. It would be less effort to stand out in right field on a sunny day in a grassy field and wait for the occasional ball to drop from the sky. But he has declared his undying devotion to wrestling for now and in a show of support I shall find a copy of Wrestling For Dummies so I can get behind him with a more extensive vocabulary.
Here is another gratuitous photo of my second born son, Mr. B, playing basketball. I do like basketball and don't think it's all snobbery and cliquery. I'm much better cheering for it, too, because I know what I'm talking about.
Get your hands up, Mr. B! Rebound! Rebound!
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