Blood, Sweat and Tears
http://www.atomicsportsmedia.com/articles/485/1/Blood-Sweat-and-Tears.html
Steven Michalovich
Steven Michalovich has been writing for Atomic Sports Media since February 2006 and is a senior at The Ohio state University.Michalovich will graduate in June 2007 with a degree in strategic communication and a minor in business. He is a huge Ohio State, Cleveland sports and Columbus Blue Jackets fan, and his ideal career would be to work in public relations and marketing for a major sports franchise.
By Steven Michalovich
Published on 06/26/2006
Steven Michalovich recalls his high school wrestling days -- from grueling practices to thrilling matches -- as part of Atomic Sports' "Greatest Sports Memory" series.
It’s a Friday afternoon in mid-January. It’s cold and gloomy outside. It’s the end of the day, and while all of my classmates are rushing off to their lazy, party-filled weekends, I’m heading to the wrestling room. My head is still pounding from last night’s dual meet, and every muscle in my body aches. My diet has consisted of water and crackers the past three days, and yet I have to find the energy to get through a two-and-a-half hour practice.
The session starts with 30 minutes of hard running. This is the easiest task to the practice. Thirty minutes of intensive conditioning follow. Push-ups, crunches, jumping jacks, monkey rolls; you name it, it’s been done in this room. After that, the coach tells us that we are going “live.” For next hour, I’ll be wrestling as hard as I can, trying moves that I typically wouldn’t attempt.
After a take down, I’m expected to pop right back up, ready for more. Shots, sprawls, spins, sit-outs, stand-ups, pinning combinations, picks, half nelsons, leg riding, cradles and every other little flinch or change in position that can decide a single match. We end the practice with some more conditioning, this time more intense, cooperative and supportive. I can hardly see straight and my shirt is soaked, but I keep going. The team has an all-day tournament tomorrow, and they need everyone to wrestle their hardest.
Wrestling is an intense battle of two strong, devoted, athletic, aggressive, persistent grapplers who won’t stop until the referee’s hand slaps the mat. Those few minutes on the mat require an immense amount of dedication, preparation, practice and sacrifice for for just a few minutes on the mat. But those minutes on the mat are some of the most extreme in a wrestler’s life.
I have many memories from the sport that was a huge part of my life for more than six years, and there are a few that stick out in my mind very vividly.
Sophomore year in high school, my first year on varsity, we were wrestling against our most-hated rival. I had wrestled my opponent before in a scrimmage, and I knew he could beat me. The team score was close as it came to my match. My family and friends were in the stands cheering me on. The match began, and before I knew it I was down in the match 4-2. At the start of the second period, I took the down position with my opponent behind me. My coach was screaming my name. When the whistle blew, I made a move that I couldn’t even explain if I tried. Without a moment’s hesitation, I had somehow turned the kid on his back.
Smack!
The sound made me look up. I had just beaten this kid, and the gymnasium was going crazy. The whole event is a blur, but I had won the meet against our foes for my team.
Junior year, I found myself trailing in a tight 2-1 bout. The winner of the match would qualify for the district tournament. We were on our feet in the third and final period. My coach looked at me sternly and asked, “Do you want to go to districts or not?”
The match began. The kid was quick, but I was quicker. He came in for a shot on my legs. Defending the shot had become my best offense as my skills developed, and this match proved why. As he came in, I shot my arm underneath his armpits and launched him the opposite way, dragging him to the floor. I squeezed like I was squeezing the life out of him. The whistle blew, and the ref tapped the mat. I looked up to see my coaches jumping up and down and my teammates losing it behind them. I shocked everyone by qualifying for districts. After the match, my dad rushed down to me and kissed me on the head and told me he loved me.
Senior year, I was in another tight match during the sectional tournament. The kid had beaten me twice in our careers, but every bout was close. In the second period, we were on our feet and were pacing around each other. He came in for a shot, but I was quickly able to counter, and I slammed him on his back. My arms squeezed around his upper body as he squirmed off of his back. Every time I thought I had him pinned, he lifted his shoulder.
Buzz!
The period was over. I didn’t get the pin, but I had a one-point lead. All I needed to do was hold on in the third period, and I would beat him. It was easier said than done.
Both of us were exhausted as the final two minutes of the period began. We staggered around, occasionally prying at each other. Then, I tried to take him off guard and come in for a shot on his right leg. He sprawled out, and I found myself holding on to his leg with all my remaining energy while he was over top of me. If I held on to his leg, I would win the match, but if he gets loose and around me, he wins.
Twenty seconds left. I knew that it was loud, but it seemed silent to me. My hands let go of each other and he spun around behind me as the period ended. The referee had two fingers in the air. I lost in the final seconds of the match.
I slowly stood up. My coaches hugged me and told me how proud they were of me. Again, my father rushed down from the stands and told me he loved me. I walked off of the mat alone and crouched in a corner of the gymnasium. Tears began rolling down my face, and I didn’t move from that spot for almost an hour.
I was the captain of my wrestling team, and I wasn’t going to join them at the district tournament. My wrestling career was over.
Wrestling is like any other sport -- it produces many highs and many lows. The highs are filled with intense feelings and the competition gives you such a rush. Wrestling made me a better person, and I could’ve never gotten through it without the support of my family, friends, teammates and coaches. I will remember memories such as these as I continue on into my life as some of the best of my life.
 |
Steven Michalovich recalls his high school wrestling days -- from grueling practices to thrilling matches -- as part of Atomic Sports' "Greatest Sports Memory" series.
|
It’s a Friday afternoon in mid-January. It’s cold and gloomy outside. It’s the end of the day, and while all of my classmates are rushing off to their lazy, party-filled weekends, I’m heading to the wrestling room. My head is still pounding from last night’s dual meet, and every muscle in my body aches. My diet has consisted of water and crackers the past three days, and yet I have to find the energy to get through a two-and-a-half hour practice.
The session starts with 30 minutes of hard running. This is the easiest task to the practice. Thirty minutes of intensive conditioning follow. Push-ups, crunches, jumping jacks, monkey rolls; you name it, it’s been done in this room. After that, the coach tells us that we are going “live.” For next hour, I’ll be wrestling as hard as I can, trying moves that I typically wouldn’t attempt.
After a take down, I’m expected to pop right back up, ready for more. Shots, sprawls, spins, sit-outs, stand-ups, pinning combinations, picks, half nelsons, leg riding, cradles and every other little flinch or change in position that can decide a single match. We end the practice with some more conditioning, this time more intense, cooperative and supportive. I can hardly see straight and my shirt is soaked, but I keep going. The team has an all-day tournament tomorrow, and they need everyone to wrestle their hardest.
Wrestling is an intense battle of two strong, devoted, athletic, aggressive, persistent grapplers who won’t stop until the referee’s hand slaps the mat. Those few minutes on the mat require an immense amount of dedication, preparation, practice and sacrifice for for just a few minutes on the mat. But those minutes on the mat are some of the most extreme in a wrestler’s life.
I have many memories from the sport that was a huge part of my life for more than six years, and there are a few that stick out in my mind very vividly.
Sophomore year in high school, my first year on varsity, we were wrestling against our most-hated rival. I had wrestled my opponent before in a scrimmage, and I knew he could beat me. The team score was close as it came to my match. My family and friends were in the stands cheering me on. The match began, and before I knew it I was down in the match 4-2. At the start of the second period, I took the down position with my opponent behind me. My coach was screaming my name. When the whistle blew, I made a move that I couldn’t even explain if I tried. Without a moment’s hesitation, I had somehow turned the kid on his back.
Smack!
The sound made me look up. I had just beaten this kid, and the gymnasium was going crazy. The whole event is a blur, but I had won the meet against our foes for my team.
Junior year, I found myself trailing in a tight 2-1 bout. The winner of the match would qualify for the district tournament. We were on our feet in the third and final period. My coach looked at me sternly and asked, “Do you want to go to districts or not?”
The match began. The kid was quick, but I was quicker. He came in for a shot on my legs. Defending the shot had become my best offense as my skills developed, and this match proved why. As he came in, I shot my arm underneath his armpits and launched him the opposite way, dragging him to the floor. I squeezed like I was squeezing the life out of him. The whistle blew, and the ref tapped the mat. I looked up to see my coaches jumping up and down and my teammates losing it behind them. I shocked everyone by qualifying for districts. After the match, my dad rushed down to me and kissed me on the head and told me he loved me.
Senior year, I was in another tight match during the sectional tournament. The kid had beaten me twice in our careers, but every bout was close. In the second period, we were on our feet and were pacing around each other. He came in for a shot, but I was quickly able to counter, and I slammed him on his back. My arms squeezed around his upper body as he squirmed off of his back. Every time I thought I had him pinned, he lifted his shoulder.
Buzz!
The period was over. I didn’t get the pin, but I had a one-point lead. All I needed to do was hold on in the third period, and I would beat him. It was easier said than done.
Both of us were exhausted as the final two minutes of the period began. We staggered around, occasionally prying at each other. Then, I tried to take him off guard and come in for a shot on his right leg. He sprawled out, and I found myself holding on to his leg with all my remaining energy while he was over top of me. If I held on to his leg, I would win the match, but if he gets loose and around me, he wins.
Twenty seconds left. I knew that it was loud, but it seemed silent to me. My hands let go of each other and he spun around behind me as the period ended. The referee had two fingers in the air. I lost in the final seconds of the match.
I slowly stood up. My coaches hugged me and told me how proud they were of me. Again, my father rushed down from the stands and told me he loved me. I walked off of the mat alone and crouched in a corner of the gymnasium. Tears began rolling down my face, and I didn’t move from that spot for almost an hour.
I was the captain of my wrestling team, and I wasn’t going to join them at the district tournament. My wrestling career was over.
Wrestling is like any other sport -- it produces many highs and many lows. The highs are filled with intense feelings and the competition gives you such a rush. Wrestling made me a better person, and I could’ve never gotten through it without the support of my family, friends, teammates and coaches. I will remember memories such as these as I continue on into my life as some of the best of my life.