Chapter 16

When Zach stepped on the scale before practice the day after Christmas he wasn’t surprised that his weight had risen to 175 because he’d eaten so much. Knowing he had to get down to 171 for the tournament, he threw on an extra layer of sweats. That made practice in the Fire House even tougher than usual. The session ended with an extended round robin session. Zach was so hot afterwards that he tore off everything he was wearing except for the gym shorts that were under his sweat pants while Coach Crisfield filled the team in on the next day’s travel schedule.

Forty-five minutes later he walked out of the locker room feeling better about the tournament. A long hot shower and a weigh-out at 170.5 had cheered him up significantly. When he reached the gym lobby he saw Beth Ellicott squatting in front of the trophy case, squinting as if she was trying to read the inscriptions on some of the ancient plaques. She stood up and smiled at Zach when he came closer. He wondered if she’d been waiting for him, and hoped that she had.

“Hi!” she said. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah,” Zach said. “I guess we’ve both been busy, huh?”

“I saw in the paper that you’re 5 and 1,” she said.

“I’m doing alright so far,” Zach said. “That one loss was pretty bad, though. You saw it.”

“Well, I know you’re going to Pennsylvania tomorrow but you’re coming back on Sunday,” she said. “Mark is coming to Kate Harford’s New Year’s Party. I was wondering if you’re coming too.”

“Sunday night?” Zach asked. “Yeah, we’ll be back.”

“You should come,” Beth said. “It’ll be cool. Kate’s little brother’s band is playing. Maybe you can give them some pointers.”

“Are you going?” Zach asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “That’s why I hope you were.”

“Wow,” Zach said. “I’d like that. My band is playing that night but I think they kicked me out,” he said.

“No! You were saying that before but I didn’t think they would!” she said.

“They didn’t exactly kick me out but they’re playing without me all weekend,” Zach said. “Since I’ll be gone. It took two guys to replace me,” he added.

“You must be good,” she said.

“Must be,” he agreed.

“Maybe you can start another band,” she suggested.

“But I’d still have the same problem,” he said. “Wrestling and the band are just too much.”

“You would know,” she said. “I’ve got to go. Talk to Mark about the party, okay?”

“We don’t talk much,” Zach said. “But I’ll figure something out. See you there.”

~~~

That night Zach received a phone call from Bo Herndon. “Zach, I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry about how everything went at practice,” he said. “You know me. I’m just along for the ride. Nobody ever asks me about anything.”

“Thanks Bo,” Zach said. “You don’t have to say that. It’s my own doing. I know you guys can’t sit around waiting for me.”

“Yeah, but it still stinks,” Herndon said. “I’ll miss you if you don’t come back.”

“Maybe we’ll put it all back together after the season,“ Zach said.

“Yeah, who knows,” Herndon answered. “All I know is ’Fire House’ just doesn’t sound right without you.”

~~~

For the long ride to Mt. Carmel, Pennsylvania, Zach was hoping the team would travel in style but that turned out not to be. “We’re doing this trip on low budget,” Crisfield said. Coach Hancock, who worked as a professional cabinetmaker, had emptied out his panel truck before driving to the high school. Both of the coaches, the fourteen varsity wrestlers and all of their luggage and equipment would make the trip in the truck with “Hancock Woodworking” stenciled on the side. There weren’t even any seats in the back. The grumpy wrestlers scrunched up some of the canvas tarps they found and used them in various ways to make themselves as comfortable as possible. Heavyweight Bob Mendez didn’t help matters by taunting and laughing his way through two sandwiches and a bag of potato chips as his weight-cutting teammates tried not to watch. Everybody was relieved when they checked into the seedy strip motel just off the freeway in Mt. Carmel as the sun was going down.

The tournament included seven local teams as well as Chapel Forge. In the first round of the tournament Zach faced Tom Bradenton of host Mt. Carmel. Bradenton, who was short and pudgy, looked to Zach like somebody who needed to drop down at least two weight classes to have any chance at all of being competitive. He didn’t present much of a challenge to Zach, who nursed the match into the third period only because he needed the workout to ensure that he made weight the next morning. With fewer than thirty seconds left on the clock and a 14-0 lead, Zach finally finished Bradenton off by pinning him with a painful double-arm bar.

Later that night the wrestlers gathered in one of the four motel rooms the team had taken. Some of them watched a college basketball game on television. Others played cards. Zach stretched out on one of the beds, ignoring the chatter of his teammates. He amused himself by wadding up pages he tore from the phone book and trying to toss them into the waste can. Joe and the guys are probably tuning up and getting ready to go on, he guessed. That included Glimmer and whatever bass player they could scrounge up. He felt sad knowing they were going on stage without him.

“You’re in for a real beating tomorrow,” Mark Easton said to Zach, interrupting his thoughts. “You’re wrestling Jack Sonville. He lost in the Pennsylvania state finals last year. If I were you I’d be happy just to score a point.”

Easton had moved into Zach’s sight line. Zach sat up and threw the ball of paper over Easton’s head and against the wall, hoping it would carom into the can. He craned his neck around Easton but was unable to see whether he succeeded. “You worry too much,” he told Easton.

“It’s your neck, not mine,” Easton said with a shrug.

“You’re always so worried about how good the other guy is,” Zach said. “Who cares? You’ll find out when the match starts. Stop researching everything and just go out and wrestle.”

“You have to scout the opposition, moron,” Easton said. “You think you’re some kind of wrestling expert now?”

“That’s not scouting,” Zach said. “You’re always trying to decide who to be afraid of. It’s like you’re afraid to disturb the natural order of wrestling.”

“Natural order?” Easton said. “Are you drugged out or something?”

“Stop trying to decide who you’re allowed to beat,” Zach said. “Otherwise you’ll never beat anybody who’s any good. It’s common sense. Just get out there and kick somebody’s tail, stop worrying so much.” Zach paused. “Do you know what karma is?”

“Karma?” Easton sneered. “Oh boy.”

“Just kidding,” Zach said. “Somebody asked me that the other day.”

Easton scowled and started to walk away, shaking his head. “How do you think I could beat you all of a sudden?” Zach called out to him. “That didn’t fit into your natural order, did it?”

“You just got lucky at the right time,” Easton said. “And you know it.”

“Nope,” Zach said. “My secret weapon is that I don’t give a crap. I’m not afraid of anybody. But you, you’re afraid of your own shadow. And of me.”

“Are you done now?” Easton asked. “That’s the biggest load of garbage I ever heard. It sure won’t help you tomorrow.”

“Yeah it will,” Zach said. “When I look this guy in the eye he’ll know it won’t be easy. Guys like him would rather wrestle guys like you because you follow the script.”

“I’m the best guy on the team,” Easton said.

“In some ways, maybe,” Zach replied.

There was a knock at the door. After it was opened a group of wrestler dads streamed in. Zach figured they were checking up on their sons, making sure they weren’t getting into too much trouble while enjoying their first tastes of freedom in their own motel rooms. Most of them tried not to make eye contact with him as they buzzed around the room handing out money and praising their son’s efforts on the mat. He dropped the phone book loudly onto the floor before lying back on the bed and closed his eyes.

~~~

The next morning Zach squared off with Sonville, a senior from Shamokin High School, on a mat that just happened to be in front of the Shamokin section. Zach didn’t think he’d ever seen so many people in the same place wearing purple. He could feel Sonville’s physical strength when the two were tied up for most of the first period. In the last fifteen seconds Sonville locked his arms around Zach’s torso, blocked a leg and tripped him to the mat, scoring the only two points of the period.

For the second period Zach chose to start in the bottom position. He sat out and turned in hard. Surprisingly, everything he was looking for was right where he’d hoped. He retained Sonville’s right wrist and hooked Sonville’s right leg with his own left arm. He then put his ear on the mat and rolled sideways, putting Sonville on his back with a Peterson Roll.

Or so he thought. The referee didn’t signal any points for Zach’s reversal, nor did he start counting any back points. Confused, Zach looked over to Coach Crisfield, who was already complaining. “That’s a Peterson! Where’s the reversal?” he asked the referee loudly with his arms spread wide. In the meantime, Sonville had carefully maneuvered onto his side and was pushing Zach onto his own back. When it was clear that the referee was about to start counting off back points for Sonville, Zach shifted out of danger. The period ended with no change in position and no change in score.

There was no wrestling for a few minutes while Crisfield argued with the referee at the scorer’s table. “There’s probably a picture of that move in the rule book!” Crisfield yelled. “How can you not call that?” Zach couldn’t hear the referee’s reply. Hancock, who could see that arguing wasn’t doing any good, got between Crisfield and the referee and gently pushed him away. The discussion was over, and the referee walked back to restart the match.

Zach, who still trailed 2-0, was in the top position for the third period. That didn’t last long. He tried a cradle but Sonville extended his body enough to prevent Zach from locking hands. When Zach had committed himself to staying high, near Sonville’s shoulders, Sonville backed out between Zach’s legs. Zach was forced to let go, surrendering two points for a reversal.

Now in the bottom position, Zach tried a standup and then a switch but was unable to score. At least I’m keeping him from attacking, Zach thought. I’ve got to keep moving. He sat out and turned in, remembering that he had been able to hit a move that way earlier. This time, instead of stopping underneath and locking in the leg for a Peterson Roll, he kept turning until he was out from under Sonville. When he let go of Sonville’s wrist and grabbed him from behind with a tight waist grip the referee signaled a reversal. With a minute to go Zach had cut the lead to 4-2.

Sonville immediately escaped with a standup, earning a point. Before Zach had decided what to do next Sonville came hard with the same body lock that he’d taken Zach down with earlier. Again he was able to trip Zach, this time onto his back. Zach felt Sonville effortlessly switch his grip to an under hook while securing Zach’s leg with his own at the same time. Zach was completely immobilized on his own back. He arched to keep his shoulder blades off the mat while looking for a way out. There was none. The match finally ended as a 10-2 victory for Sonville.

“You’ve really come a long way,” Hancock told Zach later, when the team was warming up together for the next tournament session. “That kid’s a sure state champ next March in Hershey. It was much closer than the score. That was anybody’s match until the last minute. You can’t ask for anything more than that.” Zach winked at Easton, who was listening intently from fifteen feet away.

Down in the consolation bracket Zach pinned his next opponent easily with a first-period cradle. That put him in the consolation finals, which were wrestled that evening. In that match, which determined who finished in third place, Zach lost to Pete Dunedin of Lourdes Regional High School in a wild 22-16 match that featured several lead changes. Zach felt he had his opponent pinned twice but the referee saw things differently both times. After Dunedin’s hand was raised he reached over and raised Zach’s hand to the crowd in a gesture of respect. Zach appreciated it but he’d rather have won the match. The only positive he took from the match was that he had scored points consistently for six minutes. It finally felt to him like all the training he’d done was finally beginning to show. A fourth place medal in a Pennsylvania tournament was a big step up from his accomplishments as a substitute during the previous season. While watching the tournament finals, which included wins by Betterton and Mendez as well as a tight loss by Easton, Zach decided that he was happy with the way the trip to Pennsylvania had turned out.

Laying in bed that night Zach thought again about his band mates at the club in Philadelphia. Once they got used to the new members, he knew he’d be missed less and less. Dumphries was his best friend, but he hadn’t even called Zach after that last ugly practice to see how he was holding up. His days with the band were probably over, he thought sadly.

On the other hand, wrestling was going as well as he could have hoped. He had won seven matches, against only three losses. Although he hated losing, he didn’t feel too badly about it given the caliber of wrestlers that had beaten him. But every time he felt good about the wrestling, something reminded him that he was out of the band. He drifted off to sleep as he wondered if he’d made the right decision about which of his passions to follow.