Thursday 16 April 2020

My Freestyle Wrestling Comeback - and a 30 Year Old Grudge Match

 The van full of wrestlers was about a half an hour from Calgary en route from Edmonton. The assistant coach Vang looked back from the front passenger seat and made an announcement. "The dual tournament starts at 6:00 pm. We are running slightly behind. Start warming up as soon as we arrive."  The he looked right at me and said "Are you pumped Bobby. After all these years, its finally Show Time!"
   My head quickly snapped up from a relaxed, recline position. Peaceful travel bliss was suddenly replaced by physical shock.  " B-b- but I thought the duals were only for the varsity wrestlers. I'm just a club wrestler. I don't suit up until tomorrow!"
   "We knew how raring to go you were." replied Vang. "We got you an exhibition match." 
A stomach churning, sickly, overwhelming feeling of impending disaster suddenly possessed my whole being - body, mind, and soul!  "It's just that I was mentally prepared for tomorrow." I protested.
"Re-prepare yourself!"  a veteran varsity wrestler shouted snidely. Easy for him to say. This would be my first wrestling match in over 15 years and at a much higher skill level.
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The van pulled into a dilapidated looking recreation center in a seedy part of town just south of the Calgary stampede grounds. I felt like I was on my death march as I trudged from the van across the parking lot. I looked to the west. If it were daytime and clear, the Rocky Mountains were be visible on the horizon. That's where a sane person my age would be - off in the mountains skiing, not trying to be a middle aged gladiator. We walked down into a basement area of the building into what would surely be the site of my last days in this world. It felt as though I had descended into a barbaric scenario of human cock fighting. I could envision high dollar wagers being placed against me like a short trader betting against Nortel stock. "Gadzooks! What have I done!" I said to myself.
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How had it all come to this? Blame it on a mid life crisis! My government job was Dullsville! The last relationship had hit the rocks with extreme force. My track and field and road running days were in decline. Beer league hockey and the weight room were great but for some reason I longed for more. I kept thinking back to my high school days in Ottawa when I was the city novice wrestling champion. My university had no wrestling team. Maybe amateur wrestling was my true calling, even after over a decade and a half. Maybe I could've been a contender!
 One day I ran into the then University of Alberta wrestling coach, Mike Payette, by the running track.He was from my hometown of Ottawa. I inquired about working out with the grapplers. "We always need fresh meat and more throwing dummies!" Mike replied. "Every one is welcome." That was enough encouragement. I was all in!
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A mid life crisis or a driven man on a comeback mission?
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I reluctantly trudged towards the schedule on the wall of that wretched dungeon basement to view the match order. As I was reading it, Shaun, the new head U of Alberta wrestling coach came over and inquired. "Who do you wrestle?"
"Some guy named Podlog." I answered.
"Ah, Mad Dog Podlog! He's a ferocious upcoming young stud." coach Shaun informed me.
"Mad Dog Podlog." I muttered. "Why do I so not like the sound of that?"
Coach Shaun pointed over my shoulder. "That's the Mad Dog, over there."
I reluctantly turned to look and immediately wished that I hadn't. The focus of the pointing glared back at us. I was staring at a cauliflower - eared, muscular mutant with a shoulders like mountains and upper arms like cannon balls. His canyon - like abdominal ridges must have been caused by a combine plow running over his midsection. The Michelangelo that had chiseled his body from granite had forgot to include the neck. 'That's great!" I muttered. "That's just great!" 
"Shaun, there''s no way that that guy is in my weight class. He's immense. Maybe I should bow out and rest up for tomorrow." I pleaded.
   "Sure, go ahead and bow out. You will be my sparring partner all next week. You also be first man up for the shark bait drills!" the coach threatened.
Getting the coach's infamous, vengeful cross face blocks across my nose during leg take down practice was not appealing. Being the man in the middle for shark bait and attacks by a succession of wrestlers was also frightful.  Some choice: Punishment by broken nose and gang beating or punishment at the hands of some psycho-eyed hooligan named Mad Dog! 

So You Want to be a Fitness Trainer: A Wrestling Legend: Jeremy ...
Mad Dog Podlog (black and red singlet) a human wrecking machine!
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As I was warming up I accidentally crossed paths with my psycho-eyed nemesis. I decided to try and butter him up a bit and dull his homicidal edge. Better the Devil you know! I caught his eye and cheerfully said "Looks like we're up soon. Should be fun." All I got in return was a cold, calculating stare as he retorted in a deep gravelly voice "You will not have fun!" I feared that he was right about that.
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About 5 minutes before our bout was to start I watched the Mad Dog go into the washroom. I followed him in. It was time to try a different tactic. I would deflate him psychologically before the match. I pretended to be adjusting my wrestling singlet in the mirror as he came out of the toilet cubicle. I turned to him and pointed to a mat abrasion on my stomach. "Does this rash look contagious to you?" I asked him.
The Mad Dog stepped back and for a brief millisecond I thought I saw hesitation in his eyes. Had I gotten to him? Was there a slight decrease in his homicidal intent? Did I detect a hint of fear?
But then just as quickly, his eyes snapped back to those of a cold, calculating hit man for a mafia gang.
Great! Just great! Now he was really going to do a number on me.I had taken a bad situation and made it much, much worse!
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I sat on the bench and tried to encourage myself with positive self talk. "The city is a jungle and I'm just a beast. Any other wrestler is just another feast!" I chanted to myself.
"Match number 4, Podlog in the blue and Coakley in the red, on mat B " came the dreaded announcement over the speaker. I stood up and tried to walk to the center of the mat. I could not move. My legs had turned to sugar free jello. I looked across the mat and saw the Mad Dog walking towards the referee in the center of the mat. He was now salivating as he likely contemplated chewing away at the tasty brain marrow that lay just below the cranium of my frontal skull. I still couldn't move until coaches Vang and Shaun shoved me towards the center of the mat. "Have fun." they said in unison. 
   "F-f-f-fun!" I muttered meekly. I walked towards the referee and the impatient Mad Dog. I walked towards certain cataclysm! I held out a quivering arm for the hand shake and the referee's whistle to start the bout. Then it came, from deep in my soul, that  unadulterated,, woeful sound of  fear and doom! "Nooooooooooooooooooo!"




Olympic Greco-Roman Wrestling Tickets - Olympic Tickets 2012
In the red trunks - The Comeback Kid!
In the Blue Trunks  Mad Dog Podlog!

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                                            The Combatants 30 Years Later....................................

Jeremy Podlog - Producer / Director / Writer on Behance
Jeremy 'Mad Dog' Podlog is an award winning documentary filmmaker. 
His homicidal instinct is now more under control with therapy.
                            Check out his website at www.rabbitview.com
29 years later, this mutant scored a silver medal at the Canadian Championships.

Bob 'Killer' Coakley -a self given moniker of course-
(center with 2 fitness protegees-cash transactions may have been involved?        
 is now a Sports/Fitness Blogger, and Fitness Influencer
with another self given moniker 'Little Bobby Strong'


Until next time,   Keep Fit


5 comments:

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  2. Having been a wrestler once, I laughed a little too hard at the "does this rash look contagious to you?". Also, mental preparation is everything - its hard to adjust! Great story :)

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