The pending Attack... Me verses The Mat.

I think I am going to have a heart attack! Or a panic attack... or some kind of attack. I don’t know which attack it will be, but I know it’s coming.

I went to see Alex, my 12 year old no longer little baby, at his wrestling meet. I missed the first one due to overlapping schedules. Charlee is now in Theater Group and I was not able to leave her there alone. This day the schedule still overlapped, but leaving her was now an option.

I raced over to the OMS in the hopes of getting a glimpse of Alex in his meet. The parking lot was full, my first indicator that this might be a big thing. When I opened the school doors, a wave of noise streamed into my face. People were yelling, shouting, cheering.... Bells were ringing, hands were clapping, feet were stomping. My heart started to pound in unison. I ran to the noise, hoping it was not Alex’s turn I was missing.

In the middle of the large gymnasium were two bodies dressed in blue wrestling uniforms. Their suits were similar, other than white/yellow or red trim. They had helmets on to protect their ears, as well as mouth pieces. I am sure mouth pieces... lest these boys need serious orthodontic care.... I could not see if one of these boys was my son. I navigated around to try to get a better facial view... they were in the midst of wrestling ‘moves’ and duly struggling into the next position. The referee was close. At times he himself on the floor. All of a sudden the boys were now standing, still wrestling but standing. The crowd roared. My heart was racing. I still couldn’t tell if this was Alex? Looking at them wasn’t working. I couldn’t imaging my little cute son behaving like these boys were... I started looking into the stands. There was a sea of blue outfits to sort through. Deciphering by means of merely the opposing white, yellow, or red trim was impossible... and I never realized how many people had brown hair?! No Alex?!

Then the crowd sounds surged, I looked back to the entangled boys. One grabbed the other and twirled and twisted, up around over, and with a loud - painful - plunk, the other landed on his back. If there wasn’t so much screaming I am sure we could have heard the wind being knocked out of him. But he didn’t give up. My heart almost did.... but not him. He wriggled out of his compromising position to the delight of the audience. All I could think was ‘That BETTER NOT be my son!?!’ Here started my panic... I do not know how I am going to survive my son being on the mat!

Alex saw me from the stands. He ran to greet me. "Alex! I was looking for you. Did you go already?" I was relieved to see him and hoped, for my sake, he already fought. I did my motherly scan: he was still breathing... no blood, able to walk, nothing broken... This is good! Please say you went already, so I could listen to your story intently and not have to endure the agony of the slowing clock of a wrestling match.... waiting for a bell or a chest pain..... please....

‘No. I didn’t go.’ He was disappointed, I didn’t know what I was.

I asked, thru the lump in my throat, when his turn was? He didn’t know. Another boy was set to hit the mat. Yes, in the literal term! The coach met with him on the side for ‘the pep talk.’ Their heads were close to combat the noise level. A few ‘moves’ were gone over, a ‘get going’ slap, and the team member was in position. Now a second set of boys flailed around on the mat. Alex smiled at me knowingly. He knew I was a bit overwhelmed by what was happening.
I had no idea that this sport was so extreme. Stupid woman! And I pushed my son to join?!

"Alex, honey this is intense! I didn’t realize how involved it was. I don’t know how I am going to sit here and watch you do that?!" Directing my gaze to the boy now thudding to the mat, after just flying threw the air... Alex nodded his head seeing my dilemma. He smile that of a man. You know the smile, the confident, smirky, he will survive against the odds smile. I smiled back. Behold... my son was stepping into manhood before my eyes.

"I guess I can’t go out on the mat, huh?" He laughed and rolled his eyes. Then in all seriousness looked me in the face "NO! You can’t!" My son’s warning was noted. I can’t make a scene. No going on the mat for any ‘You touched my son? I am going to kick your ass!’ moments.... Apparently I am going to have to live through it.

Good Lord!

The bell sounded and the exhausted boys shook hands. Alex ran off to see when he was up. I stood there duly kicking myself for suggesting wrestling...

Another ‘pep talk,’ and another set of boys scuffled... the audience cheered and gasped. All I could think was there was not enough ‘talk’ or ‘pep’ from any man, to get my being out on that mat!! Well maybe a fearful tear from my son.... but that doesn’t seem to be happening....

I gasped again when Alex returned and told me ‘I won’t be wrestling today. I do not have a weight match.’ Only this gasp was that of utter relief!! He was disappointed!

Thank you God! Now maybe my senses can calm down. Maybe we can even move to Tonga before the next meet! Apparently I’ve got till Thursday... hmmmm.... surely enough time? With the amount of adrenaline racing through my veins, I see no problem making it happen.