Our middle school gym was small—half the size of a normal one—but when our team ran into it, the crowd had packed the bleachers and made the gym appear even smaller. Everyone was there—even people who had no children of their own—standing and yelling when we ran around the outer circle of the wrestling mat and warmed up. I spotted my parents immediately, front and center, and beside them sat four or five of the men I recognized from the bar. I hadn’t seen most of them in a long time. The King was there, as he would be for most of my matches during all six years, and beside him sat Ray Scanlon, who years before had told me the three keys to a happy life. My mother flashed “I love you” in sign language. My father gave me a thumbs-up.

When we finished warming up, the other team came back and they lined us up on opposite sides of the mat and announced each name. My opponent’s name was called first, and he walked out and waited for me in the center of the mat, which is where I met him when they called my own name next. I shook his hand and walked off. The crowd clapped but I could hear my mother yelling loudest. I could only imagine how loud she’d be during the match.

Jason walked off after shaking his opponent’s hand and slapped me five while I stripped down to my singlet.

“Whip his ass,” he said.

I nodded, waiting for all the names to be called. My stomach was full of lead; my hands were shaking. Breathing heavily, sweating. I stared at the ground, then looked at my parents. My father watched the other wrestlers being announced but my mother was watching me. I could tell she was just as nervous as I.

The referee and captains from each team met in the middle of the mat. I had no idea what they were doing out there. The ref flipped a double-sided disk, red on one side, green on the other, and some decision was made. Then our captain walked off and my opponent stayed. My name was announced again and I stepped onto the mat and walked to the center where he stood waiting. The room was spinning. I wasn’t at all sure I was breathing. Nonetheless, I shook my opponent’s hand. And the ref blew the whistle.