His first match (I think that's what they're called--I have much to learn if he stays with this sport) resulted in him pinned on his back pretty quickly. I think he was stunned and overwhelmed and he got in a bad position just a couple seconds after the referee blew the whistle.
The second match lasted the full 3 minutes without a pin. My whole body tensed up while watching him fight through it, a visceral reaction that shocked me--my hands were clenched into fists, I shifted my weight while watching him writhe on the ground. A draw and he did well.
The third match lasted less than 3 minutes, but Mr. T put up a good fight. He has much to learn but didn't leave that gym discouraged. He still loves wrestling, even if he doesn't love the singlet (which, his younger brothers have observed, make him look like a "sexy man").
And speaking of his younger brothers, last night they stood beside me watching all of this unfold enthralled. "When will I be old enough to wrestle?" "When I'm big like Mr. T, I'm going to be in wrestling, too."
It strikes me as odd that a kid as lazy as my firstborn would be drawn to the most physically demanding sport out there. It would be less effort to stand out in right field on a sunny day in a grassy field and wait for the occasional ball to drop from the sky. But he has declared his undying devotion to wrestling for now and in a show of support I shall find a copy of Wrestling For Dummies so I can get behind him with a more extensive vocabulary.
Here is another gratuitous photo of my second born son, Mr. B, playing basketball. I do like basketball and don't think it's all snobbery and cliquery. I'm much better cheering for it, too, because I know what I'm talking about.
Get your hands up, Mr. B! Rebound! Rebound!
Somehow I have a gut feeling I won't see any of my boys competing in Forensics...