BAM! Same Results

Often, the world underestimates me. Or maybe I overestimate myself. Whatever! Consider the following event.

Wrestling again? Yep.

Uncle Hank and Aunt Wilma, visiting from Ohio for a few days in Tucson, were the cool relatives. In reality, at this point in my life, the only aunt and uncle I actually had any contact with. There is actually multiple stories here, but best left for future Shorts. I remember Uncle Hank, a long haul driver, was up early each morning, which I thought was crazy. Each morning as I stumbled out of my bedroom, I would find him in the front room, sitting on the couch reading the Encyclopedia Britannica. Reading glasses in place, scanning I know not what. It didn’t matter, he just loved to read.

I recall he shared he could read a novel while driving across the country. He demonstrated how, holding the book in one hand, he could place the book at the top of the steering wheel, glancing between the book and the road. Crazy, right? I imagined him glancing down the highway as he quickly turned the page. Was this normal for truck drivers?

One morning, the three of us, mom, her legs pulled underneath her; all comfy, sitting in her spot drinking an ice tea, no sugar.

At the other end of the couch, we have me.

We have Uncle Hank, sitting where a TV used to be located. For now, gone.

How we got from point A to point B, I do not know. It could be we were watching wrestling on TV or something he read in the encyclopedia about Greco-Roman wrestling.

My uncle did his best to convince us, the generic us, that it was all real! I remember when visiting in Ohio all the men sat around on Saturday morning watching TV as “giants,” in various outfits, lifted fellow wrestlers and bounced them off the canvas or out of the ring where they landed on tables crashing to the floor. Tag team matches were the best. “This is a real sport and real athletes,” he would proclaim.

Personally, I had my doubts.

So somehow this morning we discuss Indian Wrestling, in which two people lie side by side on their backs in reversed position (head to foot) locking their near arms and (on the count of three) raising and locking the corresponding legs while attempting to force each other’s leg down while turning the other wrestler face-down or flipping them over. The last man, still in their original starting position, wins.

“Let’s Indian wrestle,” he goaded.

We certainly could not destroy a television. Already accomplished that feat.

My mom expressing her concern, “remember you have a bad back.” A line that would not stop any truly read-blooded male from any manly endeavor. Certainly would not stop him. I imagine he felt confident, really this kid?

I will add here boastfully I had never, ever lost an Indian Wrestling challenge. I was like 5 - 0; I was probably thinking, really, this old man?

Without any hesitation onto our backs, side by side, arms locked at the elbow, legs up… down… count one…, legs up… down… count two…, legs up… count three…, interlock legs… BOOM!

I flipped him.

Oh, to have captured his expression.

“Let’s do it again!” he insisted.

Mom, “No your back.”

Uncle Hank, “No, one more time.”

Reset!

Repeat!

BAM! Same results.

I’m not sure what he was thinking but, his body language was loud and clear. “How the blank did he do that?”

In my entire life I have never lost an Indian Wrestling challenge, it’s physics.

Did I ever tell you a how I beat my cousin multiple time racing here to there and back again?