Chapter 1

Chapter 1

            “Dude, there is no way that this could possibly be happening.” I said as we walked into the University of Michigan wrestling room.

            “How did you get this one finagled, Coach?” Josh Dexter asked.

            “Well Dex, it’s all about who you know, not what you know.” Coach answered, walking up to the Michigan coach and extending his hand.

            “How ya’ doing Ty?” The Michigan coach, Kurt Brushfield, said, shaking Coach’s hand.

            “Pretty good Kurt. Thanks for letting us work out with you guys.” Coach said. “Campbell! Stevens! Get over here!”

            We walked over to where Coach Smitt and Coach Brushfield were standing. We stopped and waited for the two men to finish talking. As I watched the coaches interact, I could tell from their body language that they were old friends. I noticed a Michigan wrestling program sitting on a table nearby. I walked over and grabbed a copy, flipping it open to Coach Brushfield’s bio. When I saw that he attended and wrestled at AdrianCollege, my mind instantly clicked. Coach Smitt had wrestled there too, and the two were about the same age.

            I showed Stevens the program and he understood too. “Nothing like old wrestling buddies, huh Prophet?” He said, nudging me in side.

Stevens and I were best friends: we had been since fifth grade, when we wrestled each other in the “learn to wrestle” clinic that was held every year. Our friendship had continued through middle school and into high school, as well as our wrestling careers. Now both of us were top wrestlers in the state- Josh at 160 and me at 189. We hoped to get a scholarship to the same Division 1 college, and be successful college wrestlers together. We were closer than some brothers.

I punched Stevens in the shoulder and put the magazine back on the table. I walked back over as Coach was introducing us.

“Kurt, this is Josh Stevens and Isaiah ‘Prophet’ Campbell, our ‘captains-elect’, and two of the best wrestlers in the state.” Coach said, patting both of us on the shoulder.

“No need Ty, no need. I know exactly who these boys are. Josh Stevens; was a runner-up as a freshie at 152, two-time state champion at 160. His only losses are to a two-time state champ senior and the mighty David Greenhill.” Coach Brushfield said.

“Hey, he’s pretty good!” Josh said with a laugh.

“And here he is…the man who almost beat Daniel Stoker. Isaiah Campbell; well met sir. I am really excited to meet you.” Coach Brushfield said, shaking my hand and lightly patting me on the face. “You know son, you’re going to have to beat Stoker this year – never have two wrestlers graduated the same year completely undefeated. And Stevens is too heavy to have another shot at Greenhill.”

“Please, don’t remind me.” Josh added, holding his stomach and then punching the wall. “If only that ref had called that takedown.”

“You act like you’re the only one who’s ever gotten dicked over by a ref!” I said while pushing Stevens into the wall he had just assaulted.

“So anyway boys…are you all excited to be wrestling with the ‘big boys’?” Coach Brushfield asked. “Besswine, come here! I want you to meet your new practice partner!”

Taylor Besswine jogged over, his muscles rippling with every step he took. I looked at this man who weighed the same as I did, but appeared to be about fifty pounds heavier than I was. By no means was I a small man. But Besswine made me look like a 145 pounder.

“Dude, he really is a beast.” Stevens said under his breath.

Besswine deserved the reputation of a beast though. He was an undefeated four-time state champion from Iowa, one of the toughest wrestling states in the country, and the number one college recruit in the nation last year. He did something very few college wrestlers do: he wrestled as a true freshman, meaning he didn’t take a red-shirt year. And, unlike many true freshman, Besswine placed sixth in the nation at 184 pounds, losing only three matches, all of those at the NCAA championship tournament, and all of them to seniors. He was expected to take the championship next year, and was already being predicted to be on the Olympic team in 2008. And this was my practice partner for the day.

The entire team gathered on the wrestling mats and we started with a basic warm-up. Even in these basic move drills and hand fights I could tell Besswine wasn’t as strong as everyone believed. He was still strong; he just wasn’t the modern-day Hercules that he had been described as. At one point during our hand fighting session I controlled the tie-up for about two minutes, pretty good considering I was a Michigan high school runner-up, while Besswine was a NCAA All-American. When we moved onto the live takedowns, I began to realize what made Besswine the beast he was; he was strong, but he also had some of the best technique around. At one point he faked a strong outside shot to my left, and then swung around to my right in a double-leg sweep. As I was getting up all I could think was ‘How’d he do that?’

“Okay boys, hit the wall.” Coach Brushfield said. “Nice job, Smote. You guys have got some real intensity. But what else do you expect from a team that’s won two state championships in the last three years?” Coach Brushfield asked his wrestlers.

I looked around and realized Stevens and I were the only guys from our team that had integrated with the Michigan wrestlers. It was then that I realized that Stevens and I were the only two guys on our team that were expected to make it into college. We had other guys ranked in the state: there was junior Josh “Dex” Dexter, ranked seventh in the state at 140. Senior Leon Skodak was ranked fifth in the state at heavyweight. But neither of these guys had the skill to wrestle in college. Dex was being recruited by a couple of schools for baseball, and Skodak had signed his letter of intent to attend Norte Dame and play football. Mainly college wrestlers were all-staters, guys that placed highly and consistently. Guys like Stevens and me, who had single digit losses; guys that seemed amazingly rare in high school wrestling. But at the college level, almost everyone had a repertoire like ours.

Being that we were two of the best wrestlers in the state and nation, we were being looked at by a lot of colleges – Stevens more than myself, since I had yet to win a state title. I should’ve won mine last year, but the ref made a controversial call during the championship match that was still being argued today. Some people say he would’ve made that call no matter what match that was or who was wrestling. Some people say he wanted to protect Daniel Stoker’s perfect high school record. No one knows. I didn’t even care anymore. When things got real hot right before school let out, and the referee from that match retired and moved to the Upper Peninsula, I had my answer: I should’ve been a state champion.

“Alright boys,” Coach Smitt said, “Grab your stuff and let’s clear out. Thank the Michigan boys for letting us practice with them, and head back to the room. Hey, Kurt, don’t forget that Thursday is pizza night!”

“Gotcha’ Ty. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?” Brushfield replied.

“Sounds good. See you then. Thanks again guys!” Coach answered.

“Thanks!” Our entire team shouted in unison.

We headed down the hallway and out into the daylight. All of the other teams that would be here this week were just now checking in. We had been here since yesterday, guests of Coach Brushfield and the Michigan Wolverines. I saw a couple of kids I recognized, from small D-3 schools. Then Stevens ran up from behind and nudged me.

“Look who’s here…” He said, grinning and waving. “How you doing boys? I thought that this was a state championship camp? Last I checked you boys were ranked DEAD LAST this year!” Stevens taunted, putting his thumb on his nose and waving his fingers.

I looked up and saw the Sparta team getting off of the bus. I looked around and saw that Jerry Shaw was there, two-time 171 pound state champion, as big and black as ever. He hated both Stevens and me. When he dropped his bags was when his coach grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back.

“Oh, let’s go big boy!” I said while dropping my gear and knuckling up like some kind of drunken sailor.

Then, in a horrible Mike Tyson impersonation, Stevens added, “I’ma kill ‘em! I’ma kill ‘em. I’ma kill him and eat his babies!!”

We both laughed as Shaw stood there, grimacing towards Stevens and me. He turned away, shoving a smaller kid from his team out of the way as he stormed into the registration tent.

“Don’t blush!” I yelled, and was made aware of the fact the girls soccer camp was coming back from practice.

“I’m telling you, no one knows how to plan these camps…” I chuckled, turning and heading in that direction.

“Whoa’ there lil’ buddy.” Leon Skodak said, stepping into my path. His two hundred and ninety pound, six foot nine frame blocked my view of the girls.

“What are you doing?” I asked while ducking my head side to side around Leon’s body. “Move Skodak, stop being such a c**k-block.”

“I have no problem with you getting with one of those fine ladies, Prophet,” Leon said, turning around and walking next to me, back towards our room. “But if you remember, you just got done practicing with Taylor Besswine, correct? No offense there lil’ man, but you REEK!”

“Duly noted.” I said as a small figure appeared between Stevens and myself, walking on my left.

“Man, that was so awesome. Campbell, wasn’t it awesome? That was just so cool. You actually took down Mr. Besswine. What about you Stevens? How was wrestling with Mr. Stockbridge? Was that cool? I wish I could’ve wrestled with Mr. Stockbridge!” Dan Rodriguez said, unable to stay still from the excitement.

“Yeah, Dan…it was cool. Wanna’ do me a favor?” Josh said, annoyed.

“Anything for you Josh. Anything for a state champ. What do you need me—”

“Just run up to 7-11 and get Prophet and me a bottle of V-8 Splash, ok?” Stevens said while digging his wallet from his bag.

“Ok, but just one? You guys gonna’ split—”

“JUST GO BUY TWO FRIGGIN’ V-8 SPLASHES, OK?!?” Stevens screamed at the top of his lungs, holding out a five dollar bill.

“Ok Josh. Sorry!” Rodriguez yelled, running down the street full-tilt.

“Geez!” Stevens said, sighing and shaking his head. “Freshman these days…”

“So, what’s it feel like to be a state champion again?” Skodak said laughing at the awe Stevens brought to Dan’s eyes.

“I f’ing hate you.” Stevens sighed. “You know, if you weren’t so friggin’ big, I’d whip your—”

“HEY! Will you guys get back to the room, get your showers, and get some girls? It’s senior dinner night, remember?” Coach Smitt said.

“Oh yeah.” I said, looking between the other two seniors, Stevens and Skodak.

“NOT IT!” Stevens and I said almost simultaneously.

“Not – Damn it! I always get stuck taking Rodriguez’s sister. Why do I even try anymore?” Leon said.

Amanda Rodriguez was our senior wrestling manager. Normally, whenever we went out, the wrestling managers were escorted by a member of their own class. But no one wanted to escort Amanda. It wasn’t that she was ugly; she was down right gorgeous. But she had a stigma attached to her ever since our freshman year. Coach took us out for dinner before states, and Stevens brought Amanda along with him. We went back over to Coach’s house to swim in his pool, play basketball, and just have a fun time. But, somewhere between the pool table and the pool house, Stevens and Amanda “fell in love,” you could say. One thing led to the next…and Josh ended up a state runner-up, not a state champion. Therefore, just taking Amanda out to dinner was bad luck.

“Well, looks like no state championship for you this year, ‘big buddy’!” I said, punching Leon in the gut jokingly.

“Hopefully it’ll wear off before the end of camp.” He said, rolling his eyes and holding the door into our room for us.