Wrasslin'

On the left is Kyven Gadson, a senior at Waterloo East High School, who, tonight, won the Iowa Class 3A wrestling championship at 189 pounds.

Believe it or not, Kyven used to run up the street and play basketball with me when he was a little kid and we both lived on the same street in southside of Iowa City. He was more annoying than anything, but whatever. I’ve made my point.

So… Wrestling. It’s an Iowa thing. Though there’s wrestling in other states — including, to my surprise, out here in SoCal — it gets nowhere near the interest or attention than in the Hawkeye State.

It’s an obsession on both the high school and college level. In 1995, the NCAA Division I Wrestling Championship was held in Iowa City, and I remember being at my aunt and uncle’s house the night the championship round was held. Everyone was in the kitchen, my dad sitting on the kitchen floor, listening to matches with Iowa wresters on the old transistor radio. It’s a scene I will never forget.

Two uncles and two of my cousin’s were serious wrestlers. A guy from Cascade in my college Rhetroic class admitted to getting his ass kicked by my cousin, Judd. Nick wrestled at a sub-state tournament in Van Horne (in a huge ass gym; at least twice as big as the new gym at City High, which is three or four times the size as the school in Van Horne), and Judd wrested at State, in the “The Barn.” Wrestling is exciting and interesting, but, needless to say, besides attending meets involving family, and a few Hawkeye home wrestling meets when visitors were in town, I’ve never been a big wrestling fan.

Frankly, it’s kinda gay.

Seriously. Two guys, dressed in nothing but form-fitting singlets, grabbing and clawing and trying to lie on top of each other. It sounds a little…homosexual. And that’s cool if you’re into it. But I’m not. Ironically, it’s very manly in the wrestling circles, and I see what they mean: two men, mano-a-mano, in battle. It’s very Greek or Roman. Very gladiatorial. I’ve been in fights before, but I’ve never tried to pin a man on the ground and grind my crotch against his body. The man-on-man crotch grinding, I realize, is not part of the game — it doesn’t get you any points — but it happens. Much more than I care for.

Strangely, I still think it’s interesting. I was listening right along with everyone in my aunt and uncle’s kitchen, cheering for both of my cousins, and I still follow the fortunes of the Iowa team, which is probably drawing more fans than the Iowa men’s basketball team. (In my afternoon office, I have a commemorative DMR PDF poster of the Hawkeye’s 2008 national championship team.) It’s an odd thing, but, like I said, it’s an Iowa thing. It’s something that will likely stay with me for the rest of my life, regardless of how gay it is.

Congrats, Kyven. I bet I could still beat you at H-O-R-S-E.