There is a little wrestler in all of us.
Some of you won’t admit it, but there’s no argument we as a people grapple each day.
I have never quite figured it out, only the following: As a high school sport, wrestling has the allure of a siren song in the Rocky Mountains, a super-glue hold on a willing audience. It must have a no-look-away clause. It’s there. We watch.
I’m guilty. It began in the Philadelphia area, back when there was “riding time” (some of you may need a Google search). I became acquainted with a local who won a coveted Pennsylvania title in a two-class system. He beamed wherever he went, as if a shadowmaker for Punxsutawney Phil. And in the Spirit of 1976, champions earned commemorative jackets.
No one in my circle of friends ever offered proof, but this guy I met, the state champion, was rumored to have slept in his jacket and years later refused to part with it even when its molecules were close to calling it an existence.
His name was Jeff Below, certainly in line with the sport’s participants then and now.
During the same era, a friend, who finished with the 26th-best career record in Pennsylvania, gave up a move in the closing seconds of a state semifinal and lost by a point.
He didn’t talk to any of us for about a month.
So we have established passion . . . but what’s the appeal, why the interest and respect?
Work ethic and physical demands? These guys, 896 strong who will begin preliminaries this afternoon at the Pepsi Center in Colorado’s 73rd tournament, may be as ready as civilians can be for boot camp.
Discipline and commitment? Try perfecting the fireman’s carry or a cradle after, among other tasks, doing enough push-ups that it feels like your arms are going to fall off, sit-ups to the point that you can’t bend anymore and running so many laps that your legs may as well be Jell-O.
Heart? It’s the one prep event in which tough guys are humbled regularly.
Strategy? Watch the upper-end competitors — they automatically know what to do, how to counter when touched on any part of their bodies.
Commitment? Save for the heavier weights filled by footballers, most wrestlers don’t fool with bats, balls or nets. They wrestle.
Sportsmanship? It’s mandatory to shake hands before and after the match, poor attitude is not tolerated.
Fan appreciation? More than 40,000 spectators will go through the Pepsi Center doors over three days and expect a full house Saturday night for finals. They range from toddlers to great grandparents, the well-versed to the curious, and enough former competitors to hold other tournaments. Plus, a wrestling crowd roaring at The Can is as good as it gets in Colorado high school sports.
The fact that it’s the ultimate one-on-one, me-against-you? “May the best man win” has been a standard for decades.
Tradition? You may recall a former proponent of wrestling before he was elected to lead our nation, Abraham Lincoln.
Opportunity? High schools offer multiple every-kid sports, and wrestling, which includes all shapes, sizes and grades, is one of them.
Camaraderie? This type of competition tends to promote a greater common respect.
Glory? Having your arm raised afterward is priceless.
It requires a certain type of competitor who is patient in a dreary practice room and willing to assemble and wash mats on the road to marching in with the Parade of Champions and being atop the victory stand.
For me, it’s as confounding as colleges canceling wrestling programs while the “pro” version remains wildly popular.
But I do know this: There’s a little wrestler in all of us.
Neil H. Devlin: 303-954-1714 or ndevlin@denverpost.com
