As for these United States of America, well, you can prattle on about Michael Phelps or Bruce Jenner or Muhammad Ali or any other famed Olympian we have produced, but keep in mind this: Our wrestlers have won 50 golds. And 125 medals in all.
That mat meant every bit as much to them as that pool did to Ryan Lochte, as that gym apparatus did to Gabby Douglas, as that hardwood floor did to Kobe Bryant. Wrestlers are human, man. If you pin them, do they not bleed?
I am thinking of scholastic wrestlers all over the globe who starve themselves to make weight, devote countless hours to training for a match, learn every hold and every escape. Most don't dream of selling out Madison Square Garden some day. They do often fantasize about ducking their heads to have a necklace with a medallion draped around their necks.
High school wrestling has been the stuff of literature and cinema, from "The World According to Garp" to "Win Win." It has been a part of many a young man's formative years. It has now become part of a 21st century young woman's world as well.
Without it, we don't have young Jeff Blatnick of Niskayuna, New York, growing up to beat cancer and beat his opponent in the 1984 super-heavyweight gold-medal match, quite a feat for a kid who had his spleen and appendix taken out.
We don't have Steve Fraser, a night earlier, caressing his gold medal with one hand, his pregnant wife with the other, and inviting a reporter (me), "Hey, come on over to the hotel. We'll be partying all night!"
Because there won't be any Olympic wrestlers any more. Not if the IOC goes through with this preposterous proposition.
Can't we talk these people out of it? Grant them some 2020 hindsight? I do think we can convince them, and I'm pretty sure that I know how. Twist their arms.
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