Free Pinned by Alfred C. Martino Page B

Jordan Seitzer from Manalapan, tough on his feet and Region VI champ the previous season.
    Sweat coated Bobby's skin. One more win and he would get a showdown with Korske. He unzipped his navy blue nylon warm-up suit. A pungent smell rose from his armpits.
    "On deck, mat number one," the PA system boomed. "One-hundred-and-twenty-nine-pound semifinal. Zane, Millburn; and Seitzer, Manalapan." And a moment later, "On deck, mat number two. One-hundred-and-twenty-nine-pound semifinal ... Korske, Lennings; and Milner, Essex Catholic..."
    Bobby genuflected. In a quieter moment, he could have finished reciting the Our Father and the first part of the Hail Mary—which was all he knew—but his thoughts were blurred...
and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who
—Twice he lost his place, then gave up on the rest when the crowd let out a sudden roar. He stepped out from under the bleachers. Time was winding down in the third period of the 122-pound semifinal match.
    Bobby watched Korske standing by mat number two. Korske didn't bounce on his toes, didn't stretch his legs or arms, or practice any moves. He didn't talk to teammates, or his coach, and only acknowledged briefly a girl with blond hair standing behind him. Arms folded, headgear tethered to the drawstring of his warm-ups, he seemed as calm as if he were lying on the sofa at home.
    At the buzzer, Bobby stripped off his lucky Yankees T-shirt and put on his headgear. He got a pat on the back from his father and a "Go, Bobby!" from Christopher as he marched his way to the corner of the mat. There, he and Coach Messina shook hands.
    "This guy's good," Coach Messina said. "But this is
your
season. Six minutes of hard Wrestling. The finals are waiting for you."
    Bobby and his Manalapan opponent met at the middle of the mat, each placing a foot inside the center circle. They shook hands. "Keep Wrestling until I stop you," the referee instructed, then blew the whistle.
    Bobby immediately tied up with Seitzer. For much of the period, he pushed forward and eased up, letting Seitzer push back, gauging his strength. Sensing an opening, Bobby dropped down for a hi-crotch, pivoting to capture a leg. But Seitzer sprawled hard, and neither gained an advantage.
    Bobby pressed the attack, shooting a double-leg, settling in deep. Seitzer wedged his arm underneath Bobby's armpit for the wizzer and, with a powerful shift of his hips, forced Bobby's grip to weaken. Bobby tried to repenetrate, but as he did, the buzzer sounded, ending the period scoreless.
    "Your choice, Millburn," the referee said.
    "Bottom," Bobby answered, adjusting his headgear. He noticed Seitzer hunched over, tugging at the bottom of his singlet, his chest heaving fiercely.
    Bobby dropped to his hands and knees. A moment later, Seitzer settled into the top position. Off the whistle, Bobby stood hard, thrusting his hips out, trying to break the hold around his waist. Seitzer tripped him down to the mat. Bobby tried a second time. Then a third time. On the fourth, he was able to get to his feet, cut his arm underneath, and square off.
    "Escape," the referee said. "One point, Millburn."
    It had taken a monumental effort, but Bobby pressed for the takedown. With time running down, he tugged on Seitzer's head, then drop-stepped into his gut. It was as beautiful a single-leg as he had done all year, and for a moment, he pictured the scoreboard flashing 3–0.
    But that was premature. Again, Seitzer threw in a powerful wizzer, driving Bobby outside the Wrestling circle as the second period ended.
    Bobby walked back to the center, mad at himself for losing the takedown. Now he would be in the top position, needing to ride Seitzer for the final two minutes to protect the 1–0 score.
    At the referee's whistle, Seitzer did a roll that Bobby countered, then sat out and turned hard, which Bobby followed smoothly. Seitzer sat out again, but Bobby kept a tight waist. The two wrestlers battled from the same