Free Takedown by Rich Wallace

1
    Outsmarted
    C ould anything be harder than this? Donald sat with his back against the gymnasium wall, eyes shut and sweat streaming down his face. His legs hurt. His shoulders ached. His left foot was starting to cramp.
    He opened one eye and looked at the clock on the wall: 4:27 P.M. Coach Mills had said practice would end at 5:15. Three minutes of rest and then forty-five minutes of drills.
    There was an inch of water left in his bottle, and he sucked it right down. The water was warm but it quenched his thirst a little. The corner of his mouth stung where the bottle had touched it. He put a finger to his lip. When he pulled it away, there was a dot of red. He curled his tongue to that spot and tasted blood.
    I’ll live, he thought.
    He felt a shoe against his leg—not quite a kick, but a rather hard nudge. Freddy Salinardi was standing there, looking down at him. Freddy was a muscular eighth-grader and one of the team captains. “Let’s go, wimp,” he said. “Nap time is over.”
    Donald scrambled to his feet. Freddy called everybody wimps, at least all of the seventh-graders. This was the first day of practice, so the newcomers were getting tested by the veterans. Donald stepped toward the mat. Freddy was already hassling Mario and Kendrick, making them stand up, too.
    What a jerk, Donald thought, but he’d never say that out loud.
    He had already started to figure things out. Coach worked the wrestlers hard but he was a nice guy, and he certainly seemed to know his stuff about the sport.
    They’d learned some basic wrestling moves earlier in the session, but the past half hour had been all about conditioning. Jumping jacks, sit-ups, running in place. Donald knew this sport would be difficult, but he hadn’t envisioned anything like this.
    Coach blew his whistle and quickly put the wrestlers in pairs. Donald winced when Coach lined him up with Tavo Rivera, one of the best eighth-graders. Tavo was the same size as Donald, but he was stronger and quicker.
    “Wrestle!” Coach called.
    Donald leaned back then lunged quickly forward, but Tavo easily sidestepped him and Donald stumbled to the mat. Tavo was on him in an instant, circling his thigh with one hand and lifting his ankle with the other. From there it was a matter of seconds until Donald was flat on his back, pinned.
    Tavo was an experienced wrestler, thin with long, lean limbs and gappy teeth. He’d been a starter the previous year as a seventh-grader and now was one of the clear leaders of the team. He grinned at Donald as they got to their feet, but Donald just glared back.
    “Let’s go!” Donald said, spitting out the words and lunging toward Tavo again. He’d show this guy how tough he was.
    Within five minutes, Tavo had pinned him four times.
    Coach Mills walked over and faced Donald.
    “Know what you’re doing wrong?” Coach asked.
    “Getting my butt kicked?” Donald said angrily.
    “Yeah, you are. But why?”
    “I don’t know. I’m trying as hard as I can.”
    “Hard but not smart,” Coach said. “You’re giving away every move. Watch.”
    Coach went into a staggered stance, one foot forward, knees bent, hands out in front.
    “Here’s what you do.” Coach leaned back and then lunged, just as Donald had done. “When you lean back and wind up like that, you’re telling your opponent that you’re about to attack. There’s no surprise.”
    Coach went back into his stance. Then he shot forward toward Tavo, head up and his body low. “Penetrate,” he said. “Take a big first step and really shoot in there toward your opponent.”
    Donald kept glaring at Tavo, who kept grinning back with confidence. Tavo could tell how frustrated Donald was, and he knew that his year of wrestling experience was making a huge difference.
    “Got it?” Coach asked.
    “Yeah,” Donald said flatly.
    “Then do it. There’s a lot more to winning than being stronger or faster than the other wrestler. Tavo weighs the same as you, but he’s