Message from John Carter

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Saturday, April 23, 2011


He was about ten years younger than me, and perhaps ten pounds lighter.  There was no question that he was built.  Flat stomach, well-developed chest and arms, thick hairy legs.  I could tell that he was nervous.  I suppose he'd never met a man before--not for the sole purpose of wrestling.  But here he was, standing on a set of mats dressed in just a pair of baggy shorts.  He'd removed his shirt at my suggestion, and I had removed mine.  I could tell he was pleased with what he saw, and he flexed a few times for me trying to intimidate me.

After showing off for each other for about a minute, we went at it by some sort of mutual consent. I suppose neither of us could wait any longer to get our hands on each other.  He came in low, and got me in a single leg take-down.  I was amazed at just how quick he was.  I'm not known for my speed, and I wondered if this match would be over before it got started.  But once he had me on the mats, he lost his self-assurance, and I was able to immobilize his arms and turn him over.  We rolled over and over, in an extended scramble, and I felt that I had the upper-hand.  But I did not want to dominate him--not yet.  Instead, I wanted to see if he could get me in a hold--and whether I could get myself out.

I soon got my wish as I gave up my back and he worked to clamp a choke-hold on me.  I felt him squeeze his muscular body up against mine--his chest tight against my back--his arm around my neck.  There was something akin to elation in him.  I could feel it.  He was sure that he had me.  But I worked on his arms with my own and was able to force him to release the choke.  That was what I'd been looking for.

He could trap me.  But I could escape.

Slowly I pulled his arm away from my neck and then I turned into him, catching him off balance.  He tumbled over backwards, me on top, and I trapped him against the mats.  I felt his chest against mine, our fingers interlaced.  He would not look at me.  Instead, he turned his face away to the left and then the right.  He did not want to admit that I had him, and meeting my eyes would surely do just that.  Instead, he tried, foolishly, to force me off using just his arms.  It was foolish not because I was so strong.  Rather it was foolish because there were more sure ways of forcing someone off of your chest.  Feeling his mounting frustration, I rolled to one side and let him work me over.  This could go on all night.

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