Opinions

Examining our own mistakes is important, even when it hurts to watch

I just want to know what is wrong with me.

I lie in the emergency room, unsure which is more stiff, the hospital bed or my recently embattled back. I scan the eggshell-colored exam room, from a poster warning folks to get their flu shot, to my parents, to my twin brother Trevor, to Darin. Their faces mirror the same expression, sympathetic eyes framed with furrowed eyebrows. We are awaiting the doctor's diagnosis. I want to ease the anxiety. I am also wildly curious about the incident that only minutes before had doomed me to this annoyingly uncomfortable hospital bed.

"Mama, can I watch the video?" I ask.

"Are you sure, Deedee?" my mother replies.

"Are you kidding me? Of course I want to watch it!"

At first, Mama My Eternal Protector remains vigilantly reluctant, hiding the camera bag behind her. Additional persuasion from my brother and me, The Injured One, convinces her to hand it over.

I press play.

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The recording launches with two high school wrestlers at the center of the mat. My maroon and gold wrestling singlet etches Mt. Edgecumbe down the back, the state-run boarding high school in Sitka, Alaska. My feet, ensconced in my flashy gold wrestling shoes, were designed by the Olympic wrestler Jordan Borroughs. The sole of each shoe carries the words, "Dream it. Do It."

I strap on my green anklet. My opponent fastens his red anklet. He's in a maroon singlet, one of his school's team colors in Shaktoolik, a coastal village on Norton Sound about 260 miles from Nome in Western Alaska. Here we meet, at the center of Mat 3 at Alaska's largest 1,2,3-A wrestling tournament of the year, the Lime Solar/ACS Invitational held at Anchorage Christian Schools in Anchorage. I look my opponent up and down. I already had studied him wrestling earlier in the day. I know from his earlier matches he will try to "throw head and arms," a move most coaches discourage because it is easy to defend. This gives me confidence.

"Shake hands," says the referee, and we comply.

His handshake is too tight, as if trying to intimidate me. Not today, I think. The whistle blows. The match starts. I circle in my stance, fighting for wrist control using my forehead to initiate head pressure. I set up my opening and shoot a high crotch. Then I switch to a double leg take-down.

"Two points. Green," the referee signals to the score table.

Good, I am in the lead.

I work to break him down to his stomach. I throw in a half nelson. This turns him to his back. The referee counts to five. The kid, like a fish, flops back onto his belly. I am rewarded three more points. I try to turn him again but am unsuccessful. He fights my hands and gets a reversal, worth two points. Quickly, though, I stand up, earning one escape point. Again, we are both on our feet in neutral position. The score stands at 6 to 2 in my favor as the period ends.

The referee flips his coin: Red. My opponent defers to the third round. Now it is my choice. I look at my coach and choose down, like always. I set up on my hands and knees on the lines. As I await the ref's whistle, my attention focuses on the crowd. Many people have gathered around the edge of the mat. Perhaps the match's first period attracted some attention, who knows.

I snap back to my opponent as he covers me. The whistle rings out. This time, my opponent breaks me down on the whistle. I work back up to my base, but I am broken down again. He keeps me down for about a minute until I finally gain control at his hand on my waist. I manage a stand-up and then break free. The ref rewards me with one point. The score now stands at 7 to 2, but I still stay in position because a full period and a half remains, an eternity in wrestling.

We circle around the mat nearest to the score table. He takes a shot. I sprawl in defense, but I'm having trouble circling behind, so I peel off his hands and reset. Again, we are both on our feet. Then he shoots again. This time, I cross-face instead of sprawl. This is my mistake, I conclude, as I study the recording.

I pause the video camera, unsure if I want to watch what is going to happen next. Trevor, my twin, huddled next to me, is watching along.

"Come on, Deedee," chides Trevor. "Just play it."

He is eager to see what he'd missed because he himself had been wrestling in another gym nearby when it happened.

I press play.

My opponent's hands are wrapped around my legs. I cannot peel them off. He lifts me high in the air, over his back. Suddenly, he drops me! I fly through the air in an uncontrollable flail. Then I land.

Hard.

My head and feet hit the mat simultaneously, my stomach still in the air and the highest part of my body in the air. A deep "ooOooo" wafts through the air from the crowd as the ref instantly stops the match. My opponent is pushed off of me. I lie on the mat.

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I cannot move. My mom's video recording stops.

In the hospital, I grab my back, writhing in pain after trying to laugh. Unfortunately, or at least on this occasion, laughter does not prove the best medicine; however, time may well be the best medicine. Eventually the doctor appears with the results of my CT scan. I am advised to stay off the mats for almost a month, a huge portion of the season, before I can compete again.

Then, all I could do is wait.

Deirdre Creed wrote this story in a Kotzebue-based Chukchi College distance education class. Deirdre grew up in Kotzebue and attended Mt. Edgecumbe High School, where she was co-captain of the varsity cross-country and wrestling teams. The injury described in this story healed quicker than expected, so Deirdre went on to compete at the state wrestling tournament, the Arctic Winter Games in Fairbanks, and a national tournament in Reno. After wrestling mostly boys since second grade, today Deirdre is a freshman member of the women's wrestling squad at Warner Pacific College in Portland, Ore.

The preceding essay is part of a series written by volunteer students participating in the Chukchi College Honors Program, a dual-credit partnership between the Northwest Arctic Borough School District and Chukchi College, the Kotzebue branch of the University of Alaska Fairbanks. This essay is distributed by Chukchi News & Information Service, an award-winning publication project of Chukchi College.

The views expressed here are the writer's own and are not necessarily endorsed by Alaska Dispatch News, which welcomes a broad range of viewpoints. To submit a piece for consideration, email commentary(at)alaskadispatch.com.

Deirdre Creed

Deirdre Creed grew up in Kotzebue and is a 2014 graduate of Mt. Edgecumbe High School in Sitka, where she was co-captain of the varsity cross-country and wrestling teams. The injury described here healed quicker than expected, so she went on to compete at the state tournament last December, at the Arctic Winter Games in Fairbanks in March, and at a national tournament in Reno in April. After wrestling mostly boys since second grade, Deirdre joined the women’s wrestling squad this fall at Warner Pacific College.

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