LJ wrestling: 'Gotta serve somebody'

By Ed Piper

"Gotta serve somebody."  Bob Dylan

HOLTVILLE--Bob, real surname Zimmerman, wrote that even the President of the United States has to answer to someone, whether it be a higher power or a mortal superior.

The nine La Jolla High wrestlers who traveled to Holtville Friday morning, Jan. 29, found out that truth, if they hadn't before. In a premier tournament fielding an average of 21 grapplers per weight class, most went down early.

"Take two lumps and see me in the morning."

That was the prescription for all but two of the noteworthy nine representing the Vikings, as they took two losses and an exit card to the "Hard Luck Bracket" the next day.

But there was no shame in that. Heck, with participation points for just competing in the Holtville Wrestling Tournament, drawing wrestlers from all over the San Diego area, the tourney also guarantees anybody who shows up a minimum of four matches over the two days of the tournament. That's a heck of a lot of good experience under game conditions. You can't help but develop.

Plus the salve to heal all wounds: Being hosted for dinner in the home of a local family--usually the family of a Holtville Viking wrestler (yeah, they're the Vikings, too)--as the guest of honor. Then a night's sleep at their pad.

I interacted with some of the nine the next morning before competition resumed, and they didn't indicate or show any signs that they hadn't slept well in someone else's bed. That's harder to do as you get older.

Elliot Austin, the 115-pounder, said, "Oh, it was great." He apparently slept like a baby after eating some of Stella Chavez's roast for dinner the night before at the family ranch.

Christophe Naviaux, at 148 pounds, wasn't showing any ill effects before his consolation match soon after 9 a.m. He was in good spirits, a good frame of mind, talkative, outgoing, relaxed, looking forward to his match-up.

Just being around such energy and positivity lifted one's spirits.

I get the idea Chris Abarca, the 184-pounder, isn't going to talk anyone's leg off. Not at this point. But Chris was Chris Saturday morning, warming up, moving around, soaking in the sounds that a filled high school gym has reverberating around under a domed ceiling.

The big excitement Saturday, though by early on each of the nine was either out of the competitive bracket or wrestling exhibition matches in the Hard Luck Bracket, was the semifinal matches starting at 11 a.m., with the finals coming in the evening, hours away. After consolation and Hard Luck matches as a warm-up for the first two hours, the five mats were cleared. The referees came back out in pairs--I had never seen this in my limited wrestling viewing background. And the wrestlers who had survived this far faced off. Four remaining in each of the 14 brackets.

You looked around the floor level of the Holtville High gym--the permanent stands are on the south side, rising above the gym floor--and many of the 27 participating schools' coaches had come down to watch the action from close up.

But as a general sports enthusiast who came to depict and describe the experiences of the La Jolla nine and their five coaches and families, my interest moved to what these semifinal matches, with none of them participating but wanting to see the top dogs, meant to them.

Outside, the desert wind was picking up and the dust was flying around the 69th Annual Carrot Festival five blocks away.