The Heat Of The Dojo From Outside The Door

I thought he was going to rip my whole body apart and slap me around on the mat. I knew that wasn't the right way to think going into a match so I kept telling myself that I would win. "Petro-Risner, Mayberry-Hotchkiss, mat 4," said the announcer. With my legs wobbling arms tingling and heart pumping away, I stepped out onto the mat. The referee got ready, and there it was, the whistle. I sat there crouched down, ready to shoot in for the first take down, but for some reason I couldn't. We tied up head to head. I could feel his strength by his tight grip. We separated and I suddenly got a big burst of adrenaline. Boom, I shot in at his legs and two points went to me with the first take down. After that take down, everything I thought before was gone. I wasn't afraid of this kid. I was just letting myself think I was. I knew that I was not going to lose this match. When the clock ran out in the third period, the score was 9-8 in my favor. I did it. I defeated Jeff Petro in a tough 6 minutes of wrestling. It was Probably the toughest match I've ever had to wrestle.

At the start of each wrestling match, the opponents would cover themselves with olive oil, and some form of dust or dirt, because it made grappling easier in the muddy wrestling pits. Some of the only rules of the game were no punching, gouging out opponents eyes, tripping or biting your opponent. When one of the wrestlers concedes, he would raise his hand with the index finger raised to show that he concedes, or quits. These were the only rules in the game. The match would continue until one player can not continue, or one of them concedes.

So I walk to the center of the mat and all the nerves go away.And so I wait for my opponent he also starts walking to the center of the mat and so does the ref. And I shake his hand and he blows the whistle.

Thump. Thump. The beating of my heart increased. Thump, thump thump. What was I feeling? Why am I under so much pressure? These were all questions that I had asked myself prior to my first Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu match. All of my hard work, an entire year of consistent training, led up to this moment – the second I would have to step on to the match and prove myself.

As I stepped on the bright red and black mats, I could hear my heart beating through my chest. I sat there stretching my arms while attempting to memorize my techniques. The thought of forgetting a technique or part of my form paralyzed me with fear. Uncertainty ran through my head. Questions like, “what if I freeze and don’t know what to do?” and, “what if I can’t defend myself from the black belts?”. I began to regret spending time outside instead of practicing more. I knew I had to perform the techniques as best as I could. A few minutes passed, all five of the black belts

This is a date that is marked on everyone’s calendar: fans, wrestlers, and coaches. We talk about this match every year; it is a must win. In the center of this arena is a black and red wrestling mat in the shape of a square, around 12 meters long on each side. The bleachers are pulled out waiting to be filled by fans. But at the moment they are filled with famished men

Win points you have to hit certain parts of the other person's body parts to get points, Like for instance the head was like 4 points and the arm was 2 points. Ok back to the story, so I was really far into the tournament and I was up against a red belt which is 2 belts higher than me, so this kid new more moves than me which was his or her advantage. I was using all my effort to beat this person and using mostly headshots to get more points. Eventually I was tied with my opponent at 10 points and their was only a couple more seconds left and I swung my foot and hit the other person on the head and got 4 points, then the match ended and I won and was moving onto the finals. As I was warming up my teacher came over to me and told me the next opponent is a very tall and was a black belt. As the match started I was looking up at the tall man who was probably like 5ft and 10 inches. I started off the match ok but my opponent kept blocking all my moves and attacking me with strong blows that pushed me back to the edge of the ring. If I was pushed out of the ring I would

It was a cold night during the winter at Dover High School. The Central York Middle School wrestling team was going against Dovers wrestling team.This would be Central's first match of the winter season. Everyone on the bus was excited for the match knowing that we could win because we practiced real hard. When we entered the school everyone got quiet and walked to the locker rooms to change. When we got inside the locker rooms everyone started getting dressed and got weighed in. I was lucky because i made weight by a pound under. This would be my first match ever so I wanted to start off winning not loosing.

When I look down, all I observe is the color red on a rugged surface. Thin white lines separate me from my competition. I glance to my left. I glance to my right. I notice the various colored shirts alongside me. They all crave the finish line. I grasp the famous red and blue baton in my hands. No one knows my name or my story, the only article they identify is the number pinned on my Mahwah Jersey. We all restlessly stand in position while hundreds of people fill the stadium. The gun is raised, I look up to the sky and pray for wings on my feet, which is the same wish I have for every race. The gunshot sounds through the air and in a blink of an eye it’s over. It's not when you finish or what towns you beat, it's about, the experience you share with those three other girls waiting on you and the baton.

Six wrestling mats mantled the floors, three in each of the two gymnasiums. A battle was being fought on every one, each and every soldier using all of the weapons in his arsenal. The hands of the victors were raised while the heads of the defeated drooped. The bleachers were packed with spectators. In the thin corridor that separated the two gymnasiums, people shuffled through, walking, talking, and laughing. Wrestlers occupied the indoor track that encircled the upper floor of the gymnasiums. Awaiting their next battle, the warriors prepared their minds and bodies.

The callenge day arrived and the match began. The machibe was ahead of John, but he continued fighting, and told me to give him to hammers because he was only warming up. A second

At the age of four I followed in my father's footsteps and became the karate kid he always aspired for me to be, the only problem was… I was a girl… I was young… and I was in a room full of boys. My sparring equipment may have seemed enormous in comparison to my 5’2 size, but I still walked through the doors of the studio ready to push myself harder than I had the week before. My karate instructor, Master Alegria, always told us “we learn to fight so we don’t have to fight.” A bloody nose hurt at the moment, but it taught me lessons I can utilize for the remainder of my life. I learned about self defense, but most

“battle royal, “ a free-for-all in which they pummel each other to the drunken shouts of the

In the arena, there will be betrayal. Hearts will be broken. Death will be essential. And millions of eyes will be watching you every step of the way.

I land blow after blow. I can’t believe it I’m fighting Mike Tyson and actually doing well. I go for an uppercut and Mike goes down. The crowd is silent in awe, this is the first time he has gone down, ever. One tiny kid put Mike Tyson down. Mike gets up but he looks shaken. I know I have him. He goes in for a haymaker and I dodge and come back with a uppercut and he goes down again. That’s two. One more and it’s a TKO. I can do it. Mike stands up he looks enraged. He looks as if I have just caused his death as a champ and he does not like it. He retaliates with a flurry of blows. Each blow hits me. There’s the pain I’ve been hiding from, it feels like I just went through a washing machine filled with bricks. I fall. No, I can’t lose, not now. I hear, “...7,...8.” I can’t do this, but I have to try at 9 I’m up. I crack my neck, shake off, and put out my glove and call him over. He goes in for a final punch but I’m too quick. One sharp blow to the stomach and he’s out. TKO. I’ve done it, I’m the champion. Doc is over in the corner screaming and cheering, Mike splayed out on the mat, and me, well, I’m just basking the glory that I beat Mike Tyson. And they said it couldn’t be