Wrestling with PJ
Few events in my life have been more life changing than a canoeing trip I took in West Virginia between my junior and senior years at Ohio State in August of 2006. I might never have written about it if I hadn’t taken a night course, Psychological Writing 429, three weeks later. It was taught by a congenial silver haired Episcopalian minister. He inspired me to write about things I had never told another living soul. Our major course assignment was to “Write about something that happened in our life that we think might have significant ramifications in our future careers as a psychologist.” It was due at the end of the semester and had to be written in ‘story form’. It counted for 85% of our course grade. He promised whatever we wrote would have the strictest confidentiality of a Catholic confessional.. What’s more we had to grade it ourselves. How the Hell could I place a grade on something so personal? I resented having to do it. But I probably shouldn’t complain. What follows is the most significant, emotional, exhilarating, and honest thing I’ve ever written.
CHAPTER ONE
I pulled into a half filled gravel parking lot of the Tioga River Boat Rentals in West Virginia shortly after 7 A.M. on a sunny, breezy, Monday morning. Inside a young athletic teenager maybe fifteen or sixteen in cutoffs and a white tank top spotted me and held up a finger acknowledging my presence. As far as I could tell he was the only one handling the morning rush. He excused himself from a group of customers deep in debate about something.
“Hi, What can I do for you?”
“I’d like to rent a canoe for a day or two.” Summer vacation was coming to an end. I was on my way to spend a week with Aunt Ellen and my young cousins in Chapel Hill, But I wanted some ‘alone time’ first. He pointed to the counter next to an old fashioned cash bronze register.
“Fill out the three blue forms. Signal me when you’re finished, OK? It might be a little while before I can get back to you. I’m the only one here right now.” I finished the forms and started browsing. He caught one of my glances, and held up an apologetic hand which I waved off, indicating I wasn’t in any hurry. I studied him for a bit; a few inches shy of six feet, maybe 140 pounds. He had dark brown hair, intense brown eyes, and a handsome face with a quick and easy smile. He probably drove the girls crazy. His light grey tank top said ‘Delphi Wrestling’ in dark green letters and a depiction of the famous Greek statue, The Wrestlers, albeit wearing singlets, not naked. I caught him glancing at me several times. A few minutes later he came up to me. “Sorry to keep you waiting. There’s supposed to be three of us here.”
Just then, as if on cue, an elderly, wobbly, obese white haired man with a temporary red nose emerged from a room behind the counter followed by a sandy haired kid built like a Mac truck. “Is everything under control, Donny?”
“Yes sir, No problems”. He gave me a quick knowing smile tapping his nose.
Donny checked my forms and took my credit card. “I’ll help you load, if you can wait. I have to get my boss caught up to speed first. It shouldn’t take too long.”
Five minutes later we were packing the canoe. “ Where are you going?”
“I’m not sure, but I need to be back here by tomorrow afternoon. I might camp out. Got any suggestions?”
He pulled a river map from his back pocket.
“This is yours. You can go either way from here. Upstream is more challenging. Have you done much canoeing?” I said yes, which was a lie. Without looking at me he said, “Then you could handle it easy. It’s pretty deserted and rugged. The water level is down, so watch out for rocks here, and here. There’s a lot of undergrowth, and only a few places to beach the canoe if you’re going to camp out.” He circled several locations and pointed to one. “This is the best.” He circled it twice. I live 2 miles from here in Delphi. There’s good fishing and a small swimming beach. “Now, downstream is a lot easier. Most people choose it. There’s two river campsites if you want……“
I interrupted him, “You sold me on upstream, Donny.”
”Cool!” He pointed again to the double circled location. “If you’re gonna campout, do it here.”
“Is there anything to do in Delphi.?”
He laughed, “Never. But it’s got a general store and a restaurant…” He paused. “There’s a county fair and old time carnival going on right now in Summerville. It’s about a half hour away.” He paused again, looking me over with heightened interest, “Do you wrestle? You look like one.”
“I wrestled in high school. Why?”
His eyes brightened, “Just a minute, I’ll be right back.” He ran to the boat shop and returned with a brochure and a flyer sheet. “This is about the State Fair and Carnival. And here’s our flyer about the wrestling tent. Me and my brother are in it. You’d wrestle PJ. You’re his weight. If you beat him you could win some money. Did you see me looking at you a few times in the store?”
I grinned. “I wondered why you were checking me out.”
He laughed. “At first I thought you were my brother. You two could be twins except for the eyes.”
“You say you’re in it?”
‘Yep. I’ve had eleven matches so far and only lost two. I’ve won $85. I don’t know how much PJ has won, but it’s a lot more. He’s undefeated.” He shot me a devilish grin.. “I’d pay to see him lose .”
I read the wrestling flyer with interest: ‘Old Time Carnival Wrestling: Challenge a friend in our ring. Or take on one of our Delphi wrestlers within ten pounds of your weight. There’s Free Style, Folk Style, or modified MMA. All matches are refereed for safety. A $20 ‘ring use’ donation goes to our Delphi program. Or, just come and watch the matches for a $5 admission fee good for all day. Tables are available for eating. The tent is located just outside the main Carnival entrance.’
The idea of stakes sparked my interest. “So, how do I win money?”.
“You bet on yourself. A lot of wrestlers and their friends do it under the table, mostly small wagers just so you have some bragging rights. It sorta makes it more exciting.”
“Is it legal?”
“Not really, but no one says anything.
“Do you have any matches tonight?”
“Probably, if we go.”
“How about your brother””
“He always has matches whenever he’s there. Everyone wants a piece of him.
I winked. “How am I going to win money if he’s not there?” .
Donny laughed, “Oh, someone will fill in for him,… and believe me, you’ll stand a better chance. He placed second at states this year.” He took my flyer and wrote a cell number on the back. “Give me a call if you want to go. You can ride with us, or I can find you one.”
I gave him $5 and thanked him for helping me load the canoe. Then I drove my Highlander back to the parking area where I reread the flyer twice, the second time massaging my bicep and forearm.
It was early afternoon when I rounded the last bend in the river which led to the Delphi beach landing area that Donny had double circled for me. A father and son were fishing from an otherwise deserted riverbank. As I got closer the father turned into an18 or 19 year old teenager. We were so similar I thought he must be Donny’s brother. It was easy to see how we could be confused for twins. He was a lean, chiseled 175 pounds, a little over 6 feet, with broad shoulders and a small waist. We even sported the same shaggy haircut. We stared at each other. The younger boy pointed at me saying something to the older boy who nodded and tussled the youngster’s hair. We waved as I passed. The boy pointed at me again, this time flexing his bicep, then pointed to the teenager who cast his fly line in my direction and began reeling it in. I beached my canoe fifty yards upstream from them, where I could study the teenager more closely.. I unloaded my fishing gear and a canvas chair, and settled down pretending to fish.
The boy’s mouth was moving nonstop while glancing at me. Finally, my twin walked to his 150 pickup, grabbed a fishing bow from the truck bed, and started prowling the shoreline coming in my direction. He shot several times. His back muscles rippling. I got the impression he was fishing for something not in the water. If he was, two could play this game. I got up and pulled the heavily loaded canoe further ashore. When I sat down again, he was heading back the way he came. He said something to the boy who came trotting over to me.
I asked, “Hi, are you catching any fish?”
He ignored my question and hesitated before saying, “Hi, I’m Kenny. My brother sent me over here. He wants to wrestle you.”
“He what?”.
This had to be PJ, but I was caught so completely off guard I said, “Tell him I’m just here to fish.”
Kenny frowned and walked slowly back to his brother who said something to him. He came running back. “He says if you change your mind come on over. I’ll bet you $5 he can beat you.”
What luck! I had a second chance.“OK. Tell him I’ll think about it.”
I waited a little bit before putting down my rod and headed over. My twin was calmly studying me as I approached. Without taking his eyes off me he smiled and said in a casual, slightly deeper voice than mine, “Kenny, go check the moss for sticks and stones”.
Kenny sprinted to a low flat topped hill further downstream.
I approached my twin. “Hi, how’s it going?” I asked.
“We’ve been here couple hours, and only had one nibble. Two, if I count you.”
“I’m Mike.” I held out my hand.
“I’m PJ.” He set down the rod. You can tell a lot from a handshake. His was firm, bordering on overly firm. We held it a bit too long, like our stare when I was in the canoe.
There’s truth to the old saying, the eyes are the windows to our souls. It was the only noticeable difference between us. Mine were a clear blue. His were a deep penetrating brown. As we shook hands, his casual unblinking gaze seemed to say, ‘I’m in no hurry. You’re going to like me.’
“So, what’s this about wrestling?”
“My brother wants to see me in action. I’m wrestling at the carnival and I won’t let him watch. The minute you rounded the bend he started hounding me to watch us go at it. He thinks you’d make good competition. …… And well, I’m a little bored. You look like you wrestle.”
“I went to states for two years.”
His eyes sparkled and narrowed slightly and broke into a challenging smile. “I made it to states for three. I’m wrestling all styles at the carnival.”
My dopamine floodgates opened as they always did at the thought of a physical contest. I took a chance. “I’m
into submission these days, how about you?”
His smile broadened into a grin. “I was hoping you’d say that. I’ll let you set the rules.”
“I read your brochure at the boat rental. How about using those?”
“Perfect,” he said standing up rubbing his hands together. “Wanna make it a little more interesting? Say a $20 bet?”
“Kenny wants to bet me $5 I’ll lose.”
When I hesitated he said playfully, “I promise I won’t hurt you too much.”
I fixed him with a wry smile, trying to match his good-natured smack talk, “A submission match without any pain doesn’t sound like much of a challenge, does it?” I was digging a hole. I was good at submission wrestling, but hadn’t done much of it since my freshman year of college. “What the Hell, put me down for a Jackson.”
At that moment Kenny yelled from the hill., “Are you gonna fight?”
PJ yelled back “Get my bag from the truck.” Kenny jumped up and gave a double fist pump, before taking off at a dead run for the pickup. PJ turned to me and said, “I’ll be waiting for you up there.”
I headed to my canoe adrenaline and dopamine pumping through my veins. I put on my swimming brief, and headed for the hill.
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