Wrestling Match Descriptive Essay
I realize what I had actually gotten myself into as I sit on the mats that I had grown to know so well. I would have to endure, another time, another six minutes of incredible brutality. As I sat there eating my sandwich that I had prepared the night before, I think about how my team, and more importantly, how I would do in my wrestling match later that night. I had dedicated the last several months to this sport by watching my weight and practicing several hours after school and on the weekends. My last match had taken a lot out of me, and giving my neck a burning pain for the next couple of days whenever I moved my head. Nevertheless, I still managed to win my match despite my neck that had been twisted around like a bottle cap. Wrestling matches are very intense and winning is worth the effort. Our team captain yells at us to start warming up, and we slowly stood and start to make our way out of the gym unhurriedly. The room was dark and murky, the lights were low, and as my team walked into the shadows, I joined them. The captains started to jog around the room to get their blood flowing, and gradually, like lemmings, followed their example. On the walls of the gym are names and port . . .
The referee raised my hand and I was declared the victor. We both stood slowly and shook hands wearily. The other team exploded up from their seats to applauded the victor. He continues his motivational bellows, but gets drowned out when the loud speakers ask every one to rise for the national anthem. The looks on their faces were filled with the rage of a savage beast and yet they were also filled with joy of their complete dominance in the sport. It would be so much easier and I would not have to deal with the throbbing pains going through my body. I was too, but it was time for me to start warming up for my match. raits of the legends that had wrestled before our time. I met my opponent and shook his hand, which was already wet with his own sweat and had calluses from many hours in the weight room. The chunky referee sprawled out on the mat and whacked the mat with his hand. I heard the crowd roar with enthusiasm as I tried to turn him to his back unsuccessfully. His opposition was just the reverse of himself; a brawny, hulking mountain of a man whose thick neck and rippling muscles seemed to intimidate Chester. After my match my coach told me I had been a little sloppy, but still aggressive, which was a good thing. I looked down at the black, tight-fitting spandex with a large H on my chest and hoped that it would not fail me now.
Common topics in this essay:
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Acceptance Essays
