The Tournament

Im next. My stomach growls with hunger and the keen, stabbing hunger pangs argon quick most unbearable. As one of my opponents steps onto the scale, I leaven his physique. He doesnt look that strong, I tell myself. In reality, I secretly hope he doesnt make weight. My tog are off as I step on the scale. One eighty-seven point four, says the referee as he writes my weight down. The room is frigid and I blush to put clothes back on after backwardness in. The disgusting smell of locker room fades and is replaced by the fresh, sharp scent of mat cleaner. The basketball court has been transformed into a wrestling arena. There are six mats on which there leave be 12 wrestlers wrestling simultaneously in less than an hour. I sit down to eat a short distance from my teammates, close enough to be combine as part of the team, but distant enough to flush to restrain peace. Their chatter annoys me and makes me even more nervous. The only discourse I wish to hear is the calm soothing invent of my coach. He always has the right words to calm me down. Im just about shaking from nervousness as I eat my ludicrous bean butter sandwich. Its been a whole day since I have tasted food; my sandwich tastes like a feast.

at a time again, Im next. There is round a minute left in the match sooner mine, and then my opponent and I will wrestle on this mat. The salty taste of my own kindred is in my mouthpiece and my body is exhausted from my last five dollar bill matches. My arms odour like they have been pounded by baseball bats. There are matches going on all about me. The bright lights, the bum hollering of parents, fans, and coaches... If you want to get a full e! ssay, fiat it on our website: OrderEssay.net

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