Feb 1988: Gable naps in 150-pounder's bed

I won 1 and lost 2 at the Michigan Open freestyle tourney. I've got to get tougher.

I wrestled Terry Brands today. He kills me on control situations--pummeling for inside ties, etc. I did, however, score some points on him. I hit that Randy Lewis lace-leg throw on him twice--right to his f---ing back. I had him in position for headlocks several times but I never did get one. He does leave himself open for some pancake-type stuff, if I could just capitalize on it.

I talked to Julie tonight. I asked her if she wanted to go out this week. She said she'd like to if she could find the time. But I know she went out drinking with her friends this past weekend, so...I don't know, I think maybe we're coming to the end of the road here. I know she's pressured for time. Maybe bringing her to the Heff House in daylight was not a good idea. Probably scared the shit out of her.

F--- it. Either she likes me or she doesn't.

The team lost to Penn State on Saturday. I just don't see how we can win NCAAs. Martin, Melchiore, Carpenter, Heffernan, and Simpson all have a shot at placing. Sidlinger should place, and Penrith and Alger should win. But 142 and 167 are out. Our last 2 duals are against Okie State and Iowa State. Realistically we could lose them both.

God, I think I'm getting better, but I just can't tell. I hate going into the wrestling room sometimes.

I think it's over with Julie. She was busy all this past week, and she says she's busy again this week, and she says she may be too busy to go see "Romeo and Juliet" with me. She was so gung-ho at first.

We had a bitch of a day. At 7am we ran sprints upstairs in the arena. I won the last one, much to my surprise. I usually just try to hang with the lead pack and end up anywhere from second to fifth, but I do it consistently; some of those guys will bust ass on one lap then fall back on the next one. On the second-to-last lap, Melchiore and Chris Gapin sprinted it out at the finish. I was a distant third. So on the final one I took over the lead about a third of the way in and kept waiting for somebody to pass me on the home stretch, but nobody ever did. That felt good.

This afternoon I wrestled Martin. He kicked the shit out of me--all outside singles to my left leg, just like at the beginning of the year. I scored a few takedowns, but they were all counters to his shots.

I'm getting burned out. I need a break. The problem is that all the freestyle meets are coming up in 1 or 2 months, but because I'm training with the collegiate team I'm peaking now. I'm already fading mentally.

Oh, God, am I tired. We had practice at 7am again. Running upstairs, followed by a 7-minute live match, followed by weights. Then at 3pm we went live in groups of 3 for 3 minutes at a time for over an hour. I'm exhausted.

The team lost to Okie State yesterday. Carpenter is going down to 142. I don't know how much it'll help, though, since we don't really have a good 150-pounder to replace him.

Today I wrestled with Tom Brands. He beat me, but I scored a few takedowns. I'm telegraphing my shots.

Davis still kicks the crap out of me. Penrith still kicks the crap out of me. Melchiore still kicks the crap out of me.

I never did call Julie again, nor will I.

Carpenter quit the team and moved out of the house. Apparently he cracked under pressure and went home to Ohio.

Another of the roommates, John Fleet, got kicked out of school for bad grades, so he's gone now too. Before he left he punched out a window, broke some cabinets in the kitchen, and partially kicked in a door. I don't think he ever wrestled a match while he was here--not even an open tournament. Suffice it to say he had some issues.

These next 2 weeks are supposed to be our toughest of the year. Today was pretty tough. I don't know, though, once you reach a certain point it doesn't really matter.

We've had 2-a-day practices since Tuesday, and I'm sore as hell. Tempers are starting to flare too. Everyone's on edge. I can barely move.

Here is what I do every day: get up at 6:30. Put on my jeans, gray sweatshirt, and coat and hat. Walk 2 blocks to the arena. Go to wrestling practice. Shower. Put on my jeans, gray sweatshirt, coat and hat. Go home and go to bed. Wake up at noon or 1pm. Put on my jeans, gray sweatshirt, coat and hat. Walk over to the arena. Mop the mats. Go to wrestling practice. Shower. Put on my jeans, gray sweatshirt, coat and hat. Go to work at Jimi-Changas or go to class, then go home and go to bed.

It's funny. Your hairstyle becomes unimportant. Your wardrobe becomes unimportant. Doing your laundry becomes unimportant. I've never been able to focus like this, because I've never been forced to. I like the feeling of getting better, getting stronger. But I hate being so sore, so tired, so frustrated. It's an interesting feeling.

The weirdest thing happened today. Gable came over to the Heff House and asked me where Carpenter's bedroom was. I showed him, and he went in. A couple hours later he came back out. He said he had taken a nap in Carpenter's bed to try to get inside his head, to figure out where he's coming from so that Gable can motivate him. Carpenter is apparently coming back.

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