By Dave Dyer

Staff Writer

It seems like I’ve done it again.

I failed to ride a unicycle and juggle tennis balls. I almost didn’t come out alive after trying my hand at roller derby.

What could I possibly do now that would be more dangerous?

The idea was given to me by Scarborough wrestling guru John Cole when he called me a couple of months ago to ask if I was interested in trying my hand at wrestling. We’re not talking about World Wrestling Entertainment, Stone Cold Steve Austin-style wrestling either, but actual wrestling.

Sure, why not?

My experience in the sport of wrestling basically consists of me being a wrestling dummy to one of my best friends, Garen Courtway, at Massabesic High School. I learned enough of the moves by watching him wrestle, as he won many tournaments and was one of the better wrestlers in the state.

After speaking with Cole, it was determined that I would practice a few times with the Scarborough High School wrestlers during their technique sessions at the high school before testing what I learned at the Tranch Memorial Tournament a couple weeks ago. The event is named after Capt. Dan Tranchemontagne. 

A former Scarborough High School math teacher, Tranchemontagne had a successful wrestling career at Sanford High School and the University of Southern Maine. After graduating college, Tranchemontagne was commissioned as a lieutenant in the Army Reserve.

During his time at Scarborough, Tranchemontagne started the wrestling program at Scarborough High School before being called into active duty in November of 2002, serving in Kuwait in support of Operation Iraqi Freedom. In 2004, Tranchemontagne was diagnosed with cancer and moved to the Walter Reed Memorial Hospital in Washington, D.C. He died on May 30, 2004 at the age of 33.

My training consisted of about two practices during the technique sessions, with students from kindergarten through high school. I was originally ready to train with the youth wrestlers, as I figured I had as much experience as they did, but much to my chagrin, I was to train with the high school wrestlers, who were more skilled and in much better shape than I was.

My first practice was tough but a good learning experience. Scarborough High School head coach Phil Hamilton taught us how to “shoot” or attack your opponent. I learned how to do grab a single leg on a shoot, in order to control the opponent, and felt like I did a decent job with that. I also learned a fireman’s carry, which quickly became my favorite take down because it was easy to do and fun to flip my opponent over.

The ugly part of practice was the repetitive work, as it forced me to realize just how out of shape I was. Running the same take downs over again helped make me better, but took the wind out of me. After we learned the moves, we practiced some live wrestling in one-minute spurts. I did OK for about two minutes before I felt like I might be sick. I decided it was a good time to take a break, and spent the rest of the practice watching and learning moves.

The second practice was about the same as the first one, in the sense that I learned new moves but at the same time had to take many breaks due to fatigue. With about a week before the tournament, I wasn’t exactly sure how I was going to survive a full wrestling match, but was determined to at least try it out.

I came to Scarborough High School early on the day of the tournament to get registered and to weigh in. When it came to my turn to step on the scale, it felt like I was a fish getting weighed before going to the market. The gentleman weighing me didn’t make me feel much better.

“How much do you think you weigh?” he said.

“205,” I said.

“208.8”

At least I was close.

After checking in, the next question in my mind involved who I would be wrestling. During registration, wrestlers were asked how many years they wrestled along with how much they weighed. My immediate thought was maybe I’ll be in a division of novices who weight about the same as me, and maybe I still had a shot of winning a medal.

That hope turned sour however when the brackets were revealed. As I was snacking on a bag of chips (sticking to my athletic diet), I realized I was in the same division as Hamilton. To give you an idea of my potential opponent, Hamilton was a three-year captain at the University of Southern Maine, and was the career leader in wins and takedowns during his time at USM. On top of that, his brother was also in the same division, and by looks alone, he appeared to be just as talented as his brother.

“Great,” I said as I looked at the brackets.

Thankfully, neither of them were my first opponent. That belonged to Nick Wells. I asked some of the high school wrestlers if they had any knowledge of him, but they didn’t. I was going to wrestle one of the more mysterious opponents at the tournament.

As it came near my turn to wrestle, I began to receive encouragement from some of the younger wrestlers, which was nice. One younger wrestler, Chris Tait, offered to be my coach during my match, which I gladly accepted. Anyone’s help would be helpful to me.

About two minutes before my match, I noticed a wrestler who was also getting ready, psyching himself up and hitting the wall with his fists. I immediately assumed this was Nick Wells. I felt that I might be in better shape than he was, and if I can just stay on the mat for a time, I can beat him, which started giving me confidence.

As my name was called, I made my way to the scorer’s table. So did the other wrestler, and a grin came across my face, as I now knew who my opponent was.

Wrong.

The other wrestler moved out of the way, and standing at the table waiting for me was the actual Nick Wells, a tall, muscular, scary looking kid. My grin immediately went to a frown.

The match started, and I tried my best to try to get a shot into him. All my attempts failed however, as Wells pinned me within two minutes of the match with what is known as a “Peterson,” basically consisting of a wrestler being directly on top of the other wrestler while pinning them. I didn’t stand a chance in the first match.

I made my way from the 100-degree gym to the cafeteria, which was much cooler. The tournament was double elimination, meaning I still had at least one more match. As I sat at a table cooling off, Wells came over and offered his handshake, along with some nice words, mentioning I did a good job for a first-timer. I appreciated the gesture, and asked Wells where he was from. He’s a sophomore at Oak Hill High School.

The only thought I had in my mind that time was that I just got beat by a polite 15 or 16-year old kid.

It would be a while before my next match, a long while. As in more than three hours. It brought back to me the time when my friend Garen was wrestling at the state championship tournament in Augusta, and we sat in the Augusta Civic Center for about 10 hours. I give credit to both wrestlers and parents for being able to deal with it for that long.

As if destiny was taking a hand, my next match was against Nick Walker, who was a wrestler from Massabesic High School, my alma mater. How can I beat a fellow Mustang?

For my own sake, I didn’t have to make that decision. Walker beat me in the first period with a half nelson. At the point I was pinned, I didn’t have any gas left in the tank. My worry of being out of shape came true as I was knocked out of the tournament.

Thankfully, I left the tournament with my pride intact, as many of the wrestlers said I did well. My hats off to wrestlers. I honestly can’t think of another sport that is tougher. But if there is one out there, I’ll find it, and try it out.

Staff writer Dave Dyer can be reached at 282-4337 ext. 219