Im next. My stomach growls with hunger and the sharp, stabbing hunger pangs argon quick most unbearable. As one of my opponents steps onto the scale, I study his physique. He doesnt look that strong, I tell myself. In reality, I secretly hope he doesnt make weight. My utilization 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 boot to put clothes back on after slowdown 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 will 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 occupy as part of the team, but distant enough to invasion to restrain peace. Their chatter annoys me and makes me even more nervous. The only declaim I wish to hear is the cal m soothing declaim of my coach. He always has the right words to calm me down. Im roughly shaking from nervousness as I eat my unquiet bean butter sandwich. Its been a whole day since I have tasted food; my sandwich tastes like a feast.
erst 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 kin is in my mouthpiece and my body is exhausted from my last 5 matches. My arms odour like they have been pounded by baseball bats. There are matches going on all close to me. The bright lights, the bum hollering of parents, fa ns, and coaches... ! If you want to get a full essay, fiat it on our website:
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