The Imaginary Girlfriend Read Online Free PDF Page A

tournament—or even a starter on the Wisconsin team—but I know that I would have kept wrestling, and I would have stayed four years (maybe longer) in Madison; there’s no question that I would have graduated. But I was 19—Pittsburgh had accepted me, and Wisconsin had told me to wait and see. When you’re 19, you don’t want to “wait and see.”
    Coach Seabrooke warned me that I might be getting in over my head at Pitt; I should go to a smaller school, I should try a less competitive wrestling program—these were Ted’s recommendations. But when he couldn’t persuade me, he wrote to Rex Peery, the coach at Pittsburgh, giving Rex his evaluation of me. Knowing Ted, I presume he didn’t exaggerate my potential. Coach Peery was prepared for me to be no better than “halfway decent”; as it turned out, I was worse than that.
    Rex Peery was an Oklahoma boy and a former three-time national champion—even his
sons
had been three-time NCAA champions—and Pittsburgh was loaded with future Ail-Americans the year I arrived. Dick Martin, the 123-pounder, would be an All-American; Darrel Kelvington (147) and Timothy Gay (157) and Jim Harrison (167) and Kenneth Barr (177) would also be All-Americans. (Harrison was a future national champion; he would win an NCAA title in 1963.) Then there were Zolikoff at 137 and Jeffries at 191 and Ware at Unlimited—I once could recite that lineup in my sleep.
    Sherman Moyer, the Pitt 130-pounder and my most frequent workout partner, was married and had completed his military service. Sherm was reputed to smoke one cigarette a week—usually in a toilet stall before his match (at least this was the only place I ever
saw
him smoke)—and he was devastating in the top position. Sherman Moyer was simply impossible to get away from; he could ride me, and did, all afternoon. At the time, it was small consolation to me that Moyer’s abilities as a “rider” led him to defeat Syracuse All-American Sonny Greenhalgh twice in that season. (Sonny and I still talk about Moyer.) Nor was it greatly consoling that Moyer was a gentleman; he was always decent and good-humored to me—ever friendly—while grinding me into the mat.
    As for my fellow freshmen at Pitt, they were a tough lot, too—especially in and around my weight class. Tom Heniff was from Illinois and Mike Johnson was from Pennsylvania; they were often my workout partners—and Moyer’s. Heniff and I were 130-pounders—I had dropped three pounds from my Exeter weight class—and Johnson, who wrestled at 123 and at 130, could take apart anyone in the wrestling room up to about 140 or 150 pounds. In the next year, Mike Johnson would be an All-American; he was an NCAA runner-up in ‘63. (Johnson is a high-school wrestling coach in Du Bois, Pennsylvania, today.)
    I also worked out with a couple of freshman 137-pounders: a redhead named Carswell or Caswell, who was pound for pound the strongest person I ever wrestled—I remember him as about five feet five with a 60-inch chest—and a smiling guy named Warnick who had an arm-drag that left you looking for your arm. The freshman recruit at 147 pounds was (I believe) a guy named Frank O’Korn; I don’t remember him well—I must have wrestled him only occasionally. At 157 pounds, John Carr had won a New England Interscholastic title as a PG at Cheshire. (Carr would transfer from Pitt to Wilkes; until recently, he was a high-school coach in the Wilkes-Barre area of Pennsylvania.) And topping off that freshman class was a highly recruited 177-pounder named Lee Hall.
    I knew they would be good—I had gone there because they were the best. But in the Pittsburgh wrestling room, in the ‘62 season, there was not one wrestler I could beat—not
one.
    My technique was not the problem; I had been well coached at Exeter. The problem in Pittsburgh was that my limited athletic ability