Sweat beaded on Ivan's skin. He climbed the stairs to his bedroom. The midnight run had been a good one, one that would put his weight at 130 pounds. By morning, he'd be closer to 129¼. By weigh-ins he'd be right on weight.
He'd stay at 129 pounds for the rest of the season. He hadn't told McClellan or his father, and wouldn't until morning, relishing the idea that the 135-pounders at the tournament would be thanking God when they found out, while the 129-pounders would be scared as hell.
Switching on the bedroom light, Ivan listened for his father downstairs, then closed his door. He walked to his bed and reached under the mattress. In his hand, he held the application for Western Arizona University.
Attached was a note from Coach Riker, wishing him good luck for the season. Ivan fixed on the signature, George Riker. The "Gainesville Grappler," a nickname he earned as the winningest high school coach in the state of Florida.
But it was at Western Arizona where Riker had secured his legend. It was Riker who turned the university's nearly defunct Wrestling program into an NCAA contender, who guided three wrestlers to national tides, who made the upper echelon of collegiate programs—the Iowas, Nebraskas, and Oklahoma States of the world—sit up and take notice. In a fitting tribute, Wrestling USA called Riker "the Dan Gable of the West." Ivan received recruiting letters from dozens of college coaches across the country. None was as important as this one.
A drop of sweat fell on the envelope, smudging Ivan's name. Then another.
This is gonna get me out of Lennings. That's what it's gonna do. Get me away from McClellan, from Holt, from all this crap.
He reached inside the application's envelope and pulled out the essay sheets and personal-information request form.
But a familiar fear stopped him. I can't do it, he thought. Maybe, he worried, I'll never be able to do it. Without another thought, Ivan slid the pages back into the envelope and the envelope, once again, under the mattress.