The Growl!

Pinned

by Alfred C. Martino

©2005

Harcourt, Inc.

Pinned? That depends...

As a wrestling coach, referee and wrestling dad, I look forward hungrily to any media that involves the oldest, noblest sport in the world. From the wrestling flicks (Vision Quest, Reversal) to books (Glenn Anderson's A Brown Bag Life), stories about wrestling and the life lessons it teaches are part of my recreational reading fare, a far cry from the high school essays and term papers that usually make up my reading list.

The best wrestling stories are those that involve us with the lives of the main characters and their approach to the sport. Like spectators in the stands, we all have our reasons for wanting a certain wrestler to have his hand raised. To eliminate the human interest aspect of wrestling is tantamount to watching a tournament your wrestler isn't in. You might see some good wrestling, but the emotion is elsewhere.

Because every time a wrestler steps on the mat, he (or she, these days) brings his own personal story. Like Alfred Martino's Bobby Zane and Ivan Korske in Pinned, his first wrestling novel, wrestlers must deal with a whole list of mental conditions that can often dwarf the already brutal physical aspect of this sport.

Martino, a former high school wrestler from New Jersey, has an easy style that at once engages and involves the reader in the lives of his wrestlers. His knowledge of the sport is thorough, and his journeys into the psyches of his two main characters are compelling. Equally, his understanding of the ancillary stuff (the nasty stuff like the weight-cutting a casual observer does not see) is also presented with the special insight only a wrestler would know.

Perhaps more importantly, his knowledge of how adolescents think and relate to those around them is also accurate, and his depictions of family dynamics in both the Korske and Zane households are realistic to the point where the reader may wonder if Martino speaks from personal experience.

Martino does a good job involving the respective mentors--coaches and parents--of his two main characters, and he illuminates clearly the importance of the coach/wrestler relationship. Respect is the name of that game, blatantly evident in one case and conspicuously absent in the other.

His wrestling scenes, usually following exchanges are also well done, written almost as though Martino was matside writing for the Star-Ledger. His Jersey references to that paper and well-known schools and tournaments are sure to make connections with high school wrestlers who read this book.

Pinned is a worthwhile and quick read, though many may be disconcerted (as was this reviewer) by the ending. Because Martino has done such a good job of involving us with his characters, most readers will have chosen sides by the time the climactic match is about to take place.

Real wrestling fans have been anticipating a great match, ably described and exciting to read about, irrespective of who wins. We then want to see how our characters react. And in that regard, the reader may well feel that he is the one who has been Pinned--or, at the very least, reversed.

But maybe Martino is saving that for the sequel.

Kurt Epps is a former wrestler, current referee and high school coach and the director of a youth wrestling program in central NJ. He has been teaching high school English for 37 years. He lives in Perth Amboy with his wife, Donna and his three sons--all of whom wrestle.

A Brown Bag Life
by Glenn Anderson
©1998
Infinity Publishing
Haverford, PA
343 pages

Major Decision

Chateaubriand, this book ain't.

But that was never the goal of A Brown Bag Life. Like the icon it touts, Glenn Anderson's foray into the novel wars is rough around the edges--pugnacious even, in spots-- but it's a decent effort notwithstanding. And it's made even more palatable by the milieu in which its main character, Thomas McCloskey, operates--the world of high school wrestling. For those who don't know, that kind of wrestling is worlds away from the WWF garbage you see on TV. This here's real rasslin', and while it can be a thing of beauty to watch when done right, it's often ugly--like life itself.

Anderson, a former standout wrestler for NJ's Manasquan High School, paints a realistic--if at times aggravatingly incomplete--picture of a character who hints at being autobiographical. From McCloskey's absent father to his doting, but now dead, mother, to his first love lost, the main character seems to be in a spiral of bad luck accompanied by subsequently bad life decisions. That is until he gets called upon to get involved with a local--and horrendously bad-- high school wrestling team. The call stirs something inside him that is the essence of the wrestling mentality--grubby, sweaty, hard work for little glory, fickle fate and even more fleeting fame.

Anderson handles the wrestling aspects of the book superbly, as one would expect from a real wrestler who knows the sacrifices and demands of this brutal, unforgiving, yet most noble of sports. Being a wrestler is akin to being a Marine: you've either got the mentality or you don't. There is no room for, well, bullshit.

And in fact, when Anderson is talking wrestling--practice, matches, weigh-ins--the novel is top notch. Even in the off-mat issues that beset high school wrestlers and require the coach's intervention, Anderson paints a vivid picture. It is clear he knows his subjects--high school kids and wrestling.

More importantly, Anderson states plainly through his main character that a wrestling mentality can help kids deal with the takedowns and near falls life often throws their way. He's right about that, too, because there's no miracle ending for his gritty St. Agnes squad, though there is a rather predictable one for Thomas himself.

The author refers to his protagonist unfailingly as Thomas--never Tom or Tommy, which might have helped in bringing us closer him, and it is clear that Anderson wants to draw a parallel between the sport and the product it produced in McCloskey--dirty, sweaty, decidedly unpretty, but always on the side of nobility and moral good.

If the novel stalls at all (first a warning, then a one point penalty), it is during the non-wrestling scenes. The relationship between Thomas and his lost and rediscovered first love (Michelle, 29) is sometimes confusing, especially when her comely kid sister (Tamantha, 22) is thrown into the mix. The sis spends the entire novel hoping for her sister and Thomas to reunite, though Anderson hints strongly that she is interested in Thomas as more than a potential brother-in-law. The last scene of the book, expected by anyone with a pulse, seems contrived, out of character for this heady gal and based upon little other than a dream.

Anderson also takes us down occasional promising avenues that lead to dead ends. He forays into the lives of selected students, revealing the unsettling home lives of some, making us marvel that the kids turned out halfway decent at all. Yet there is often little beyond description and introduction with many of the more interesting cases.

In another tease, Thomas, finally finding purpose in his life through wrestling, suffers an injury that has the potential of being the book's best antagonist, but the issue dissipates without explanation.

Similarly, the introduction and development of a character named Shipley also carries great potential but withers on the vine when the kid inexplicably self-destructs on the mat. And the Tamantha-Thomas connection teases but nothing more, leading us to wonder why it was suggested so strongly and repeatedly in the first place.

The main story here is wrestling, though, and Anderson's use of plot and language, especially in some of his descriptions, shows flashes of real brightness if not outright brilliance, making the book an easy read. In terms of character, he succeeds in making Thomas McCloskey both appealing and repulsive-- a perfect model for the sport of wrestling.

According to Anderson, the book was spawned by a challenge from none other than George Plimpton who opined that there had never been a good book written about the sport of wrestling.

Like the wrestler he was, Anderson has stepped up on the mat and gone after it. The explanations about the sport--scoring, weighing in, rules, etc.-- should be easy enough for the general population to understand. But therein lies Anderson's problem.

The wrestling audience (and they are legion, by the way--far greater in numbers than the average person knows) will have no problem relating to this book. Wrestlers and their parents will identify, as will teachers and students. In fact, A Brown Bag Life might make a helluva reading assignment in a high school curriculum, F-words notwithstanding.

Whether the general, non-wrestling population will embrace the book is another story. If they don't, it won't be because Anderson's primer on wrestling has failed them; he's laid that out pretty clearly. He's also painted Thomas's sometimes glorious, often painful, sometimes stupid search for life's true meaning ably.

My test of a good protagonist is whether, at novel's end, I'd want to sit down and have a beer with him. I'd buy Thomas a beer (though I'd try to move him off Budweiser, brown bag life or not).

The book has flaws, for sure, but even a good steak can have some gristle, whether it's served on Royal Doulton China or in a brown paper bag.

This ref wouldn't call this book a fall (6 pts.) or even a tech-fall (5 pts.). But it certainly merits a major decision (4 pts.) based on Anderson's adroit handling of the high school wrestling scene and his courage to attempt a book based on it.

©Kurt E. Epps 2003

Reversal: Two points--but for whom?

A Grappler movie review

In amateur wrestling, two points are awarded to a controlled wrestler who "reverses" his opponent and gains control.

The title, therefore, has a double meaning which indicates that the outcome may not be what the viewer expects. Don't expect a movie about high school wrestling, though the sport plays a pivotal role. The film is about a standout high school wrestler's senior year and the life-changing events and relationships that direct his journey to adulthood.

Given the dearth of movies about --or media attention to-- the very emotional and competitive world of high school and youth wrestling, this much-hyped, much-anticipated movie featured some quality wrestling scenes--noticeably better than those of Vision Quest, but the film left this viewer a bit confused and somewhat underwhelmed.

Essentially, the story revolves around Leo Leone and his father/coach played by producer Jimi Petulla. Billed as a father-son love story, this autobiographical movie based on Petulla's life purports to be about "growing up and letting go." That it is, but the movie's message is somewhat cloudy.

Petulla debuts as a both an actor and a producer, and while his acting is credible, his production decisions need polish.

Set in the prototypical Smalltown USA of Washington, PA, the locale scenes, complete with a red covered bridge, are gorgeously shot, aided immeasurably by a brilliant autumnal backdrop. Baby Boomers' mouths may water at Petulla's white '68 Mustang Fastback, a classic car in which Petulla's character occasionally falls asleep outside his own home--though we are never told exactly why until very late in the movie--and even then the reason is unclear.

The movie hints none-too-subtly at marital problems between the Leones, and while we suspect that Dad's fanaticism about his son's making weight--even as a 45 lb. tyke--may have something to do with it, that alone does not explain the myriad medications and wine bottle that frame our first picture of Mrs. Leone.

We are led to believe that she is emotionally unstable, and that condition has caused whatever rift exists in the marriage, but the movie never shows her as anything but under control.

Leo is clearly on Dad's page, at least in the first half of the film. It is only after a serious and life threatening incident caused by weight-cutting, and a tragedy in Leo's personal life that Leo makes his break--and even then there are nagging questions.

We learn, again a bit late, that Coach Dad Leone is really only the assistant HS coach, and that he works for no money. The titular head coach is content to let Leone run the team, while he pockets the coaching stipend--a situation that no high school principal in the country would tolerate.

There are also major questions with respect to story line. Leo's a senior who has dedicated himself to wrestling and Dad's dream of going to Oklahoma on a scholarship, but he pulls up short when romance enters his life.

Unfortunately, it enters in the form of a delusional, lying, pot-smoking gal named Shaw, who, after introducing Leo to pot and trying to get him to attend a drunken bash, dies in an alcohol/drug-related car crash, thereby dashing Leo's hopes forever.

Other than first-love syndrome, it's hard to understand why he's so shaken, when his life without this bad-news, mixed-up girl can only be seen as a blessing by rational minds.

But rationality does not seem to play a major role in this film. After Shaw's death, the girls' mother reveals that she had no idea her daughter was a straight-A student, claiming that she "hasn't known her daughter for the last five years." Only parents who are living in a booze-and-drug induced haze (or in a mental home) would buy that, and our only meeting with Shaw's mother doesn't indicate that she's in that condition--though there is a half empty glass of booze nearby to remind us she drinks.

In addition, Leo's top competitor on the wrestling team is a two-time state champion who speaks flawless American English and whose last name is Ellis. The kid's father, inexplicably, is cast as heavily-accented, completely obnoxious, well-dressed blonde German nut job, whose day gig is probably as a Kommandant of a Stalag hidden somewhere in Pennsylvania Dutch country.

Germans are among the few ethnicities that can be politically correct "bad guys" in film today, but this bit of casting was far too heavy-handed, even going so far as to have the guy haul off and belt the kid when he didn't make weight.

Along with the Leones' murky relationship, and a lawn wrestling match between Ellis and his Hitlerian dad can we say "severely dysfunctional" when it comes to families?

There is also a gratuitous, boys-will-be-boys condom-buying scene that adds nothing to the story line beyond that particular right of passage. Yet the film is billed as a "family film that teaches sound values."

Another problem with the film is believability. Though many top names in the world of amateur wrestling (Kurt Angle, Kendall Cross, Kenny Monday) and other notables have rated this film a "two thumbs up," no wrestling savvy person can buy that Leo is a 125 lb kid trying to make weight when he towers over his own father. Nor does he ever look undernourished.

The fine house the Leones inhabit (polished hardwood floors, oak wainscoting and what must be a $3000 refrigerator) and the '68 mint condition 'Stang belie the father's dead end position as a day laborer, a situation he says he wants his son to avoid. The kid could do far worse.

Nor are we ever told that Leo finishes high school before the climactic final scene, one which was probably intended to rate a "10" on the emotional Richter scale. Viewers will rate the impact, but don't be surprised if you're asking questions rather than using your hankies.

Directors and producers have an admittedly hard time when trying to get the best of both the acting world and the HS wrestling world. The wrestling scenes are authentic, but Leo's sloppy diction was in stark contrast to his wrestling skills, making it difficult to understand what he was saying at times.

Considering the many flaws, the reader might be understandably confused by a recommendation to see this film, with a caveat to parents who know nothing about the demands wrestling places on both wrestlers and their families. Ironically, this film may turn parents and potential wrestlers away from this ancient and noble sport, and that would be a shame.

That may or may not have been Petulla's subconscious intent when he made the film, but it's another question the film raises rather than answers.

The biggest question may be in the viewer's mind at film's end when he asks himself if he scored big by watching it.

Or got reversed.