No quarter (reprise)

In the morning, Rodrigo had the two wrestlers running around the block. Whenever the Column and Figueira disappeared in the corner, Rodrigo and I would talk. He said Figueira had changed, not the much he would like to see, but had changed to better anyway. I had to agree on that matter. Figueira would say hello whenever he passed by, making us - including the Column - laugh for a while. The training was hard, so I thought Figueira was the only one to have such hard warm-up before we got in the van that would take us to the regional heat of the tournament. The two never wanted to stop exactly at the points determined by the coach, so Rodrigo threatened them once again with the running around the block, until their practice was done and the Column went away to São Paulo, wishing he could accompany the others to the tournament to watch them.

Night fell upon Conselheiro Nébias Avenue. The city lights in the end of August, the little cold still on the streets that the spring was about to cancel in favor of the average 40 degrees of this endless summer that already showed its first signs. The kids are all in the practice room, as the van maneuvers to park in front of Corporal. Rodrigo and Mr. Costa join me outside and Rodrigo retreats back to the practice room to call them.

The team, in full gear once again, attaching headgears, putting on singlets, that movement and efervescence we got used to seeing everytime they have a tournament / dual / competition on and even in the practice room. The bouts, fierce and going up against sturdy, solid opponents the kids struggled a lot to live up to. And they did live up to the challenge; Zangrandi was the first to show a mighty hand when it was most needed: pinned his adversary at 2:34 after a true rule-oriented carnage. Morales got almost pinned twice, but ended up nailing his opponent's shoulder - and much more - to the mat at 2:51. Galhardo won by points in one of the bouts and pinned in the other at 2:01.

"I can't believe I have been given this lil' child to face on the mat", said a voice beside us, all of a sudden. Panotti, Rodrigo and I looked at the direction of the voice and saw a big boy, looking right at Panotti. The boy had a mocking expression and was way bigger than Panotti. I sensed something strange going on and so did Rodrigo. Panotti started glaring at the boy.
"Panotti, be cool, will you", hurried Rodrigo, "take no notice, it's just psyching out what he's trying to do, you know."
The big boy laughed.
"Does the baby have a psychologist?"
"Boy, do yourself a favor, get lost till the bout is called", motioned Rodrigo.
"Let him speak", I could notice a slight tremble in Panotti's voice.
"You ready for the killing? You'll be dead meat when I let go of you", said the boy.
"Wait and we'll see." Panotti was beside himself then.
"Your mom going to receive you back in a matchbox. I'll be sure to shrink you down to tha' size, lil' baby."
"One slip, you're dead. No quarter", it was the most he could hear from Panotti.

Panotti's eyes glinted. A wicked shine sending energy that would never be returned again. Rodrigo shook his head; seemed to know - better than me - what that thing meant. Panotti was serious and could hardly refrain from trembling; he was nervous, but not with fear. Rage seemed to explain it better. As the two opponents stood on the mat, I heard Rodrigo say it was going to be a either a great victory or a great disaster. Or the two, at the same time.

And so it was. Big or not, the boy was careless enough to fall into a stupid trap: approached Panotti's arms too much for one that intends to remain in a competition. Panotti was quick to grab him fast, give him his shoulders, and started bending so fast he carried the whole body of his big opponent on his back into the fall, using his right leg to guide his fall to the exact point he wanted to. The two crashed down to the mat with a deep noise that could not come unnoticed by anyone alive. The bout finished at 0:56 and the big boy was left unconscious on the mat after the referee raised Panotti's left arm to indicate the winner. Figueira stared at the scene, glaring eyes, as the big boy received first medical care, and was the first to compliment Panotti.
"Yeah, that'll teach him to keep his big mouth closed. He'll be shy before he goes all boasting like this again", said he, still nervous of the battle.
Figueira got good results, if not the hoped ones at least good results, but nothing he could show off, if he were to do this kind of thing with his everyday shy temper.

And the team celebrated their passage to the State Tournament with lots of pizza and soft drinks. It seemed they weren't in the mood of cutting weight that day. They seemed never to be in that mood.

My son has joined the wrestling team | Emotion has come of age

Radio Universal: The Making Of A Thousand Gods.