I came back to the main facility just before eight o’clock for the weigh-in. The place was thronged with wrestlers, some outfitted in the latest threads, some going the other way, wearing worn grey track suits with holes in the knees and cut-off arms. I was hoping they paid less attention to training than their looks. After the weigh-in I went into the third double gym to stretch and warm up. It was packed with wrestlers of all sizes, and the racket from their talk and laughter bounced off the walls. Keeping to myself, I got to work stretching on the mat, then went to the wall for back-arches, starting easy and building to full arches, then a crab walk. Usually while I’m warming up I also psych up—get my mind in gear, get aggressive. You have to believe you can win, that you can make your opponent pay every time he pulls a move on you. And you’ve got to go to the mat ready to rock ‘n’ roll. You can’t wander into the gym and shake hands with your opponent thinking, Gee, I sure hope I’ll do okay.
