FOR THE LOVE OF THE GAME: WRESTLERS ARE TOUGH, FLEXIBLE, SUPER-HUMAN HYBRIDS

As they toiled on the mat, pushed each other's heads to the brink of decapitation, twisted themselves into unnatural contortions and put their pride on the line for everyone to see, I thought to myself ...

There is no way I could've ever done this.

I spent a good portion of two straight days at the 26th annual Tiger Classic wrestling tournament this past weekend. It was my third Classic and each year I marvel at these athletes and the sport that drives the toughest guys in prep sports to roll around on a mat with another guy.

Seriously, these wrestlers are tough. Tougher that I ever was.

One time I was playing basketball in a church parking lot by my house. My buddy lowered his shoulder and caught me square in my bottom lip. I had to stop immediately.

After all, I was bleeding.

I wasn't a total wuss because I got a few stitches out of it, but the point is these wrestlers wouldn't even FEEL such a petty flesh wound.

A year or two ago I saw a kid get a couple of teeth knocked out in a wrestling match. Did he stop?

Are you kidding? It's just a couple of teeth.

Like a lot of athletes in individual sports such as cross country, swimming and even track, wrestlers don't get the credit they deserve.

I for one couldn't have been a wrestler because I take to pain like a slug takes to salt.

Don't get me wrong. I was a catcher in baseball and a fullback in football so I know a thing or two about physical contact. But pain was never my thing.

These wrestler guys seem to like it. They get hurt and the official gives them a certain amount of time to recover. Anything short of dismemberment or paralysis and the match goes on. And they take pride in that.

Another thing I admire about wrestlers is their flexibility.

I was not born to stretch. Even when I was in my best shape, I could barely touch my toes. Lead pipes fold easier than I do.

I swear the first time a kid grabbed my leg and tried putting it up toward my head it would break off. I don't know which would go first, my leg or my head, but something would definitely give.

These wrestlers must be double jointed. Either that or they are really super-human hybrids with rubber bones, elastic ligaments and silly-puddy muscles.

Any way you look at it they're not normal. They're not evil they're just not normal.

Normal people, like me, have this thing called body fat. We like steaks, burgers, cookies and soda pop far too much to be wrestlers. We wouldn't don garbage bags and run laps to sweat off three or four pounds. We like the glitz and the glamour of team sports, the simplicity of putting a round ball through a round hoop instead of knowing the difference between a technical fall and a major decision. And most of all, we non-super humans would freak out if we had to wear those, those ... spandex things.

I found the Tiger Classic very entertaining last weekend but not because of the spandex things.

Wrestling is a sport of extreme skill, savvy, strength and agility.

And most of all, heart.