The Simpsons: Bart

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***

The second day of the tournament took place the next day, lasted all of seven minutes and thirty seconds, and I got the win solely by virtue of the third round, when I started in a control position, which I held for the full two minutes. It was a very slim victory that I couldn't be prouder of.

The third day of the tournament was one day of the week apart, and was essentially the semi-finals. By this point, the tension was starting to gradually get to me, so I prepared for this match by finding a recording of my opponent's matches on the internet.

The only recordings were from this tournament.

By the third match, neither at home nor at school knew that I was competing. It was a little lonely, but on the other hand the whole situation felt right, less stressful.

The semi-final started badly, I was nearly held down five times in the first round. And it was already clear that I shouldn't expect to win by time of possession of the initiative. The guy was an unreal grappler, grabbing me where I was not sure it was according to the rules.

Suddenly, however, my training came in handy. My opponent had won both of his fights in this tournament via pretty sharp passes to the legs, with the next set of extra points to break away into mount position. So, when at the end of the second round, he threw himself at my legs, I reacted in time, wrapped my arms around his neck, pressed my whole body against his back, took advantage of his attempt to break free, already had his back against the deck, and finally locked in a hold so that he had no chance to get out before the report. That's how I earned my second hold win of the tournament.

- Haaaa... - As I lay on the bed, I felt my body ache in a way it never had before. It was like I had started working out again, only now with a fair amount of extra weight.

Behind the next wall, Lisa was getting ready for bed and was typing something into her laptop - in the absolute silence of my room, the clatter of keys could be heard. Glad that my sister was cramming and not a pervert, or it would be embarrassing if in the silence I heard another...

- Haa... After the tournament, I'm gonna do seven times a day. - The internet says that for the best results in sports it's recommended to abstain before competition, so I...

When I heard the door to the other room open. I decided I could use a glass of cold water myself.

As I went downstairs, I saw the light of a working television. Which was odd, because I hadn't heard the door to my parents' bedroom open. Walking into the living room, everything fell into place.

- What are you doing, Maggie? - My youngest of the younger sisters sat covered in a blanket, staring at the screen.

- ... - but when she saw me, her face looked like she'd had a heart attack.

As I walked past, I poured myself a glass of water. I sighed heavily. I reached into my locker, pulled out a bag of popcorn, and put it in the microwave to cook. About fifteen minutes later, I came out with the popcorn ready in a bowl and a glass of juice.

- Here you go. - Handing the popcorn to Maggie, I set the juice on the nightstand to her left. - What, parental controls?

Maggie remained silent, but I didn't ask again. I just sat down next to her, ready to spend the next two hours watching a horror film, quite possibly a mediocre one. Obviously Maggie likes them, but as the older brother, I still can't have her getting really scared and not being able to sleep through the night...

.....

- Ahh... Wh-what's that? - Lying in bed, with the blanket count on my face, I reacted to the knocking on the window. And why does fantasy replace branches at night with clawed paws?!

And why is the younger Simpson sniffing so deeply?! First of all, unfair! Secondly, how can anyone sleep in this scary world of ours?! Haunted reality-based horror films about ghosts and radiation be damned!

.....

On the last day of the tournament, the coach showed up. From overheard conversation with the committee, I learnt that they had a less than favourable impression of me. They openly told me that I was clearly lacking in experience and preparation, and that I had a disastrously low chance of success at higher tournaments.

Coach Gable Engle responded briefly by asking for the names of those competing in the finals. Trailing off, he added that the committee had nothing to worry about and it was better to watch the fight.

Neither admonitions nor words of pride, Engle said nothing to me. Which suited his general opinion, about the connection between fighting and character. Will and judgement.

There were a bunch of high school kids at the finals. It was embarrassing to see my former classmates, and teachers. I was instantly recognised. I think part of it was the cheerleading banner with my name on it. How embarrassing!

It's even more embarrassing when I hear whispers in which I can only make out my own name. Thank Zubrila is not in the room, apparently, they did not push everyone in. They'll probably tell her, though, won't they?

Looking for someone to tell me. I couldn't find Alison. It made my heart feel disappointed in a way that was hard to explain. Maybe I wanted to show off for her by rubbing her nose in it, or maybe....

Becky was in the audience, waving at me with a big smile. Nice girl. I waved back with a smile. Then the coach's whistle was heard, and I felt uncomfortable at the new level, so I abruptly turned away with red cheeks.

My opponent for the final was the direct opposite of my first opponent in the tournament. He had a rather slender build, one could say a stick figure, but he was considerably taller than me in height and arm length.

In my mind I immediately remembered the past half-year and sparring against older guys, a half-year of only defeats.

At the beginning of the round, I managed to hold my opponent's hands. However, in the first minute, he shook off my grip, and in a second, he had my back, moreover, he fell to the floor.

With my knee, I tried to rise with one left leg, at the same time pulling my back back and my arms away from his grasp. After about twenty seconds of fumbling, a way out appeared to me.....

But it was a lie. When my opponent's locked hands were sufficiently withdrawn, he unlocked them, then brought them back together on my stomach and toppled sharply to the side. He was awarded three points for the throw. Dangerous.

The last minute of the first round began with my attempt to hook his legs. Unfortunately he reversed by pushing back and covering me with his body. On the stopwatch for the report, the time lit up....

A second before, I was able to rip off his left shoulder blade, along with getting my arms around his torso from the side. The trouble with the grab is that I held him clumsily and didn't know what I should do next.

So he broke free easily, walked behind me again, through a series of exchanges of takedown attempts, and almost had me on a throw as the bell rang for the end of the round.

During the break, I buried my face in a sweat towel, I couldn't breathe. I don't understand how to even beat this guy....

So even though the second round started with me taking the initiative, I couldn't hold my opponent for ten seconds. He was able to break free easily by mastering my leg. Then turned around from a kneeling position and tried a hold.

Again, I break free with a second to lose. In an attempt to break free, I manage to roll over onto my stomach. And now my opponent has my back again. After a throw to the floor, a hold attempt.

The abrupt interruption of the hold leaves me out of breath. My opponent notices this and starts to press on my stomach at every opportunity.

I manage to take advantage of this and throw him over me from a lying position. Two points, and my lead is under eight points.

It was worth it for both of us to get up. The bell rings for the end of round two. Judging by the scores, I can't count on extra time. All or nothing...

The final round started with him in control. I got down on one knee, but with my toe in the air. I began to rock my body back and forth, pulling my opponent's lock and resting my own back on it.

On the forward motion, I abruptly duck underneath him, knee pushing backwards, straddling my somewhat dazed opponent's back and then....

- Kgghhhh! - I lift him into a suplex over his head.

From the bridge, I manage to see the number five lit up on the scoreboard. My strength abruptly left me and I fell right out of position, ignoring my opponent trying to grab me, who hadn't realised what had happened yet.

- The winner of our state tournament, Bartholomew Simpson! With a time of 5 minutes, 37 seconds.

Next, I was presented with a gold-painted trophy and a certificate of victory. I was given an invitation to a real state tournament named after some popular wrestler from the past and wished the best of luck. Coach Gable Engle took me to the gym, where.....

- Congratulations, Bart! - the boys greeted me with fireworks and cake.

- Aah! Confetti in my eye! - but the event was overshadowed by Milhouse's eye, who got hit in the eye, even though he had glasses.

We celebrated with juice, cake, pizza, Chinese food and two bottles of beer for fourteen guys. As it turned out, I was the only one from our school to win the tournament. I'm sure if we could've put someone in all twelve categories, it would've come out better.

- Way to go, Bart. - Boy A, even broke his arm in the competition.

- You should celebrate your victory in more attractive company. - while eating his pizza, Boyfriend B looked over at me.

- Are you offering yourself in a dress? - to which I had something to say.

- Ha ha ha. How about I go out with my girlfriend this weekend. - After a round of laughter, Coach poked me in the shoulder with a spicy chicken leg bone.

- Girlfriend? - I don't remember dating anyone.

- Huh? Isn't that cute blonde with the braces your girlfriend?

- Becky? No, we're not dating. Plus, I've always liked the more playful girls.

- Come on, Bart, you made out with her! - Van Houten, who apparently wants his other eye to swell up.

- It was when I was ten! At Lisa's bloody party when they were playing truth or dare, so it doesn't count! - I protested sharply, which didn't bother me in the slightest:

- Tealee-lee dough, Bart and Becky - bride and groom~ - a chorus of wrestlers sang in unison.

.....

- Hey, Bart. - while we were riding our bikes home with Milhouse, he suddenly struck up a conversation. - You remember our former classmate, Terry McLberry.

- Hmm. - naturally, yes. How much she and her sister Sherry teased me as a kid I'll never forget. - Maybe.

- Come on, she's got another hot sister Sherry!

- They're twins. - and if I saw right, they still look the same.

- So you do remember? - Van Houten grinned.

- I suppose so. But why do you ask?

- Well, she seemed to like you, she asked about you. - I almost fell off my bike when I heard that.

- You did? - What did she look like? I want a hot girl!

- Yeah. But more importantly, a hundred percent her sister's into me! - Fucking hell! I almost fell off my bike for the second time, Milhouse is trying to kill me so he can have the twins for himself?

- I still don't know what you're getting at. - I don't have time to get girls with my mate because the next tournament is in two months, which isn't as much time as you might think.

- They invited us on a double date tomorrow. You wanna come? Please? - Milhouse made puppy dog eyes.

Well, as long as the fish swims in the net, why not? Who knows, maybe I'll get to say goodbye to my virginity. And as we know, twins are weird guys, so what if I get the chance of a lifetime to have a triplet with twins? I'd be a fool to turn down that chance!

- Just for you, mate. - I smiled softly at Milhouse.

- Thank you, Bart. I'll buy you a drink. - The genuine tears in my best friend's eyes made me feel kind of bad.