What a difference a year makes
December 07 2001

What a difference a year makes. By this time last year, I had just returned from the Olympic Games in Sydney with Canada?s first-ever wrestling gold medal. I had about 1500 fans and media come out to the airport to receive me. This time, I am looking around the airport and there isn?t a soul. Not that I expect anyone to be here to receive someone who had just placed 9th at the world championships, but out of curiosity, for the want of a comparison, I look around the airport. The only people here are fellow passengers on flight AC 881 from Toronto, via Paris. I will not be riding a Limo home today, I have to make do with my friend's 1995 Toyota Camry. One of the passengers comes over and says ? thanks for representing Canada very well, you are always a champion in our hearts?. At least, that is a consolation.

Backpedal a few days. On the plane from Sofia, Bulgaria, to Paris a day after the world championships and two days after I lost to the Cuban (Sanchez). Gia Sissaouri, Canada?s most celebrated wrestler is finally Champion of the world at 58 kilograms. With Gia?s win, it is evident that persistence pays off. Gia had won silver medals at the 1995 world championships and the 1996 Atlanta Olympics. He had also added a couple of bronze medals in 1997 and 1998, close to the gold, but not close enough. At the Olympic Games in 2000, he was my pick for gold, but it was not to be. Finally, in Sofia, 2001, everything came together for him. That three-point toss at the end of regulation time is one for the ages. I remember him jumping into the embrace of Canada?s assistant coach, Marty Calder and finally sinking to his knees, as if to embrace God for his mercies. I remember having arguments with people claiming to be wrestling insiders who felt Gia?s best years were behind him, I had always felt it was just not his time yet. I guess I was right on this one, at least I was right on one thing in 2001.

I can now figure out what it was. That feeling that I could not detect is now becoming clearer to me. The lack of fear, the lack of anxiety, that lack of fear of winning. I had felt so good in Paris. I was fluid, felt strong, confident and so efficient. I felt as good as I had ever felt a week to a major tournament, Maybe, I felt too good. Steve Rose, my training partner also told me I felt as sharp as I had ever felt, I needed the reassurance, even though I felt I would be unstoppable at the World championships. I was oozing in confidence, I felt things had finally come together. But there was still that unknown, that unsettled feeling. I would know in a couple of days.

Then it happened. I had easily dispatched the kid from Kaghizistan 5-0. Not the best match I had wrestled, but I did not have to wrestle my best match all the time. The Russian won a silver medal at the European Championships this year, so I wanted to be more composed and more aggressive than I was in my first match. I handled him with class. Shot him out completely, took away everything he could muster, wrestled according to the game plan: stayed on him for six minutes.

My next match would be against the Cuban whom I had beaten twice before. He had consistently placed in the top eight since 1995, but I was not really worried about the match. I had watched his first two matches in the group stage of the competition: fast hands, unorthodox lunges, no real straightforward attack. In parterre position, a gut wrench to the right, a fake to the left and always a full effort back to the right. I would contain him, I had thought. Then I watched the Iranian?s (Tavakolian) match. Steady and low, straight double legs, I?d be fine with him in the quarterfinals as well. The Korean: low singles, gut wrench to the right, good ankle laces, but not strong enough for the weight class. In any power position, he would fold. Strangely, I realized that I was looking past the Cuban. The match against the Cuban is the one I should be concentrating on, not a possible quarterfinal match. I convince myself that I am not looking past the Cuban.

I get back to the hotel early afternoon and nap till I am woken up. An ex- girlfriend was pounding down my door and threatening to take me to court again. Dream. I have a worried look on my face, how did I let myself fall into such a deep sleep with less than two hours to a crucial world championship match? I need to fully wake up before my match. Dave Mckay, (my coach) comes into my room and goes over a videotaped match of the Cuban with me. ? Eliminate his right arm, stay focused and aggressive all match. Don?t allow any turns on the bottom, stay busy, the match does not need to be close. We can blow this guy away?. I nodded in the affirmative, I had trained, I was ready.

But, I was not nervous. I never felt threatened and that continued to bother me. What is it? What is the change? What has happened to me? I felt dangerous when I felt like I was cornered, but that feeling was non-existent, it still bothered me as I packed my bag and headed for the bus to the tournament venue. I get my fingers taped up (both ligaments in my thumbs are stretched, so I resort to some artificial support with athletic tape). All along the bus ride to the morning afternoon wrestling session, I meditate about the perfect match against the Cuban. I would crowd him early and take him off his game. Score early points, get him to panic and counter attack the hell out of him.

At the warm up before the match, I feel really sluggish, I feel out of breath, I feel flat. I try to convince myself with another ten minutes of aggressive warm up, the more I try, the more I feel drained of energy. I talk to myself, try to tell myself to wake up. I try to dance, my feet are not cooperating, but I figure they will when I get on the mat and the whistle blows. I let Steve try to turn me aggressively on the bottom. I jog a bit more, do a few front and back rolls, to no avail. I take another five explosive double leg shots, but my shots feel too slow, even though I try so hard. It will work itself out, I say to myself. I cut the warm up short before I get too exhausted. I am not nervous about the match, I am really bothered by my state of mind going into this match. Bothered by this lack of response from my body.

I think of the training sessions I have had. I think of the over time match I had at the Sunkist international with Chris Bono of the United States (my only tournament of the year). I had trained really hard over the last two months, my body had been conditioned to show up for the ?big ones?. I trust the body to do its job, so I shrug off the feeling of coming out ?flat?. This well-conditioned body will show up when the time is right, at the blow of the whistle.

November 24th, 4:00 AM, I have barely slept for thirty minutes and I am wide-awake again. This feeling is eerily familiar, but with a twist. I remember 1999 when I won the world championships, I also remember when I won the Olympic gold medal in 2000. Both times, I barely slept for one hour at a time. This time though, I want to sleep and forget about the loss to the Cuban. The only time I do not think about the match that I could have won is when I am asleep, or so I thought. Except I am being suffocated by dreams, nightmares of the match and of the new champion of the weight class. I want to forget about the desperation move, the 2 pointer I went for at the end of the match. A conservative one pointer, which was within reach, could have sent the match into overtime. Instead, I went for two, lost it and gave away two more points to lose 2-5 to the Cuban. I may have been selfish, I was selfish, but taking risks, is part of wrestling. Taking risks has defined my life, it is what has brought me this far, I cannot stop taking risks now.

The five foot nothing Bulgarian wrestler is running around the yellow circle of the wrestling mat with his hands raised up as if to signal that he is no. 1. I see him again, being tossed up and down in the Bulgarian crown of spectators. He runs past me, gives me the loathing look, and smiles to me. Is this the same guy I tamed over a year ago? I wake up again, maybe the last time I was asleep was thirty minutes ago. There is a difference between dreams and nightmares after a significant loss and a significant victory, I prefer the latter.

Hours earlier, My coach, Dave Mckay had stepped into my room and asked me what I thought went wrong. ?I lost?, I had stammered. While the Bulgarian crowd was shocked at my loss, most of my other opponents were jubilating. ?what happened?? I looked flat in my warm up, he observed. ?You were not sharp, you were very sluggish?. And when I got on the mat for the match against the Cuban? ?Gosh. I have never seen you wrestle this badly in 4 years?, he tells me. How was my sleep the night before? Was there anything on my mind going into the match against the Cuban? Did I over/underrate him? How long did I sleep in the afternoon before the match? ?You were completely flat?. I know. ? I wondered when you would shake it off and wrestle like you?, he said. All I could murmur was that I had one bad match. Unfortunately, the bad match was in the world championships and probably meant the difference between a gold medal and 9th place finishing.

We talk about preparations for next year. We set the tournament schedule for next year. I have to cut short my holiday and come back 1st of January to begin preparations for the 2002 season. We have to get 25-30 matches before the world championships. Nothing will interfere with training, except competitions. Now, that unexplained feeling is finally clear. The unfamiliar feeling of not been anxious or feeling threatened. It meant I was going to lose a match at the world championships, that I would be down, but not out. I was disappointed with a 9th place finish, I went to Bulgaria with my eyes on the top prize. I wanted a Canadian anthem, not a Bulgarian anthem on the loudspeakers after all was said and done. But it was not to be, not this time anyway.

I see him again, all five foot of him, running around in circles. Raising that finger, Champion du Monde. It is a great feeling to be on top of the world, he better cherish it for the next nine months. There are a few really pissed off people in the weight class who want that title more than anything else. For two years, I was being chased, it is a precious position to be in. But it also comes with a lot of baggage, good baggage. I believe that it is God?s wish that I chase someone else. Trust me, I have a burning hunger to do well next year. If my record of chasing people is anything to go by, I like my chances. I probably disappointed a few people who had high expectations of me. But this is sport, on any given day, anyone can win or lose. I lost at the world championships this year, but there is always next year. All I could do is give it my best shot and that is exactly what I did. My best shot, on a bad day, was not good enough for a medal.

Then, there is this email: ?The greatest of champions lose now and then. It may feel weird to you because you have not lost in two years, but remember that you are a role model to kids and a champion on and off the wrestling mat. Wrestling Canada is proud of you. We look forward to your next winning streak.? Well, God-willing, next year will be a different year. We pray for a sound health and good luck in everything we do. Knowing the feeling of losing and of winning is marvelous. While I prefer to win, I learn very valuable lessons from losing as well. You know your real friends. Such is the beauty of success. The mark of a champion, as my coaches have told me, is not just how well you win, but how well you handle losses as well. I have been there b4, always gotten up when I have been down. This is no different. I take consolation in the words of my coach, Mike Jones: ?Not losing is not good for the competitive soul?. I guess next year will be a different year. I am taking a three-week-break to Nigeria for Christmas and then ?THE HEALING BEGINS?. I have a feeling that things will go well next year. As I write this diary, I have a letter that my grand ma wrote me before the Olympics in front of me. She had concluded it thus: "Good hunting". That is exactly what it is going to be next year.

Keep sweating... Daniel (Dynamite) Igali

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