I’d often heard of
superheroes and had wondered, all the time, whether it was hype and rumor, or
if any of it was true. I had always
looked up to these God-like creatures, thinking they had something I didn’t, some
God-given talent that was reserved for only a chosen few. In fact, I thought I wanted to be a superhero
myself (or just a hero) and have people admire and love me unconditionally. Isn’t that what every young person aspires
to? I thought I wanted these things so
much, but what I didn’t know at the time was the price one sometimes had to pay
for having them.
Colin was a young man I had
met about 5 years ago at University College, which is part of the University of
Toronto. He was about 20, very good
looking and athletic. I was 21 at the
time and found myself quite attracted to him, which was also frustrating since
so many other young women also found him attractive. He was my idea of the “perfect man” –
handsome, intelligent and extremely nice.
But, his heart was only in athletics – wrestling to be precise. He had no time for women, therefore, no love
life, so I decided that being his best friend would be the next best thing.
Since friendship was the
only viable option, it then became relatively easy for me to hang out with him
and talk freely with him. The shyness I
normally would have felt was not there as it would have been if he were a
romantic prospect. I would go to the gym
to work out whenever I had spare time, which was at least once a day. I was in a general science program, which
included three social science courses, an English course and a political
science course. It was a pretty mundane
selection of courses for me and I might have been very bored if I had not had
Colin to divert me at the gym. However,
my workouts with my gymnastics team also kept me relatively sane. Thus, it came to pass that I got to know
Colin very well and we became good friends. I thought that we understood each
other well.
Whenever I watched him work
out at the gym, wrestling with his coach or fellow teammates, I found myself
full of admiration for his talent. He
was so quick, agile and strong. He had
very defined muscles in his upper arms, chest and legs. Since I myself had made it onto the
university’s gymnastics team, I knew what it took to build muscle mass and
strength. It took regular and rigorous
workouts! While my expertise was mainly
in floor exercise, which some people tended to assume was the easiest of the
four Olympic gymnastic events; I knew that my performance on the floor was
dependent on just two things – my strength and flexibility, plus my grace and
elegance in delivering my gymnastics floor exercise program. I could see a definite correlation between
what I did as a gymnast and what Colin did as a wrestler. It took a lot of hard work and dedication to
achieve greatness in both of these sports.
I had some far-fetched
dreams of my own of some day becoming a star gymnast in the province of Ontario
or even Canada at the university level, but I knew what it would take to
achieve this goal. It would need a lot
more work and dedication, not to mention luck, to do that and I didn’t think I
had what it took – a huge commitment.
But, somehow I knew that Colin had that kind of commitment to his
particular sport and I wanted to support him in his efforts. Watching him perform was an inspiration for
me too and this made me work harder than I normally would have otherwise. I wished I could say the same for him,
concerning myself, but I didn’t think that my prowess in gymnastics was a
driving force behind Colin’s work ethic.
One day, when I was at the
gym watching Colin work out with one of his teammates, Ian, I noticed that
Colin seemed to be over-exerting himself.
He appeared to be sweating profusely and was very pale. He was also taking frequent breaks to rest
between wrestling bouts. I thought that
he was just overtired and went over to ask what the matter was. After all, he was in a heavy undergrad
program – physiotherapy – and I thought that he might be having a hard time
balancing his time between studying and wrestling. Or, maybe he couldn’t decide what to spend
most of his time doing. I knew how much
he loved wrestling, but I also knew he worked hard at his studies and that he
enjoyed his program at university very much.
So, I wondered to
myself: what could possibly be the
problem? Were his parents pressuring him
to spend more time studying and less time wrestling? Was his coach pressuring him to spend more
time wrestling? I knew that if he quit
wrestling, it might be the death of him.
He wasn’t like me – I could quit gymnastics any time, almost without a
second thought, because I knew that I could coach or judge gymnastics if I
didn’t want to compete. It was rather
perplexing trying to read the situation with him though.
He, in turn, was very
evasive with me, not giving me any real information that I could
understand. He just said that he needed
a break from the routine of studying and wanted to spend more time wrestling. This news both startled and worried me – was
Colin going to quit school? No, he
couldn’t do that or he would be off the wrestling team and he would lose
his athletic scholarship. I didn’t know
what to make of it. What kind of “break”
did he mean? He reminded me of his next
wrestling tournament coming up (at York University) and that he would make his
final decision after that. But, I still
had no idea of what that decision would be.
I wanted to support him emotionally, but I didn’t know how to do that. He was literally wrestling with some internal
demons of his own that were tearing him apart.
I figured that I’d better not make myself scarce, in case he needed
someone close. So, I made plans to be at
his upcoming tournament.
The day of the wrestling tournament
at York University, I looked for Colin just to assure myself that he was going
to be okay. I found him talking to his
coach, Larry, and I pulled him aside after their conversation. Colin seemed to be pretty hyper and excited,
which was probably the by-product of being in a top tournament among five top
universities. The winner would go on to
the all-Ontario competition. We both
knew how important it was for him to perform well. He said to me that Larry was very proud of
him and had told him he expected the best from Colin. And, I knew that Colin could, indeed, deliver
the best, but I wanted him to know that doing his best was going to be good for
his future and would probably help him with his upcoming decision.
Colin was to fight in the
intermediate weight class of the tournament, which meant that he had to face
middleweight contenders. His weight had
to be just right – not greater than 170 pounds.
But, he had a distinct advantage due to his large muscle mass and
agility and, therefore, a real chance to win in his division. When his turn came to wrestle his opponent,
he did all of his maneuvers very well.
He held, pinned and threw his opponent to the point where it was clear
to the judges that Colin was the superior combatant. At the end of the match, the referee declared
Colin to be the undisputed winner of the intermediate division. I couldn’t have been more happy and excited
for him than I was right now.
But, as he was standing up
on the podium accepting his gold medal, he suddenly wobbled precariously on his
feet, turned deathly pale and keeled over, unconscious. I ran over, alarmed, to find out what was
wrong. He was barely breathing as he lay
there on the wrestling mat. I screamed
for someone to call 911 for an ambulance.
I looked around for his parents to see if at least one of them was
present, but nobody was evident. It
looked like I was going to be his only support person there. Finally, the paramedics came. After unsuccessfully trying to revive him,
they took him to the hospital with the sirens screaming. I begged them to tell me what was wrong with
him, but they could not. So, I just went
along to the hospital in the ambulance with him.
It was no better at Toronto
Western Hospital. I’d finally gotten in
touch with his father and soon he was on his way there. I had hoped that the doctor would be able to
diagnose Colin’s condition soon and give his family (and me too) some idea of
what had happened to make Colin pass out.
When the doctor finally came out to the waiting room, we were both very
anxious to hear what Colin’s condition and prognosis was. What we heard was a severe shock and made me
wonder how well I had really known Colin as a friend. It turned out that he had been on anabolic
steroids for quite some time now, trying to increase his muscle mass so that he
could compete effectively at the top level.
His win today would have qualified him for the provincial championships. Sadly now, that would never happen. He would be disqualified when the tournament
organizers discovered why he had collapsed.
Not only that, Colin was no longer the hero that we had all admired so
much. His athletic reputation was gone, along with any future opportunities to
excel in the athletic arena. The fact was
that he was fortunate to even be alive.
I tried to cope with this
senseless event, wanting to somehow excuse Colin for taking illegal drugs and
cheating at the tournament. It was just
too difficult to accept the fact that Colin was not the hero I knew he could
be. But, the saddest thing of all was
that I knew Colin had the capability of being one of the best wrestlers in the
country on his own merits, without the use of drugs. Only he hadn’t had enough faith in his own
abilities and strength to resist temptation, and that was his ultimate
downfall. In addition, his friends and
family all viewed him with contempt and derision. None of it was fair, but then when drugs like
anabolic steroids are involved, very little is fair. I would have given anything to be able to
help him succeed. Now, it was too
late. There would be no going back
anymore.
published by Authorhouse, copyright 2011, Anne Shier. All rights reserved.
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