SACCO:  Only down in Salem

SALEM

Only down here, in a musty-smelling – and aging – civic center does high school wrestling turn into a whirly-gig of hand-maneuvered spotlights in the darkness.

Only down here does it feel like a Vince McMahon production of a shoestring budget.

Only down here do they pack it to the rafters for an ancient sport invented by multi-god worshipers, yet still enjoyed by Xbox players.

Only down here do they make signs, paint their faces and chests and cheer on the individual. Only here does the crowd scream “Two,” and hold a pair of fingers aloft, willing the referee to give a guy a reversal.

Only down here does the thumping crowd build into a crescendo of cheers when a singlet-clad grappler turns an opponent on his back and leans in, trying to score the pin.

Down here the instructions are yelled from the corner of the mat by tie-wearing coaches cupping their mouths.

Down here where dreams are made, broken, then remade again. Case and point?  Riverheads’ Nash Vernon, slowly walking off the mat after his loss to Radford’s J Clark, only to emerge nine minutes later, smiling as his teammate Joseph Cash celebrated his state title and the sudden realization that, yeah, second place in states isn’t so bad.

Where Waynesboro’s Steven Brown can beam after a fifth-place finish and fellow Little Giant Aaron Lamb can stand in disbelief because eighth place is good enough to get you on the pedestal, put a medal around your neck and have you wave to the crowd in appreciation.

“If you would have told me I would have been at states back in October or November, I wouldn’t have believed you,” Lamb said. “But hard work and practice …”

Down here, you know how to finish that sentence, bub. It pays off.

Down here, just a clear-night glance away from a rickety old lit-up star on Mill Mountain, do moms and dads go though the ultimate exercise in futility – trying to hold a video camera straight while jumping up and down and yelling at the top of their lungs.

A place where Fort Defiance’s Aaron McMillion can smile in the lobby and look forward to getting that third-place medal. Where a freshman, Stuarts Draft’s Adam Davis, can stand on the seventh-place pedestal, move his hands awkwardly from the front pockets of his hoodie and dangle them at his side. His eyes turning as wide as saucers when they call his name and he leans his head down to accept his medal. His mouth, slamming shut when tape recorders and notepads are thrust in his face.

“It’s pretty cool,” he said. Does he want to be back here three more times? “Yes. Yes.”

Only down here can Joseph Cash earn a dinner after church with a win. Down here where his mom, Mary, screams, “Praise the Lord,” after his championship win. And his dad, Bobby, doing everything he can to hold his video camera steady, can pump his fist and smile as Cash puts his hands in the air.

Down here, where Cash melts into coach Eric Spath’s arms. And Spath, looking less like a coach and more like a proud papa, can grab his pupil and hold him close right back.

“You earned it,” Spath said, before pointing to the scorer’s table and pushing Cash toward it to sign the official scorebook. The coach’s face curled up into a proud smile as Cash darts toward the table.

Spath watching the whole time, smiling. A moment frozen in memory.

Plenty of them to go around.

And they only happen down here.

In Salem.