It was Saturday February 12, 2011; the bus just arrived at the Mackay Event Center we walked our way around to the participant entrance starved and cold in the muggy Orem air. Carrying my bags and lunch along with scars of disappointment and defeat this event center had brought before. Meeting the participant door for the last time couldn’t have been any sweeter. Confidence at an all-time high an essential to the job that was to be done on this day, forty wins and only one loss on the season, there was no other option but for the losses to remain that way. Memories of one who past, of the scars that led me to be here one last time an uncrowned champion, and of all the ones who brought me here. It was the last weigh-in of my life and I couldn’t have been any happier about it, all those winters married to the scale would end on this day. Herded like sheep up the freezing stair well into the meat market of the top of the event center, stripping yourself down to your nothings, holding all your clothes in hand, and standing there among all your opponents as the Nazi of a guy comes down to check hair and fingernails. 147.4, six tenths under the limit, beautiful, now it was time for one of the best parts of every tournament, eating after weigh-in. It was then time to warm up, coach always made sure that we were to be one of the first teams to be down on the mats warming up. Looking around the stadium seeing all the empty seats and clumps of kids in their team colors all eating away after their last weigh-in of the season or of their life. As I tied up my shoes I made sure my lucky state penny was still in my lace cover. I had found it the first day of the tournament heads up as I was walking in and I knew that it was a good sign of things to come. Semi-finals were first thing, they moved through the weights slowly, every match being close to going the full six minutes. Finally it was my turn, seeing my name up on the giant projection screen, mat six. I made my way to the corner where I wanted my coaches to sit and warmed up while the previous match finished. That match ended and now it was time to face my opponent from the always rivaled South Summit. Stripped down to my singlet, checked in at the score table, grabbed my designated ankle band, and stood across from him poised, angry, and ready. Then the ref said shake hands and blew the whistle beginning the match. I kept the locking up at a minimal simply because that just wasn’t my game passing his elbow across my body to leave him vulnerable, setting up a shot attempt. Offense, offense, offense that was my game, doesn’t stop until is in raised in the air. Finally I ended up with one of his legs in which I easily put him on the mat where he left his head down while he was on his knees. Instinctively I immediately threw my other arm over his head while I kept his leg with the other locking my hands together, cradling him up. As I tried to finish the move and put him onto his back he had wormed his way almost out of bounds, which would start us center again stopping my attempt to potentially finish the match. One tug at a time I drug him back in bounds, turned him and watched the ref slap the mat signaling a pin, and a win. Excited I jumped up giving a fist pump in the air while I heard my section applauding me I gave them a point directly at them to say I told you it would be a first round pin. It was now finals time the time I had been waiting for my whole life. The time where I had been a time before and come out unsuccessful; This time it was my time. Sitting out in the tunnel all alone, jogging and giving myself a good stretch before it was time to go out. The cement was cold beneath me while yet I was still sweating a bit from being bundled up to keep all my muscles warm. It smelled just as it felt, cold cement. I could hear the finals going on out in the stadium, the crowd eruptions, the cheers of the fans, the cheers of kids cheering their teammates on. All along thinking this is it, this is the last time you will do this Courtney. Then before I could get too emotional stop and put myself back into my zone, a daze of concentration and determination, fed by want and anger. Nothing else in the world around me goes on but the task at hand. Usually I would be going through a hundred scenarios of how the match could go but this time all I could think about was winning and doing it in the first round like there is no other option. Soon it was almost time; I was standing at the end of the bleachers where I was to run out. All the lights are dimmed; the whole audience is barely visible. The spotlights on the mat are perfectly lighting the 3 aligned mats while the score clocks sit in the corner of each one. The last match before the one hundred and forty-five pound one, two, and three A classification matches was nearly over. Standing there while all these cheerleaders stand all around, in the way, and smelling like hairspray for me to choke on. It is neglected because I am in my zone, I am ready to go. Then I hear the announcer call my name, I run onto the mat and immiadly go to my corner where my coaches are there in their seats waiting for me. I strip all the layers off and Coach hands me my red ankle band. The ref calls me and my Beaver foe center, we shake hands, and the match begins. Again my only game plan in offense, offense, offense I shoot in for the take down repeatedly and keep getting stuffed and think to myself “someone’s been doing their homework”. After many attempt I begin to become nervous that I can’t take him down and my sinus sickness is going to heavily cut my air if I go past the first round. Then taken by surprise he shoots on me which is something very out of the ordinary for this kid, he sinks a deep shot on my legs in which I end using the out of bounds line. Going back to center I take a deep breath, in through my nose, out through my mouth, and compose myself. A good rake of his head and a beautiful shot and I was in on his leg. Once grasped I knew there was no escape for him. I picked him up high in the air and slammed him down on the mat where he started to scramble leaving his wrist posted on the mat away from his body. Instantly I grabbed the wrist and drove my head in the back of his shoulder driving it to the mat giving me control of the arm. As I posted the arm behind his back and went to scoop his head with my other hand and trap his leg with mine he flicked his hip down about to escape. This is when I thought once again “someone did their homework” as he went to escape, I through quickly scooped his head and threw my arm under his across his back with everything I had. As he flipped to his back then attempted to roll through to flip me onto my back. Quickly I countered the attempt and secured him on his back, squeezing with every muscle on my body so desperately wanting this pin, and as the timer was about to call time for the round the ref slapped the mat. I had done it, everything I had ever worked for just paid off. I jumped up with excitement and shot and arrow into the crowd. We had the final shake and the ref held my hand up high, now it was finally my time to hold up those number ones.