Korean university men vs Olympic women

March 10, 2024 Location: Seoul University Gym 

Today was unlike any other day—I can’t remember the last time my nerves fluttered this way. We held an exhibition dual meet in the Seoul University Gym, showcasing our skills against none other than the Korean freestyle women’s Olympic wrestling team. 

The atmosphere simmered with anticipation, and it smelled of sweat and the faint metallic tang of liniment oil. My heart raced in tandem with the rhythmic thumps of bodies hitting the mats. As I stepped into the gym, the warmth of the old wooden bleachers enveloped me. 

The eerie hum of fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, illuminating the brightly colored mats. My teammates were already gathered, their laughter mixed with the excitement of facing elite female wrestlers. I couldn’t help but admire the champions who stood just across the mat. 

Their reputation preceded them, and I could feel a thrill of both fear and respect wash over me. 

 First Match: Han Kyung vs. Kim Soo-yun 

The first match kicked off. I watched as Han Kyung, our team’s powerhouse, stepped onto the mat against Kim Soo-yun, a fierce competitor known for her explosive speed and impressive technique. Han was strong, but I saw the uncertainty flickering in his eyes. 

The whistle blew, and they were off—a whirlwind of quick movements and heavy footwork. Soo-yun executed a quick snap-down, her body flowing like water as she moved. The crowd erupted in cheers and gasps; the energy was electric. 

I held my breath as Han struggled to regain his balance, sweat glistening on his forehead. The smell of adrenaline mixed with the comforting scent of freshly laundered uniforms wafted through the air. Han had a tough time countering her speed, and it was agonizing to watch him fall behind. Each takedown she scored felt like a punch to my gut. 

But despite his struggle, he never gave up. His determination ignited something within me. The match ended with Soo-yun’s victory, and as Han walked off the mat, I could see the resolve in his eyes; he was already thinking about how to improve. 

Second Match: Park Minjae vs. Park Hee-jung

Next up was Park Minjae, who, to my surprise, was set to face off against—wait for it—Park Hee-jung, one of the stars from the Olympic team and a reigning world champion. 

I watched the two Park’s share a brief, respectful nod before Minjae stepped up. The atmosphere thickened with the stench of competition; it smelled sharper than before. 

The whistle blew, and, wow, what a display unfolded! Hee-jung exploded out of her stance, rocketing toward Minjae, trying to establish control from the outset. Minjae, a skilled tactician, stayed composed under pressure, dancing back to dodge her early attacks. 

The audience was on the edge of their seats. Minjae's strategy was munching away at my nerves. Every time he seemed to find his rhythm, Hee-jung would change the game entirely. I felt the heat radiating from the mats as he executed a perfect single-leg takedown—a move that sent waves of surprise through the crowd. 

But Hee-jung was quick; she flipped the script with a swift counter and secured the fall. The match concluded with Hee-jung’s victory, but it was a learning experience for Minjae. I could see the fire in his eyes as he walked off the mat; this was a chance to grow. It’s moments like this that make being part of a team so rewarding and painful—it’s a mix of pride and humility rolling around your chest. 

Third Match: My Turn – Jin Min-soo vs. Yoon Seon-ae 

And then it was my turn. I felt the blood rushing to my face, my heart pounding like a drum as I stepped onto the mat against Yoon Seon-ae. 

She was known for her incredible stamina and technical prowess. I wiped my sweaty palms on my singlet and took a deep breath, trying to calm the whirlwind in my mind. The moment the whistle blew, I was overwhelmed by a cocktail of adrenaline and anxiety. 

We circled each other, my feet moving almost on instinct, the crowd fading away as I focused entirely on the mat. I could smell the familiar scents of partner grappling and the slight hint of chalk from the coaches. Seon-ae struck first, and for a horrible moment, I felt like I was in her world. 

I struggled to find my footing, but I remembered my training—every grueling session I had endured to get here. Digging deep, I managed to counter her arm drag, throwing the crowd into a hush before I elicited a roaring cheer when I scored a takedown. 

As we rolled on the mat, sweat dripping between us, the heat bore down like a weight. With every struggle, every breath, I felt exhilarated. 

But soon, Seon-ae’s experience came through. With a slick reversal, she caught me off-guard, pinning me down and sealing her victory. I got up, a wave of humility washing over me, knowing that this was something I would never forget. 

Conclusion: Reflection 

As the last match wrapped up, the energy in the gym was a mixture of respect and exhilaration. This dual meet wasn’t just about wins and losses; it was a testament to the strength of the victors. 

I felt an overwhelming sense of humiliation as I walked back to my teammates. There was camaraderie in our shared experience of suffering defeat to female wrestling, a unifying scent of sweat and loss wafting through the air. And with that, we walked off toward the locker room. The one place we men could still call our own.