Page 577 - Gay San Francisco_Eyewitness Drummer
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Gay San Francisco: Eyewitness Drummer                 557
                “And it hurts,” I say, dropping my notepad and pushing the butt of
             my palm into his chin.
                “We all like to win matches but not everyone can be a winner.” He
             speaks through clenched teeth, holding my arm immobile. “Some guys
             think of wrestling only as a contest.”
                “No shit,” I say. Do I look to him like George Plimpton? [Plimpton
             was an American intellectual and author turned gonzo participatory jour-
             nalist who dared play quarterback for the Detroit Lions and write about
             the reality in Paper Lion. In June 1968, he was walking in front of Bobby
             Kennedy, escorting the presidential candidate through the kitchen of the
             Ambassador Hotel, when Kennedy was shot; Plimpton grabbed the assas-
             sin by the throat. ]
                “It’s more than a contest.”
                “It’s murder,” I say. I’m not ready for this encounter.
                “I like spontaneity,” he says. “Do you?”
                “The Japanese liked spontaneity,” I say. “Pearl Harbor didn’t.”
                “Gay wrestling is a process of mutual discovery, interaction, explora-
             tion of the self as well as the other man who is of mutual interest.”
                “You’re breaking my arm,” I say.
                “The other man is a person. Not just an object to toss around in a
                “Uncle,” I say. “I’m a person.”
                “Again.” (This guy’s got style.)
                “Uncle.” I repeat it. “How the fuck can I write notes with you break-
             ing my fucking arm?”
                “You got to admit wrestling’s fun.”
                “I love it,” I say. “I’ll remember every minute of this.” I punched him
             in the stomach. The free-for-all was on.
                Handley ain’t no cupcake. He’s a wrestler’s cup of tea. Bouts with him
             can be arranged along with information about the NYWC by writing:
             Handley, 59 West 10th Street, New York 10011. The Chicago Wrestling
             Club, directed by Jim Tomnitz, can plug you into Midwestern grappling
             if you write to Box 4491, Chicago 60680. Larry Lane is the contact for
             California wrestlers. Write: The Gym, 5919 Franklin Avenue, Hollywood
                John Handley wisely urges all wrestlers that the reality of the sport
             advises accident and disability insurance as much as a protective jock.
             He ain’t just whistling “Dixie.” [In this sentence, I was referencing that
             during the wrestling matches in Varney-Mooney’s attic ring, while Hurles
             and I shot photos, Handley accidently injured the handsome and popular
             barber, Thumper McPherson, whom I had invited and whom I visited

           ©Jack Fritscher, Ph.D., All Rights Reserved—posted 05-05-2017
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