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AJEVER. SEW
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Monday
AGGIELIFE
—~Jonda>, April 10,2000
THE BATTALION
Page 5
BY R. DEti
the lost art of Thumbwrestling
Some people admit to being ‘all thumbs’ when it comes to love
^ sold!fate
lis column is about some-
Jthing veiy, very innocent and
Ichild-like. It is about Thuinb-
/restling with a capital “T.”
J Tliumb-wrestling is huge. It’s
le sport with a Napoleon com-
•lex[A sport that requires not an
iunce of physical ability, save the
bility to oppose one’s own
: hurnb, yet it breeds some of the
liggcst egos this side of the National Football League,
v MAY®;' ^humb-wrestlers are cocky. They exude conti-
d lence. And they hate to lose. It
vould be a lie for me to pretend that
don't exhibit these same charac-
erislics. My Thumb-wrestling
6r®vess is known — nay, feared —
zross the Bryan-College Station
Community. Like Miyaguchi Seiji in
|H Seven Samurai, I live only to
jerfcct my skill.
R ADDI f >.v days as a champion digit-
had'an unlikely beginning.
( Like many of the greats before me
^ ' 10 * saidan^^Wellington Scott, Joe “Mama”
v hing afeouf dr Besser, the Iron Thumb — my ca-
I was ♦alf’jnjai reei ' s not Jhe result of someone
with grand designs on the future. It
is something you fall into, get stuck
in end decide that, not unlike a but-
Kcotch waterfall, it is actually a
nice place to be.
It all began for me late in my
adblescence, at a time when my
body was still discovering itself, and
when 1 discovered another impor
tant part of my development into an
adult: love. It was my first girl
friend, the fair Lola, that had me
saying, “One, two, three, four, I de
clare a thumb war.”
■ I was a shy youth, and around
girls I was transparent. Lola, being
the fair lass she was, liked me for my
shy tendencies and my inability to stand closer to her
than 8 feet. She thought it was cute. But my friends,
the ones who teased and prodded me to “get some,”
never let me forget what a wuss I became around my
young love interest.
I Finally, I decided that my best strategy would be to
work in small steps. Fd begin with a small goal, sim
ply to hold her hand. As it turned out, the only way I
knew how to ask for even this minor engagement was
to challenger her to, yes, “THUMB-WRESTLE.”
It worked like a charm.
Soon we were holding hands all the time, but, to
my surprise, it was always a competition of the fat
finger. I found that I won the majority of our bouts,
and soon 1 became disinterested in the fair Lola. It
was too easy. 1 began eyeing other girls — girls with
long fingernails.
My Thumb-wrestling became an obsession. I
searched long and hard for the perfect challenger,
and along with that, perhaps the perfect mate. It be-
JEFF SMITH/Thk Battalion
came a quest akin to that of Red Sonja, who, for
those unfamiliar with the tale, would only marry a
man who could best her in battle, the irony being
that whoever was strong enough to defeat her could
also annihilate her. Fortunately for me, Thumb
wrestling has not been shown by any stretch of the
imagination to be lethal.
1 should also mention here that this is where my
development as a romantic adult stopped. I never
went past the Thumb-wrestling stage — never into
kissing, never ventured into putting my hand in a
girl’s back pocket like they did on “The Wonder
Years.” It just did not interest me.
Which brings me to my college days, where, like
surely every other incoming freshman male, I was as
tounded by the number of beautiful girls at every' turn
of the eye. And it all seemed to me, as aggressive as it
sounds, as a fresh supply of competition.
What I found to the case, however, was that col
lege girls were no Lola’s. They were not the Peggy
Sue’s or the Sally May’s that 1 had
been accustomed to humiliating back
at home. These girls had experience.
It was a rough transition, and, to
tell you the truth, I did not Thumb-
wrestle anybody my first two years
in college. Girls had a much more in
timate knowledge of the male palm
and thumb than I could have imag
ined, and, as a result, I found myself,
when facing my first match in over
two years (her name was Bruiser
Betty), losing like a vegetarian at a
pie-eating contest.
That is, if the pies were made out
of T-bone steak. Ok, that was a
forced simile. I apologize.
Anyway, faced with this humilia
tion, I did what previously seemed to
be impossible in my eyes. Something
I would never sink to. And before
you judge me, remember — I was in
a low place at this time.
I Thumb-wrestled a guy.
But all that is behind me now. I’ve
gotten back in the game, perfected
my moves, and today 1 battle with the
best of them. And I have discovered
that there are girls out there, many
who have never even had a man’s
thumb pinning their own to a four-
finger mat. There are, if you can
imagine, the few who have never heard of the dreaded
index finger “tag-team” move, of thumb-parries and
thumb-ballestras. And those are the chaste girls I’m
interested in meeting.
And once again, in case you’ve forgotten what I
said earlier — I’m just talking about Thumb-wrestling.
[Juan Loya is a senior journalism major.
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You can too!
693-9905 Plan ahead: Before you drink, set limits and
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Eat a high protein meal before you
drink and continue to eat while drinking.
Alternate with alcohol-free drinks throughout
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Avoid group drinks (i.e. trash can punch). These are very easy to
drug, and you can never know what exactly is in them.
If you go together, leave together. Do not leave a friend behind,
even if someone says he/she is okay. Check for yourself.
There is 0 risk in abstaining from alcohol.
Always know what you’re drinking, and keep an eye on your drink.
Drink no more than one drink per hour, not exceeding 2 drinks
for women and 3 drinks for men in one day.
Drink plenty of water
before going to bed.
Remember: Zero drinks if you are under 21, driving, operating equipment,
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