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Home My WebLink AboutThe Huron Expositor, 1990-04-18, Page 1212 THE HURON EXPOSJTOR, A0000,1999 it "I love this ,sport, but it's` a stupid sport It is, it's stupid." Not exactly the sort of tiding that' you'd expect to hear OW tourjnantent organizer utter, but then Mark ZalePa ie net just arty tournament organizer, Zalepa, ,M'ietdgan State's arae -wrestling champion, hailsMn!the London Ann Wrestliiz�q elnb 04 _ ds a good 30 or 40 weekends,year' on :the road, organizing ar Competing In arm - wrestling tournaments He Was in Seaforth on Saturday afternoon for the 'Queen's Hotel strong-arm extravaganza, one of his smaller stops on the aim*. "You put your arms through all of this agony just for prestige, because there's no real money involved," h8 admitted, taking a registration fee front a would-be challenger: The had .in..the _Queen's ..com-. petition - $75 for first prize, $35 for second and $25 for third in each class - is small peanuts compared to some of the bigger contests. Attendance was pretty sparse, too, with 35 registrants signed in by two o'clock. actually ratty dead tournament," Zalepa „ squinting into th Zalepa remarked, e bar. "In Michigan smokey depths of the , we'd have about 200.' he concedes, are The bar competitions,e the lifeblood of the arm -wrestling circuit Although some of the State and National championship snatches e Canadian Championshi saw 6,000 fans pack into an arena to take in the action - the hotel matches hail back to the roots of the s "I love doing these in a bar...I love the atmosphere," says Zal ' are big draws - th ps in Amos, Quebec port. spa. Terry Dorrsers of Seaforth would disagree. The reigning Canadian Champion in the 150 -and -under Flyweight class, Dorr- sers handily cleaned the competitions' • clocks on Saturday afternoon to walk away with first prize. If a contest of this calibre and size had been any further away than his hometown, though, Dorrsers wouldn't have bothered with it. "There's bigger prize money at the' big- ger ones," he reasons. "Around here, you USt G wr. might win something like,a T-shirt " Dorrsers t'eeenUy returned IrePt the Mfchigan State irlltam onsh1Ps, where he also egged flret, in Weight class, and' prhMing up for a, competiition Oji Lout liana, that loops .p omtiilzig.• Top honors in that match would'y'leld him a cool $1,500. That would buy some ]lord of T -Shirt. By 2¢,15, the Crowd at the Queen's was getting restless. sopa Around his Way to the stage, where the td -up platform had been ,set up earlier, and took up his refereeing position at one end of the table. The announcer rhymed off the rules. "I'll read 'off 'the t '-first," he crackl cd into the mike. ""If you're ,150 and I've put you in the over 200 class, let me know reeaaill-quick." Shoulders square, wrists straight at the start, poor sportsmanship riot allowed, no arguing with the officials....the rules went. on for a good five minutes. "It's a really well run sport," Zalepa had remarked earlier. "There are no foot rules. The on- ly ting you can't do is kick the other guy," the announcer continued. "....and I won't tell you where." One of the more interesting aspects of arm -wrestling is the freedom the feet and legs have. The Queen's match was what's known as a 'stand-up arm wrestling' com- petition, but standing was optional. A number of wrestlers twisted .their legs, pretzel -like, around the pipe legs of the table, or braced their feet against the side of the table legs prior to the starting signal for better leverage. In the more feverish matches, it's not unusual to see the op- THE BASICS OF THE ;SPORT are right here in the hand, as official • Rick Baarbe steadies the opponents at the start of a match. ponents gradually start levitating until not a foot is near the floor. Kicking out, flail- ing the legs and becoming airborne are all in the rulebook. Contesting the decision of the officials isn't. "If you look like you're going to break your arm, I'm sure you'd rather lose the match..", the announcer added drily. This is actually a real danger in this sport.' In one of the afternoon's contests, a Story, photos by Paula Elliott wrestler snapped down his hapless oppo- nent's arm in a split second for an easy win. The loser stepped off the stage and walked back towards the bar, his face set, rubbing his arm. The winner turned to the judge with a helpless shrug. "I felt something go in there, man.." The Queen's competition on Satur - y was a bit of an old,,boy's club gathering, with a lot of familiar faces on the circuit • • • STAND-UP ARM 'WRESTLING doesn't necessarily mean that the feet are always on the floor, as two airborne competitors demonstrate. travelling down en masse to take home some prize money. The Port Parry, Lon- don and Muskegon, Michigan teams were out in force and there was plenty of camaraderie between stare -downs at the wrestling platform. Most of these guys are professionals, and if the competition just isn't there for them, they won't risk their arms. But Terry Dorrsers feels that the outsiders may turn off locals who would enter. "This was more of a professional com- petition," he remarked. "I was expecting more people from around here...I think they may be scared away by the the out- side competition." Jean Barons of London rarely has that problem in the smaller contests. The sole woman in the London Aim Wrestling Club, Jean works out on the weights and trains against the men at the athth. "I went as a spectator once, got involv- ed and did pretty well," she recalled. A lot of the time, her competition evolves that way. • "Usually, we can talk one or two other people into going into it." When the stakes get high in arm- wrestling, Mark Zalepa pointed out, a challenger will pull out his bag of tricks to psyche out the competition. Glares and growls aren't out of the ordinary, and things often get weird and woolly. "There's guys who pull what I call 'snake crap"', Zalepa explained. "You have the guys with the cigarettes, the guys who slap the other guys faces..." "They way I wrestle is the way I look now," he added, clean-cut in glasses, dark sports pants and a button-down shirt. "I go in for the 'bookworm' look..", he grinned, "..so they'll underestimate me." The crowd hushed as two burly crushers took to the stage for semi-final heavyweight showdown. Rick Baarbe, a soft -spoke mountain of a man with seven Canadian titles and a World competition under his belt, clenched his opponent's mitt and positioned his feet, gripping the han- dle on the table with his free hand. "Go!" In a millisecond, Baarbe dispatched his opponent, released his grip and smiling, shook the loser's hand. His humbled rival hadn't underestimated Baarbe by a long shot. He returned the smile and slapped him heartily on the shoulder. "Thanks for not hurting me, buddy." 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