The Little Falls wrestling team was, at best, mediocre. On paper, we were easily the better team; our wrestlers had the better records, we’d performed better at tournaments, etc. But things began to go wrong for us that night right from the start. As soon as the match began, a fan in the Little Falls bleachers produced an air horn. Within the concrete and wood confines of the gym, the air horn’s bleats echoed endlessly, bouncing from floor to ceiling and back again. The more the bleats bounced, the more they seemed to gain in power, until, finally, they achieved…