Our wrestling team was very good that year, with my fellow wrestlers piling up enough wins and points over the course of our matches against other schools that my own personal results–whether I won, lost, or hyperventilated–had no bearing whatsoever on the rest of the team. By the time we got around to my bout, which was always the very last bout of the match, the score was usually so lopsided in our team’s favor that my bout was a formality, and nothing more.

That year I lived in fear of just one thing: that the outcome of a match against another school would, at some point, come down to me.

I’d lucked out so far, collecting forfeits, taking embarrassing, wheezing losses when I had to take them, and beating the other, flabby forfeit collectors when and where I could.

Then one Saturday morning against a very good team from Utica that our team was not supposed to beat, the match score was tight going into the 177-pound bout. Our team was ahead, though only by only a couple of points. The coach was visibly excited, because no one thought we had a chance against this team.

The 177-pound bout, for the record, was the bout that preceded the 225-pound bout. Our 177 pounder, Mark Francisco, unfortunately had to wrestle Utica’s best wrestler: a mythical beast who was only in the 11th grade but was already so hormonally evolved that he sported a full Tom Selleck mustache. Anyone with such advanced facial hair absolutely terrified us. Not only did this 11th grader have a frighteningly thick mustache, he was also enjoying an undefeated season and already had the attention of several college scouts.

Once the coach sent Mark out to the mat where he would meet his doom, he turned to me and said, “Be ready, Jones.” What “Be ready, Jones” meant was this: When Mark loses, this whole thing here? It all comes down to you.

Mark scored an early takedown against The Mustache, which stunned the rowdy Utica gymnasium into silence. But The Mustache was far from finished. He reversed his way out of a tight spot, then took Mark down.

Back and forth they went, with The Mustache scoring points, then Mark scoring points. I’m telling you, I cheered myself hoarse that morning. In the final moments of the bout, with Mark down by a point and The Mustache, winded and stalling for time, Mark dove for his legs. When Mark took him down one final time–The Mustache toppled over like tree–it was official: he had pulled off the upset victory.

I have never been so elated by a sporting event. Mark’s win gave our team enough points for a decisive victory, regardless of the outcome of my bout. In other words, I would be wrestling for nothing once again, which was exactly where I wanted to be.

With our team still raucously celebrating Mark’s victory, I quietly took off my robe, went out to the mat, and was pinned by Utica’s heavyweight (who was also pretty good) in less than a minute. Then we all boarded our bus and went straight to the Utica McDonald’s for a well deserved victory meal.

Level 3-2. I begin today’s level standing in a very narrow, very ship-y corridor on the lefthand side of the screen. Behind me is an enemy type that I’ve never seen before. It looks like a knight’s helmet wearing slippers. The knight’s helmet promptly produces a shield/plow type object, then runs after me, basically shoving me along the corridor the same way that a snowplow moves snow or a Justin Bieber bodyguard moves teenaged girls. He knocks me clear out of his corridor and off a ledge. I helplessly drop down to a second narrow corridor on a lower tier, where–adding insult to injury–a second slipper-wearing knight’s helmet is waiting for me. He produces his shield-plow and proceeds to push me to left this time, until he knocks me clear out of his corridor.

Once his corridor is me-free, the knight puts away his shield-plow. He turns his back on me and begins to stalk off in the opposite direction. I must get past him somehow, because I need to use the ladder at the very end of his corridor to reach the upper tiers of this level. Because his corridor is so narrow, and Mario is so charmingly fat, I can’t jump over the knight’s helmet. Each time I set foot in his corridor, he senses that I’m there. He turns around, lowers his shield-plow and shoves me out again.

Then I notice that the ceiling in his corridor doubles in height once he’s closer to the ladder. That should be enough room for Mario’s flabby ass to clear him. So I wait for him to stalk far enough away from me. Then I run-waddle along his corridor. He senses me. He turns towards me and lowers his shield-plow. Once I’m in the double height portion of the corridor, I hit the jump button, barely clearing him as he rushes towards me.

It’s an exciting moment, folks.

I climb the ladder, only to encounter a new danger: a hermit crab-type of enemy. He moves slowly, inching left and right. Sometimes, he even falls sound asleep and stops moving altogether. His most dangerous move: his extended claw, which pokes from the side of his body at random intervals.

The crab stands between me and the exit door on the right side of the screen, so I’ll see him again soon. But first, I need to acquire the key. It’s at the very top of the level. I need to use a clothesline-trapeze to reach it. I grab onto it, then begin spinning. I spin, spin, spin, spin, spin, spin, spin, then let go, only to sail too high and fly too far.

I land on a platform above the key. I grab Pauline’s handbag, which happens to be up here (yes!), then make my way back down to give this spin thing another shot. Once I’m on the clothesline-trapeze again, I only spin, spin, spin this time before letting go. And I land exactly where I need to land: on the platform next to the key.

I grab it, then begin my descent. I wait for the crab to move away from the ladder leading up to the exit door. I toss the key up to the platform where the door is (remember, Mario can’t climb when he has the key), then hustle up the ladder before the key starts blinking. I grab it, then stand in front of the door. Level 3-2 is now complete.