Since there's no content to write in the sport I normally write about, I brewed this up in twenty-ish minutes today. I can't edit for shit, but I hope you enjoy it...
A Penn State freshman making the final was nothing new at that point. Taylor had done it, Megaludis had done it. Nolf had reached the zenith as well. But Nico never really had a chance and Nolf was staring down a megalithic predator out of the Triassic period. Among the three, Taylor alone had a shot. He could have won, maybe even should have won, but a single misstep spoiled his ascension.
If football is a game of inches fought between the lines, wrestling is one of imperceptible advantages leveraged between a knife's edge and a vat of bubbling acid. A season can come down to a single moment. A gambit that can serve as coronation or damnation. Taylor stumbled at the final hurdle, spoiling his claim at godhood. Though in a favorable position and far more skilled, he was undone in an instant.
The scenario was so eerily similar, that maybe we should have seen it coming. Because unlike Nico and Nolf, Bo Nickal had a chance. In fact he was the favorite as he and fellow freshman Myles Martin took center stage. But, like Taylor, he fell short. He interhetited Taylor’s legacy, the one who could have been a four time champion in the style of his coach and mentor, but found his path barred.
As a freshman, it had been fate that intervened. Fickle and tempestuous, it denied them entry to the promise land with callous indifference. The next enemy was far more tangible, painted red with a C emblazoned on his chest. Gabe Dean was Kyle Dake reincarnated. Hulking, brutish and deft, he was a very familiar beast. And, just as Dake had, he looked poised to serve as gatekeeper and cement Bo Nickal as David Taylor's successor.
They said David Taylor was a generational talent who could not be duplicated, but Bo Nickal proved to be his equal in every respect. Explosive, adaptable, inventive and electric, he was cut from the very same cloth. It was all of that, along with his daring fearlessness, which had doomed Bo against Myles Martin and turned bravado into hubris. Live by the sword and die by the sword, it's the nature of the sport. The same magic that brought him to that point as a freshman doomed him and very well could have defined him as a sophomore.
Another loss. Another second place. Was this how Bo Nickal would be remembered?
But it wasn’t to be because Bo Nickal had learned from his failures. He turned disappointment into growth and stormed the mat against Dean, controlling the pace from the first whistle, matching strength for strength and pitting fluidity against unyielding force. Seven minutes later and he had emerged victorious where Taylor had not. He had bested the Cornell brute and stamped his name into the history against a supposedly superior foe. For the second time that night, a Penn State wrestler had flipped the wrestling world on its head. People across the nation gasped in shock. But those in Happy Valley, those who believed in Cael and what he was building, those who had seen Bo Nickal’s magic on so many occasions, were not. This was Bo. Plain and simple. He may have won where Taylor had not, but they really were one in the same.
When one looks at Bo Nickal, it’s not immediately apparent how he snaps with such inexorable force or goes toe to toe with some of the muscle bound titans of the 184 landscape. He’s gangly, with a goofball grin that stretches all the way from one cauliflowered ear to another. He looks more at home doing flips off bales of hay than sweating in the weight room. But wrestling isn’t weightlifting and it’s not about seeing who can pick up and put down the heaviest optimally shaped object. It’s about moving people and being moved by them. And no one does that better than Bo.
To say Bo is fluid would be selling him short. He’s slick like greased lightning and his confidence in his abilities is unfailing. He’ll put it all on the line without hesitation and punish those who are not so willing. Because Bo thrives in chaos, in the pitch black labyrinths many wrestlers shy from. They want collar lies and single legs. Bo wants ankle picks, trips, spladles and throws all while being able to scramble unlike anyone else his size. But, if the moment demands it, he’ll gladly match an opponent blow for blow because his no doubts in his proficiency in that arena as well. Those wiry muscles are stronger than steel cables and Bo understands the art of applying force better than anyone in NCAA wrestling. His length and athleticism are an asset in every way. He is not the prototypical upper weight wrestler. No, that would be someone more akin to Dean. But Bo is not made from that mold. He the same brand of freestyling magician as Taylor, while still being every bit his own man.
There’s nothing wrong with being David Taylor. He’s one of the greatest college wrestlers and played a major part in Penn State’s rise to prominence. He paved the way from wrestlers like Nolf and Bo, showing that wrestling doesn’t have to look like a street fight. Settling for Taylor’s legacy is far from a punishment. It is an honor to be mentioned in the same breath. Bo still has a long way to go to reach that lofty perch, but he’s every bit a worthy aspirant. As long as wrestlers are afraid of the darkness, Bo Nickal will thrive. He has become the wrestler he is by exploiting and magnifying every advantage he holds over his opponent. He takes them where they don’t want to go and he crushes them with their own uncertainty. He is the king in chaos - the man who holds court where others dare not go.
Bo Nickal: The King in Chaos
They said it wouldn't happen again. After all, David Taylor was a generational talent to the degree that Penn State would be lucky to see another like him in ten lifetimes. And yet, five years later, an arena, a fan base and an entire sport watched as his legacy played out once more.
A Penn State freshman making the final was nothing new at that point. Taylor had done it, Megaludis had done it. Nolf had reached the zenith as well. But Nico never really had a chance and Nolf was staring down a megalithic predator out of the Triassic period. Among the three, Taylor alone had a shot. He could have won, maybe even should have won, but a single misstep spoiled his ascension.
If football is a game of inches fought between the lines, wrestling is one of imperceptible advantages leveraged between a knife's edge and a vat of bubbling acid. A season can come down to a single moment. A gambit that can serve as coronation or damnation. Taylor stumbled at the final hurdle, spoiling his claim at godhood. Though in a favorable position and far more skilled, he was undone in an instant.
The scenario was so eerily similar, that maybe we should have seen it coming. Because unlike Nico and Nolf, Bo Nickal had a chance. In fact he was the favorite as he and fellow freshman Myles Martin took center stage. But, like Taylor, he fell short. He interhetited Taylor’s legacy, the one who could have been a four time champion in the style of his coach and mentor, but found his path barred.
As a freshman, it had been fate that intervened. Fickle and tempestuous, it denied them entry to the promise land with callous indifference. The next enemy was far more tangible, painted red with a C emblazoned on his chest. Gabe Dean was Kyle Dake reincarnated. Hulking, brutish and deft, he was a very familiar beast. And, just as Dake had, he looked poised to serve as gatekeeper and cement Bo Nickal as David Taylor's successor.
They said David Taylor was a generational talent who could not be duplicated, but Bo Nickal proved to be his equal in every respect. Explosive, adaptable, inventive and electric, he was cut from the very same cloth. It was all of that, along with his daring fearlessness, which had doomed Bo against Myles Martin and turned bravado into hubris. Live by the sword and die by the sword, it's the nature of the sport. The same magic that brought him to that point as a freshman doomed him and very well could have defined him as a sophomore.
Another loss. Another second place. Was this how Bo Nickal would be remembered?
But it wasn’t to be because Bo Nickal had learned from his failures. He turned disappointment into growth and stormed the mat against Dean, controlling the pace from the first whistle, matching strength for strength and pitting fluidity against unyielding force. Seven minutes later and he had emerged victorious where Taylor had not. He had bested the Cornell brute and stamped his name into the history against a supposedly superior foe. For the second time that night, a Penn State wrestler had flipped the wrestling world on its head. People across the nation gasped in shock. But those in Happy Valley, those who believed in Cael and what he was building, those who had seen Bo Nickal’s magic on so many occasions, were not. This was Bo. Plain and simple. He may have won where Taylor had not, but they really were one in the same.
When one looks at Bo Nickal, it’s not immediately apparent how he snaps with such inexorable force or goes toe to toe with some of the muscle bound titans of the 184 landscape. He’s gangly, with a goofball grin that stretches all the way from one cauliflowered ear to another. He looks more at home doing flips off bales of hay than sweating in the weight room. But wrestling isn’t weightlifting and it’s not about seeing who can pick up and put down the heaviest optimally shaped object. It’s about moving people and being moved by them. And no one does that better than Bo.
To say Bo is fluid would be selling him short. He’s slick like greased lightning and his confidence in his abilities is unfailing. He’ll put it all on the line without hesitation and punish those who are not so willing. Because Bo thrives in chaos, in the pitch black labyrinths many wrestlers shy from. They want collar lies and single legs. Bo wants ankle picks, trips, spladles and throws all while being able to scramble unlike anyone else his size. But, if the moment demands it, he’ll gladly match an opponent blow for blow because his no doubts in his proficiency in that arena as well. Those wiry muscles are stronger than steel cables and Bo understands the art of applying force better than anyone in NCAA wrestling. His length and athleticism are an asset in every way. He is not the prototypical upper weight wrestler. No, that would be someone more akin to Dean. But Bo is not made from that mold. He the same brand of freestyling magician as Taylor, while still being every bit his own man.
There’s nothing wrong with being David Taylor. He’s one of the greatest college wrestlers and played a major part in Penn State’s rise to prominence. He paved the way from wrestlers like Nolf and Bo, showing that wrestling doesn’t have to look like a street fight. Settling for Taylor’s legacy is far from a punishment. It is an honor to be mentioned in the same breath. Bo still has a long way to go to reach that lofty perch, but he’s every bit a worthy aspirant. As long as wrestlers are afraid of the darkness, Bo Nickal will thrive. He has become the wrestler he is by exploiting and magnifying every advantage he holds over his opponent. He takes them where they don’t want to go and he crushes them with their own uncertainty. He is the king in chaos - the man who holds court where others dare not go.
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