It’s official. The match of the century will be going down this Monday at 6:30 p.m in the lobby of the Downing University Center. And no, I’m not talking about the Ali-Foreman “Rumble in the Jungle.”
This Monday, I’m going to bring down the pain on our illustrious president Gary Ransdell at the arm wrestling table.
I know what the five and a half of you that read this column regularly are wondering. Wasn’t Hollan supposed to wrestle Ransdy at the football stadium, and wasn’t that match supposed to take place 12 days from now?
Well, if you’re a math major and have a good memory, you’re right. Those were the date and place that had been offered in the past.
To offer an explanation, I’d like to say that I changed everything around because it’s getting chilly outside and Ransdell is a sissy, but I can’t. Lying is frowned upon in this office.
The change is all due to a scheduling issue. Strangely enough, university presidents – unlike columnists – work for a living. (I am scratching that off my list of career possibilities as I type.)
Last week’s fall break left me plenty of time for introspection about the match. I’ve come to the conclusion that challenging Ransdell has ended my year-and-two-month career in legitimate journalism. The only place I can go from here is replacing Barbara Walters.
But since hosting Oscar specials is not my style, I figured that I should focus on the task at hand, raining down more pain on Ransdell than Hurricane Lilly.
I’ve learned one thing from cringing at the St. Louicide of my winless Rams; talent isn’t everything. I need to train for this.
The first key to my training regiment is salad. I figure that by pairing it with a variety of health foods, such as potato chips and cheese fries, I’ll be down to a respectable weight. Getting the “free ice cream hookup” from my friend in the food service industry has helped the cause, as well.
Building up a sizable girth is nothing without a hefty wrasslin’ arm. To build this, I’ve been working my Grip-Master with religious furor. It comes along with me wherever I go, and the 15 minutes between my classes is ample time for an exhausting forearm workout.
My originally toothpick-sized left arm now resembles a pregnant popsicle stick, thanks to quality time with BEGINITALmyENDITAL Grip-Master.
I never would have thought 1,000 daily repetitions with that $10 black and red spring-loaded hand grip I bought at Wal-Mart would do so much for me.
A champion is not complete without a good education. For mine, I chose the 1985 arm wrestling movie “Over the Top,” starring ever-so-sly Sylvester Stallone.
It was a veritable gold mine of arm wrestling strategies. Apparently, in order to be the best, I must always turn a trucker-style polyester baseball cap backwards before starting a match, wear overalls, drive a big rig at high speeds and constantly lift weights. I took careful note of that last tip as I popped another Butterfinger in my mouth like a Tic-Tac.
So here I am, Ransdy; over-confident and under-prepared. I’ll see you Monday night.
Picks O’ the Week
Help some fellow WKU students out and go to the “The American Dream” sketch comedy revue tonight at the Russell Miller Theater in the fine arts center. The show, put on by a troupe of Western students and alumni, is called The Sunshine Express and starts at 8 p.m. It’ll set you back $2. (Note to readers: these guys contacted me three times on Tuesday about getting in the sacred Superpicks, so do them and me a favor and go.)
In yet another shameless stab at self-promotion, Hollan Holm will be arm-wrestling WKU President Gary Ransdell Monday night at 6:30 p.m. in the DUC lobby. If Hollan wins, he gets Ransdell’s parking spaces for one week. If he loses, Hollan must walk Randsdell’s dog Topper for a week. The cost of the event is free, but if you want to hand Hollan cash, that’s just peachy.
What’s Hollan Holm’s prediction for the fight? Prediction . PAIN!!! Why not e-mail him at [email protected]?