Writer fast breaks for burgers; wrestlers fast break for mats

I cover the wrestling team. That's funny. It may not seem very funny, and you're probably not laughing right now.

I myself didn't realize it until a couple of days ago.

On Monday, I was standing in line at Fast Break -- you know, that lovable, convenient fast food joint in the basement of the HUB (they even accept points).

I was there immediately following my fourth and final class of the day, right before going to The Daily Collegian office to finish up an article on wrestling (naturally).

Well, I was hungry. Real hungry.

I scanned the menu while waiting in line, and I scanned my pockets for the trusted Penn State ID card to ensure I didn't have to resort to the dreaded cash option. This meal was on the parents.

The line, however, wasn't moving very rapidly. So I scanned the crowd to see what kind of people were waiting at Fast Break with me.

Almost immediately, someone caught my eye. It was a short, young Japanese man who I originally thought was the wrestling team's coaching assistant, Sanshiro Abe -- the very person I had to finish up a story on that day.

I began to open my mouth, armed with my familiar greeting -- "Hi coach

Abe!" -- when I decided to take a closer look at who I was about accost.

It's a good thing I did, because the man I was seeing was not Sanshiro Abe. It was just a close resemblance.

Silenced, I turned around and again scanned the menu. Cheeseburger, fries, chicken sandwich, hmmmmm. What was it going to be? As I went over the various delectable choices in my head, I began to think.

Why would Sanshiro Abe be at Fast Break? He's training for the 2000 Olympics these days. And he's got to work out with the Penn State guys all the time, too. More importantly, I thought, HE'S A WRESTLER.

Wrestlers don't go to places like Fast Break. At least I didn't imagine them to. I figured they just practiced all the time and ate maybe once a week -- a light salad or something on Friday night. Let them indulge themselves!

I'd always seen wrestlers running and lifting, doing sit-ups and sweating. But I'd never seen one at a fast food place.

I couldn't imagine seeing Jason Betz, the Nittany Lions' 126-pounder who always seems to be trimming weight, waltz into Fast Break to order a couple burgers, some fries and an extra large Pepsi before a match.

Or Abe, for that matter, interrupting his tightly strung Olympic practice regimen to thrash a few orders of greasy onion rings. I mean, didn't onion rings always go down well before a training session with a two-time NCAA champion and wrestling savage like Cary Kolat?

On the other hand, I thought, I could easily picture myself at a fast food place. Hell, I was at one RIGHT NOW.

It seemed that I was at Fast Break fairly often, actually. Almost every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, after classes and before going to the Collegian office. It was like a ritual for me.

But, as I was standing in line, I couldn't for the life of me picture myself running or lifting, doing sit-ups or sweating. An image of myself in these and various other seemingly stressful situations was not appearing in my head.

And that's what's so funny. The dichotomy of it all.

There are wrestlers and there are writers, writers and wrestlers. But there are no wrestler writers and no writer wrestlers.

One group starves itself and loses pounds and pounds of water, the other gorges itself and gains pounds and pounds of fat. One group sits in front of a coach, the other in front of a computer. One group considers work beating a tough opponent, the other considers work writing about it for the next day's paper.

It's just the way things work.

But maybe I could change things around, I thought with a sudden flash of passion.

Maybe I could become a wrestler of sorts while staying a writer at heart.

Maybe I could call Sanshiro Abe and work out with him and Cary Kolat, running and lifting, doing sit-ups and sweating.

Maybe I could break the dichotomy.

"Hi, welcome to Fast Break, can I help you?"

Nah, I thought. It just wasn't meant to be.