I Was a Teenage Weightlifter

Back in 1956, I started a high school weightlifting team, rounding up half-a-dozen bodybuilding buddies to compete against Lompoc High. 

I was attempting a 210-pound clean-and-jerk. Bending over the bar, I smiled up at my new girlfriend, sitting with my folks in the first row. In one fluid movement, I hoisted the bar about four feet then plummeted into a full squat beneath it. That’s when I heard the r-i-i-i-i-p, the gasps, and felt the sudden intimacy of cool air.

Later, Mom chided, “You couldn’t wear briefs over that silly jockstrap?” But confided: “I don’t think Rosalee saw anything, dear.”