Stoughton High freshman wrestler Igor Kaminski and a teammate tumble around on a practice mat like two cubs at the zoo, playfully wriggling free of the other's grasp.
They know each other's strengths, yet Kaminski does not know what his practice partner looks like. And he doesn't have a visual image of his other junior-varsity teammates, or the crowd that cheers them on during meets, or the coach whose familiar voice shouts instructions to him.
Kaminski is visually impaired. He can see shadows and occasionally make out shapes, but he is legally blind. Through wrestling, he has found acceptance and begun a journey to independence that could help him beyond the mat.
"This is very important," said Josee Klentak, a teacher who works with visually impaired students in Stoughton. "It's a ticket to having a social life. It's something to have in common with other kids and something to be proud of."
Robert and Katrina Kaminski enrolled their eldest son in a number of activities as he was growing up. They tried martial arts, but the sport did not keep his interest.
Then, in a recreational program in middle school, Kaminski discovered wrestling. It interested him because, he said, "it's a sport that conditions your body and teaches you to compete."
Stoughton wrestling coach Matt Colantonio spotted Kaminski and could tell he would be a serious competitor. Kaminski joined the team.
For classmates who knew him, it was not a big deal. But for others, wrestling someone who is blind was, at first, something of a challenge.
"They didn't know how to react to him in the beginning," said Colantonio, who is also an assistant principal at the O'Donnell Middle School. "He's an unbelievable trash-talker, and he has this jovial joking manner about him that eased the kids a little bit."
Matters also were eased by a little education. Stephanie Chmielinski, an orientation and mobile specialist with the Stoughton schools, led the wrestling team through a series of exercises to help teach the athletes how to navigate without sight.
The wrestlers all closed their eyes as Colantonio explained a complicated move that he wanted them to mimic. "None of them could do it," he said.
Kaminski said the sessions were helpful for his teammates.
"It was crazy," he said. "Half the people couldn't [perform the move]. It was like now they get to know what it's like to be visually impaired."
Chmielinski then taught the students how to lead someone who is blind. They learned to give verbal cues like "turn left" or "step up" to help Kaminski navigate the area safely.
After a series of sessions, Colantonio said he could see the team was gaining comfort in working with Kaminski.
"All of a sudden it clicked after that," Colantonio said. "That week for me really turned it around, and Igor was just another kid on the team."
The grapplers learned to give Kaminski play-by-play during a match so that he could understand what was going on. His teammates instinctively offer an elbow to guide him around the obstacles of book bags and chairs.
Freshman Luca Venterosa would watch coaches demonstrate moves. He would then demonstrate the move himself so that Kaminski could, by touch, understand how it went, and mimic it with his own body.
"It wasn't awkward at all," Venterosa said. "I just worked with him."
Colantonio talked with veteran coaches in the area, and researched how he could help Kaminski compete. In the process, he discovered that wrestlers with visual impairments were more common than he had expected.
Before each match, a coach guides Kaminski to the center mat. From the neutral position, opponents are facing each other, and the opponent must maintain constant contact with Kaminski. Most of the time that is by touching palms.
"He can't see to set up his takedowns or shots, and he needs to be able to feel that," Colantonio said.
It is the only significant adjustment for an opponent. Everything else is the same.
From the top and bottom positions, a lack of vision is not an issue, Colantonio said.
"You could make the argument that you should be so good that you could make those moves with your eyes closed," he said.
Kaminski wrestles at 112 pounds. He did not win a match this season, but he earned points, and like his fellow junior varsity wrestlers, Colantonio said, "he is taking a beating and learning as much as possible."
Kaminski said he is looking forward to next season because he plans to increase his workouts.
"It's like an introductory year," Kaminski said. "I'll really dive into it next year because I know what it's like now."
Sophomore Matt Richard, who weighs 103 pounds, drills with Kaminski, working with him to master key moves. And every now and then a joke or two escapes to lighten the mood.
"He makes jokes and we joke with him," Richard said. "He's not afraid to speak his mind."
As the season has progressed, Kaminski's teammates have learned about his past in Poland and how he lost his eyesight. When Kaminski was born prematurely, doctors placed him in an incubator, but his eyes were not taped shut, said his mother, Katrina. Doctors would later explain that her son's retinas were damaged because of overexposure to oxygen.
Katrina Kaminski read a story in her local paper about a family who had had a similar experience, and had taken their daughter to Boston for surgery.
She put up fliers and made calls in an attempt to raise $50,000 to get her son to the Massachusetts Eye and Ear Infirmary. It took her a year to raise $24,000, and the family traveled to Boston, a place she had not heard of before reading the article.
"I expected after surgery he would wake up and say, 'Mommy, I can see you,' but it didn't happen like that," Katrina Kaminski said.
With the surgeries came complications, and glaucoma developed. The family stayed in Boston, found work, and daughter Nicole was born, as the family continued to hold out hope that one of the many surgeries would result in restored vision for Kaminski. So far that has not happened.
Eight years ago, the family moved to Stoughton. Katrina Kaminski said her son is adjusting. He turns in his homework in Braille and has developed ways of getting around. She worries about how he will get along in the community without the support of a school.
Those fears are what feed her constant hope of a miracle surgery some day.
"There is hope," she said. "You never know."
It is a hope that Igor Kaminski shares. His dream would be to walk around one day without a cane.
"I keep my eyes open for anything that might improve my vision. They come out with all kinds of medical science."
Monique Walker can be reached at mwalker@globe.com.
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