It’s 9 am in a stinky high school gym in the middle of nowhere near Orlando, Florida. The competition is starting late, I’m tired and nervous for my son’s upcoming semi-final match.
I hate wrestling.
My son, needing one more win to qualify for the state tournament, loses a hard fought match 2-1. Dejected and cowering in a corner of the gym by himself, my son was on the verge of elimination and one defeat from the end of his wrestling career.
Just a few feet away, another dad embraced his victorious son triumphantly – the kid who’d beaten my son (and qualified).
Yeah, I HATE wrestling.
At 11 am, though, things changed.
The loud slap of the referee’s hand hitting the mat signaled that my son had pinned his opponent. He’d reached his goal: he’s now a state qualifier!!!
His coach hoisted him into the air, and I charged down from the bleachers for a nasty, sweaty hug that I’ll not soon forget.
I choked up approaching my son, “I’m so damn proud of you, man.”
My son retreated to his awaiting huddle of overjoyed teammates, I bro-hugged our coach, telling him, “Man, he needed that. Thanks so much for everything.” I found a quiet corner to text my wife and extended family before taking a deep breath to collect myself just outside of the gym.
I LOVE wrestling.
For the next three days at home, my son was a mixed basket of hunger, nerves, insomnia, viral-coughing and sneezing, and school lethargy, taking an unjustified break from anything and everything school-related. Despite this questionable behavior he never missed his daily wrestling practices.
The misery of the wrestling season was wearing on me. All season my son teetered on the edge of his certified competition weight. Weight was so tight he’d started to carry a scale with him at all times – even taking it to the pizza shop he works at during a three-hour shift to make sure he didn’t over eat during his break.
My son’s “to-do” list was mounted, put on the back-burner for his commitment to wrestling. Taking a look at his sagging grades, the unfiled FAFSA form, with another week off of work and school looming, and yearning for him to check back in with the National Guard recruiters we’d recently been evading, by Tuesday evening the week of the state tournament I’d had enough wrestling.
“Ok, I’m giving you until states are over. After Sunday, though, you need to start showing this same level of commitment and discipline in other walks of your life. You have to get your sh*t together.”
I HATE wrestling.
The night before the team was set to leave for their chance at state titles, I braved the cesspool my son calls a bedroom to give him an 11 pm father/son pep talk.
“How you feeling?” I asked to break the ice.
“I’m good. I’ve got nothing to lose, right?” His wry smile told me that he was trying to convince himself of the words he was speaking. For him, qualifying was no longer good enough.
I continued to give my son some advice, “Try visualizing the day – what the arena will be like, what the mat will feel like, who your sparring partner will be, the music you’ll be playing. And keep visualizing the win – until you cannot imagine another outcome because you’ve already experienced this in your head over and over again.”
My son’s smile broadened, “Yep, Coach has been having us do that during practice. Thanks, Dad. I think I’m ready. Love you.”
Bro-hug and goodnight.
I LOVE wrestling.
The state tournament atmosphere was overwhelming, but my son seems relaxed when I spoke to him thirty minutes before his mat was assigned for his first match. Kids and parents were everywhere, all anxious and scrambling to find a decent vantage point to watch their loved one toe the line on one of the ten first round mats.
My son’s first match was as tough as expected – he was pinned in the second period by the eventual state runner-up. That was fine, we thought his chances were better to wrestle back anyway – until they weren’t.
About four hours into the 2024 FHSAA State Wrestling Tournament, my son’s wrestling career came to an abrupt and unceremonious ending. He lost a tough match to an opponent he could have beaten.
Season over.
My son was done.
My little boy turned young man was devastated.
As he falls limp into my arms I think this sucks.
I hate wrestling.
Both of us now chilling in the quiet corridor completely dejected, my son doesn’t look up as I break the silence, “You know, bud, you’ve exceeded every expectation you had, that I had, that any of your coaches had. We are all so proud of you. This will hurt, but, you should hold your head high. Your whole family is proud of what you accomplished to get here.”
Before my son could say anything, the heavy arena “Coach and Wrestlers Only” door swings open and his coach storms our way in his typical, high-energy style.
“Hey, what are you guys doing? This isn’t a sad thing, man. You were amazing!”
Coach continues, looking at my son in the eyes, “None of this matters – the losses, the wins, nothing. What you learned in practice, in the wrestling room with your teammates will help you the rest of your life. That’s what it’s about.”
Coach was right.
My son came to that realization a few days later, I think.
For now, though, the three of us stood together for a picture, not sad anymore. We, in fact, smiled as if we’d won the FHSAA state title that day.
I’m not sure I have ever felt such an overwhelming sense of pride.
I hope my son will feel this way again someday.
I hope I will, too.
God, I love wrestling.
Awesome piece my brother and I am very proud of the young man. Win or lose, wrestling teaches those that take up the grueling sport lessons that they will carry with them throughout their lives. Sacrifice, joy, pain, exhaustion, and pure elation are just some of the emotions every wrestler goes through and you get out of it what you put into it. Although a team sport, once a person toes the line, it becomes an individual endeavor. The better person at that moment always wins, and nothing is left up to a judge or committee. No matter the end result, every wrestler knows whether they gave it their all and whether or not the hard work and sacrifice was worth it. Those lessons will stay with Yosef for the rest of his life, and he will be a better
Man for having gone through it. I’m so proud of him and can’t wait to see what other things he accomplishes in the future. Thanks for sharing!