I cried the first time my son stepped off the mat at the age of 7 and cried the very last time he stepped off the mat at 18. I’ve had a love/hate relationship with the sport since his first tournament. Granted I’ve loved it more than hated it. This sport has helped shape my kid into the well-rounded, disciplined & humble man he is.
Wrestling will always hold a huge place in my heart. For the past 11 years, we’ve planned our life around wrestling season. Vacation time has been used to go to tournaments, birthday parties scheduled for Sunday afternoons. I did Elementary State rosters from my hospital bed after having my youngest son who attended his first state tournament at the “Dungeon” when he was only 7 days old.
I’m not going to lie, I’ve dreaded this past Saturday for the last 2 years. I knew in 6 minutes it was all going to be over. No more stinky practice clothes & eye watering knee pads to wash, no more “what did you weigh in & out” before supper. No more 5 am mornings, driving miles to sit on hard bleachers & hoping you’ve packed enough entertainment & snacks for your younger two. No more yelling “2” or “up and out”, my 2 signature phrases. No more victory, no more defeat. This is not his ending, it’s his beginning.
