I posted this eight years ago, when my son's high school career ended. Now, all these years later, he is absolutely a better man than he would have been without wrestling. I won't waste space bragging about him, but I will say I don't think any other sport has as many similar stories of personal growth.
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My son started wrestling when he was seven years old. This weekend he wrestled his last high school match, and although he had a very nice career he fell just short of the goals he had set for himself. He finished with 98 career varsity wins -- two short of what it takes to get his name on the wall in our high school gym -- and missed qualifying for states thanks to two excruciatingly close matches. It was even more painful because we had four meets that were snowed-out this year, otherwise his 100 wins would have been assured. And his bracket was loaded with returning state qualifiers, so he knew from the start that qualifying at his weight was going to be a big challenge. But nonetheless he came tantalizingly close to beating a couple of extremely high caliber wrestlers, only to see the matches slip away; which only added to the pain.
After his last match he ran outside and cried for about an hour. When he finally came back, and I saw him for the first time, the pain in his face was indescribable, and something I will never be able to erase from my mind. You have to understand that he worked unbelievably hard to try to meet the goals he had set for himself. He wrestled year round, and between lifting, running, and wrestling he did some kind of training 365 days out of every year. I could see in his eyes a sense that life had betrayed him; that if you work that hard towards a goal, you ought to be rewarded.
Wrestling can be brutal; physically and emotionally. And I won't lie, for the better part of the weekend I wondered if it might have been a mistake to get him involved in the sport -- because I suspect this last day of his career will haunt him for the rest of his life. I wondered if anything is worth going through the pain he has gone through.
However, I've also watched him gain confidence through the sport that I don't believe he could have ever achieved without wrestling. He carries himself with self-assurance that absolutely came from testing himself repeatedly, and from the many accomplishments that he did achieve. The last couple of years he helped coach the junior program, and by doing so he learned leadership skills and learned how to speak confidently in front of groups. I have truly been amazed at what a fine young man he has become, and I know to a large extent wrestling is responsible. And, yes, even the pain of failure has built his character and made him stronger.
I know the people reading this don’t know me and don’t know my son. But I can't say these words out loud to my wife and friends without breaking into tears. And yet I need to get the words out -- preferably to people who know exactly what I'm talking about -- because there is no pain more exquisite than watching your child hurting. In the end, I take solace that he will heal from the pain more quickly and more completely than I ever will.
I'm glad he wrestled. I've never been sadder in my life. But I am glad he wrestled.
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Post Script: the pain did finally ease. The good memories have overwhelmed the bad, and I hope my grandchildren wrestle, as well.