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"Dear Wrestlers..." - Gina Perry, InterMat

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.

*****

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.

****


Post Script: the pain did finally ease. The good memories have overwhelmed the bad, and I hope my grandchildren wrestle, as well.
 
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.

*****

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.

****


Post Script: the pain did finally ease. The good memories have overwhelmed the bad, and I hope my grandchildren wrestle, as well.
Touching and yet so very true.

Thanks for posting. 🌈
 
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.

*****

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.

****


Post Script: the pain did finally ease. The good memories have overwhelmed the bad, and I hope my grandchildren wrestle, as well.
I had 2 boys wrestle. Both of them from around 6 or 7. Both made it to state. Both placed. I have no idea what you are talking about when you say "states" but it was very tough to see the second son go undefeated only to blow his MCL and tear his meniscus 2 weeks before sectionals. This was 3 years ago. he is now in college and I am happy both of them wrestled. The older son Graduated HS 8 years ago as well. He took out 2 top-ranked wrestlers his senior year. He could have wrestled in college...I taled him out of it and he thanks me to this day. Love the sport but both were ready to be done.
 
Thank you for sharing again Art.
Wrestling, the sport which demands so much, and gives so little in the end.
(From an award standpoint).
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.

*****

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.

****


Post Script: the pain did finally ease. The good memories have overwhelmed the bad, and I hope my grandchildren wrestle, as well.
 
I had 2 boys wrestle. Both of them from around 6 or 7. Both made it to state. Both placed. I have no idea what you are talking about when you say "states" but it was very tough to see the second son go undefeated only to blow his MCL and tear his meniscus 2 weeks before sectionals. This was 3 years ago. he is now in college and I am happy both of them wrestled. The older son Graduated HS 8 years ago as well. He took out 2 top-ranked wrestlers his senior year. He could have wrestled in college...I taled him out of it and he thanks me to this day. Love the sport but both were ready to be done.

My son really thought he wanted to wrestle in college, but he wasn't at the level where a scholarship was in the conversation, and scholastically he knew he needed to go to a small school where he would get individual attention. I think he just wanted the comradery of being on a team. But after a few months he realized college was a much bigger grind, to much less fanfare. In HS we always had decent crowds, the meets were covered in the local newspapers, when he walked down the hallways other kids knew him and when he walked down the street adults would give him an "atta boy."

You don't get that in DIII wrestling. It's a lonely sport that just takes a ton of time away from studies. He quit his Freshman year, but thankfully always kept a good relationship with the coach. His senior year he even did student teaching with him; and they spent class time watching the NCAAs! Lol!

Bottom line, I think you did a good thing talking him out of it.
 
Wrestling requires more sacrifice and has fewer college scholarships per high school participant than almost any other sport I can think of. I can certainly understand why guys give it up after high school. In particular, DIII is hard work, few fans, and no money.

I do think that there's a place for club and intramural wrestling though, and I encourage folks to find lower-commitment ways to practice "combat sports" in some way into adulthood, maybe like judo, BJJ, or sambo. I'm told that a background in wrestling makes all these sports much easier to pick up. One of my friends was a HS state champ and a sambo master. He told me that wrestling improved his sambo, and sambo improved his wrestling.
 
Nice article and nice additions by the group.

It's impossible to explain to most people the rationale for pursuing any goal that doesn't have a clear and direct benefit (money, career advancement), yet requires years of hard work, sacrifice, emotional set-backs, and self-inflicted pressure. And at the end of the road, unless you won an Olympic gold, you're left with only the nagging feeling that you could've done better. (Even if you're Randy Lewis, you're left with the nagging feeling that you could've won two.)

Gable talked about how we all have to face unavoidable difficulties in life, and how much easier it is to handle those difficulties when you've faced adversity in the past and coped with disappointment. Wrestling is shock therapy for life. You learn how to suck it up and move forward, because that's the only direction available.
 
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.

*****

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.

****


Post Script: the pain did finally ease. The good memories have overwhelmed the bad, and I hope my grandchildren wrestle, as well.

Very cool Art.
 
It really is a great article. Gina (& Willie) should be proud of this one. I enjoyed her perspective and focus on the benefits of the journey. As competitors, our focus is/was on gold medals, the wins and especially the losses.

I also liked Art's piece and Tarp's comments on set-backs & self-inflicted pressure. As fans, it's easy to lose sight of the fact, the wrestlers we cheer for place plenty of pressure on themselves. As high school & college season's and careers wind down, we should all appreciate their efforts and be reminded of the life lesson's learned by simply participating in the great sport of wrestling.

Thank you for the added comments & perspective.
 
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.

*****

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.

****


Post Script: the pain did finally ease. The good memories have overwhelmed the bad, and I hope my grandchildren wrestle, as well.
This hits home BIG TIME. True story: I NEVER wanted Gabe to wrestle. Wouldn't even let him start until he was 10 and then ONLY with me as his coach to begin. I needed him to appreciate it, love it, and respect it. I didn't want him to think there were expectations because of the family's past experiences. And when he was 13, I gave him to his club coach and I just became dad. (I'm a MUCH better dad than coach).

BTW, am I the only Hawkeye parent in here, or are there others who have given their child over to the perceived "darkside"....... :)
 
BTW, am I the only Hawkeye parent in here, or are there others who have given their child over to the perceived "darkside"....... :)
My boy wasn't good enough to wrestle there. And no way I'd let my kids go there otherwise. Took me a few years to recover from my 'education' in Iowa City. 😎 Just kidding, loved Iowa City, though that last sentence was kinda true.
 
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.

*****

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.

****


Post Script: the pain did finally ease. The good memories have overwhelmed the bad, and I hope my grandchildren wrestle, as well.
Thanks for re-posting this, Art. My kids don’t wrestle, but I can imagine how hard it must be as a wrestling parent. I appreciate your contributions to this board.
 
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