this article was in the smithville herald in  2/22/2012

My first wrestling experience.

It all started on the baseball field; the determination, the starry eyes when he followed the ball, the fierce look when he tagged a kid out.  The problem is that Kolby had none of that.  Zero.  He did, however, play well in the dirt and thoroughly enjoy the snacks when it was all over.  Oh and when his older brother was playing baseball, he got along well with the other kids and had fun on his scooter.  This kid needs a sport.  A sport to call his own.

We signed him up for wrestling, cautiously.  “Can we just try it for a while before we actually pay?”  I had no idea if he would like it or not.  I watched the first practice only to find out later parents were not allowed in the practice room.  I had no idea how I was supposed to know if he was listening, goofing off, liking it, all the things I watch for when my kids are involved in something.

I quizzed him after everything practice.  I quizzed the coaches about how he was doing.  Everyone, in my opinion, gave me vague answers.  The fact is I needed more details than any normal person could possible give.   To further my issues with this wrestling “thing”, I knew nothing about it.  I actually had no idea what a good practice was?  Now if the kid came home after a gymnastics practice and told me what happened, I’d know.  But not with this mysterious sport.

I did have an opportunity to watch two practices, since the practice was held in a larger area.  I asked so many questions of other spectators, since I know so little.  I did notice something interesting though, my son is very flexible, extremely flexible.  Yeah, he got something from me, something that can actually help him.

I did finally pay, after asking Kolby if he wanted to continue.  He answered with a wholehearted YES, only to immediately start complaining about practice right after I handed the check over.   “Can I have that check back please,” I wondered to myself while he droned on about how hard practice was and that he’d rather be doing something else.   Every practice I had to hear this.  Geez, what have I gotten myself into.  From what I hear, his meets could consist of just a few seconds of mat time.   Will this be worth it?

Finally, it was time for the first meet.  We arrived early as requested to check in.  Early, amidst the overwhelming sea of parents also there to watch their little one.  I could barely get through and then I could hardly find a place to sit down.  And why did I wear a long sleeve shirt, it’s hot!   The meet started late.  But, I was patient.  Then  it was time for his first match.  Thirty seconds later, it was over.  He didn’t win.    Oh and he informed me that the reason he didn’t win is because I wasn’t cheering for him.  “Mom, if people cheer for you, it makes you do better, cheer for me next time!”   Being a mom means you are always in trouble.  How is that my fault?  Isn’t it the coach’s fault?  Kolby’s?  Whatever!?

An hour or so later we’ll get another chance.  He’ll get another chance.  I had fulfilled my obligation and written down the bracket, taken him to the line up and then dutifully sat in the stands waiting for him to come out and wrestle Mr. Opponent #2.  But he never came out.   After waiting 45 minutes I dared to cross the line where no parent should go and ask, “Why didn’t my son wrestle?”  The bracket changed, was the reply, he had a BUY.   “And how am I supposed to know this?”  After being told I should just check the wall, at which I replied, “I did several times,” a nicer lady explained that she had finally learned to always check the wall AFTER the first match, that many times things change. 

So here I was, three months into wrestling.  Five hours into our first meet and I had watched my son get beat after thirty seconds.  I was done.  I can’t take it.   The hot dogs are expensive.  Kolby was ready to go.  Kyle and hubby were also ready to go. 

But we wouldn’t do that.  We will finish this out, we won’t let our kids quit.  We’ll politely finish the season, no more meets and then we’ll find another sport.   I wonder if there is a boxing place nearby.

In spite of our frustration, we got excited when it was time for the next match.   I will cheer, loudly.  He starts doing his thing, dancing around the mat, reaching out to the opponents face, teasing him.  Then it happens.  The opponent starts to take Kolby down and Kolby turns the tables on him.  I am cheering like a crazy lady!! 

The referee is also dancing around, lying on the mat, and raising this hand, then that hand, blowing his whistle.  Wow, all of this suddenly seems important.

Kolby continues to dominate this one minute match and the next two that follow.  I’m pretty sure I see the fierce look I was looking for in the ball field.   I know I see the determination.  In the end, Kolby pins the kid.  When it’s over the referee holds up Kolby’s arm.  AMAZING!  The look on his face!  I capture it in my mind and will never let this moment go.  He is so excited.  I see it.  The starry eyes!  The huge smile and the confident look on his face.  And he did it all alone.  Just him.  He runs to my husband and says, “Dad, this is the BEST DAY OF MY LIFE!”

The rest of the day was a blur.  He lost one more match and won one more.  During those few more hours, as the meet started to go faster, I was so appreciative of all the coaches.  They were there every time for him, encouraging him, helping him, cheering for him.  After his second win, the same confident smile was there.  I had never seen this in my son before.  It was all worth it.  I was ready to cry and ready to attend any meet he wanted to go to.  We found his sport, expensive hot dogs and all.