By Chris

    Do you remember a time in your life when one small thing changed you, gave you confidence, and made you feel like a million bucks?  I do!  It was Saturday, December 5, 1998, at my High School.  The event was the first wrestling match of the year and it was the day I won my first match, by a pin no less.  To know why this was so important to me you must know the history up to that exact point.  

    I started wrestling my freshman year in 1997; I wanted to wrestle in Middle School but was too lazy and too scared to join the team.  I made myself a promise that when I got to High School I would join the wrestling team.  Soon October rolled around it was time for practices to begin.  I still remember that first awful day; I don't think I ever come so close to death in my entire life.  Then, there was the second day and I came even closer.

    As the season progressed one thing became absolutely clear to me. . . I was really bad at the sport of wrestling.  Practices were tough.  I had never experienced anything like them before; each one was a brutal assault on my senses.  The room would get so hot.  Sweat would drip into my eyes and make them burn.  Moves would hurt and I didn't know how to do them.  My lungs were tight from all the running I wasn't used to doing that it would take hours before I would finally feel normal again.  I hated practice and wanted to quit but, excuse the cliche, something inside me told me to keep going.

    My first match my freshman year was a blur.  I think I was thrown on my back, cradled, and pinned in about 7 seconds.  I felt like crap; as the day wore on I saw others win their first matches and I carried a deep shame inside myself for losing.

    As my freshman moved on and practices got harder I felt it was time for some vacationing.  That vacationing cost me valuable practice time and got me fewer matches.  I was such a goof, always getting beat, made fun of, yelled at by older wrestlers and the coaches.  Some were nice and offered assistance to the poor pathetic little scrub.  Others scoffed.

    Soon the regular season was over and I hadn't won a match.  I was so ashamed.  Some people I had beat during practice that season had gone on to win a match.  It was the week of the Regionals that I was at my lowest point in wrestling.  I felt that I was nothing and would never be anything.  At the end of practice one day we were running fifteens.  Exhausted, unconfident, and defeated, I told Coach I couldn't go on.  I figured that would be my last day of practice.  In my moment of defeat and despair, a hand grabbed my arm and pulled me along; that hand belonged to Michael.  He pulled me back and forth through the room to fun my fifteens.  Then it struck me!  This is what it's all about, being on a team, helping the little guy out, improving and believing in yourself.  Michael told me, "You can do it," while we were running the last laps.  I broke away from him and finished fast and strong.  He renewed my faith in myself and wrestling.  To this day I owe what I've become and what I will be to him and to hose who helped and inspired him.

    The wresting year was over.  We didn't win state; I didn't win a match.  At the annual wrestling banquette I saw all the letters and awards being handed out and I sat there receiving only a little certificate and plaque saying I wrested that year.  You would think his would send me into another pit of doom and despair.  Instead it ignited a blazing fire in me.  The next year I knew I would wrestle, I would win, I would letter.

    Now back to December 5, 1998.  After months of weightlifting, practice, and a week at Coach's wrestling camp I was ready to win!  After the first round of varsity wrestling at the first match of the season the JV were up.  My name was called to the mat early on.  I was to wrestle some dude from Paduca Tighlman.  I took one look at him when I got out to the mat and decided he was nothing but a scrub.  I went out, strapped my green band around my ankle, and adjusted my head gear.  I got down in a low stance.  The ref blew his whistle.  I immediately shot for my opponents leg, dumped him over, and pinned him!  I could hear my dad and mom screaming from up in the stands.  I had never heard a sweeter sound in my entire life life than when the ref slapped his hand down on the mat indicating the match was over.  I saw my friends, Clint, Adam and John smiling and clapping for me.  I shook the losers had and ran off the mat to receive much praise and admiration.  

    I went on to letter that year, winning match after match, and feeling good about myself.  There were low points and high points but nothing can top the thrill and pure adrenaline rush of winning your first match.  Nothing can match the joy and pride I felt on that wonderful, glorious December morning.

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