It’s a tight-knit community – a fraternity of sorts, filled with boys looking to and having become men.
They’re men who don’t hide behind a helmet and shoulder pads or look to a teammate to bail them out in the waning seconds of a game or make excuses pertaining to a difficult loss.
It’s not easy to get ingratiated in the wrestling community. The old adage reads, “If it’s easy, everyone would do it.”
I consider myself lucky to be a member, having poured five years of my life into perfecting takedowns and scrambles, pushing out that last mile on a scorching August day and monitoring every calorie I consumed for fear I wouldn’t make weight.
The International Olympic Committee told me Tuesday that the blood, sweat and tears I shed meant nothing.
The sport that has been a mainstay in every modern Olympiad since 1896, the sport that Ancient Greeks competed in during the first staging of the Games, will be auspiciously absent in 2020.
For some, it’s a welcome respite. There will be those who give a sigh of relief at not seeing barrel chested men clawing and grabbing for position in spandex, all the while inexplicably getting awarded points for seemingly standing around.
Or the sighs of relief that the women (yes, women wrestle) who defy gender stereotypes can go back to their rightful place in the kitchen or behind a desk.
Maybe I’m biased because of my background, but the aforementioned groups couldn’t be more off-base.
You see, there’s no professional wrestling league, no NFL, MLB or MLS for aspiring wrestlers to strive for.
Getting that Olympic gold medal placed around his or her neck is the pinnacle for any wrestler. It’s what five-year-olds in Iowa and Minnesota grow up dreaming about. It’s what keeps those college wrestlers stuck in the grind of an unforgiving season going.
Without that gold carrot dangling in the air, what is there to reach? NCAA Championships are special, but there’s ten of those per year. Winners are quickly forgotten, but gold medalists are etched in our country’s lore.
Take Henry Cejudo. Cejudo has no NCAA titles to his name. He grew up with a father in jail, a single mother to raise him and five siblings in the slums of Arizona and New Mexico.
How easy it would have been for Cejudo to give up. But there it was, that dangling gold carrot, propelling him forward.
Where is he now? A 2008 freestyle gold medalist now competing in mixed martial arts and one of the most recognizable figures in American wrestling.
I’ll admit, I never aspired to win a gold medal. To this day, I couldn’t tell you what kept me going on the mat. Mostly pride, maybe some fear of life without it.
But for the countless others who continually strive to be the best in the world, I guess you should just put your shoes in the center of the mat after your next match.
Thankfully, hope is not lost. The decision to drop the oldest sport in Olympic history still needs to be ratified by the full IOC in September. There’s time.
So, IOC and worldwide wrestling leaders, I’ll give you the same advice given to me by my high school coach.
Do your job.
