Roller coaster

Wrestling is a brutal sport for parents. I feel sorry for my mom and dad, and occasional other family members who used to come watch me compete. Hours of sitting... and then a ride on an emotional roller coaster. It is great when we win but very hard to watch someone lose that you care about, especially when you know they can do better. I love coaching. There is something about it that drives me. I really enjoy trying to help others reach their goals. I think I like it better than competing myself. I used to hardly ever get nervous before I competed, but now as a coach I am a wreck at times. I know how hard some of these kids work, and how much they want to succeed. It is very hard for me to watch them loose, but awesome to watch them win and grow. I remember my sophomore season in high school, and a cross road that I came to, and one my mother did too. I was finally getting good, and was looking to place at state. In the district tournament, my weight class had the top four kids in the state, and we only took three. I had a bad tournament losing a close match in the semis, and then again for third place. I was utterly devastated, but so was my mother. This was one of the first times I realized how tuff it was to be a parent of a wrestler. My mother wanted me to win so badly. She prayed and prayed, and when I lost she was distruaght. She blamed God. That week she took pictures of Jesus off of our walls, and took the bible out of the living room. She felt like God turned his back on us. It was hard for me to watch my mother loose her faith, and difficult to understand. I don't believe her prayers went unanswered. I remember crying by myself in an empty hallway, making a promise to myself that this would never happen to me again. I was going to get better, I was going to be somebody. Everything was different for me after that. I wrestled all summer, attended camps, did push ups every morning and night, and ran in the off season. It was because of that bad tournament that I became successful. That devastation and dissapointment drove me to a higher level, that I probably would have never known had it not happened. I believe that is how God answered my mothers prayers. Sometimes it has to get worse so that it can get better.