The Importance of Family

I was a senior in high school. I had already been accepted to Penn State on a wrestling scholarship and was up against Anthony Paine for the State Title. Rated as the top seed in the tournament, Anthony was a massive guy who looked completely shredded. He was undefeated with twenty wins and was predicted to win. I was second with a record of 15-3. Even though I knew he was presumably better than me, I wasn’t nervous. I had already put the work in, I knew I could beat him, and it was time to perform.

My entire body felt disgusting, as sweat from other burly dudes was on me from the four other matches I had wrestled that day. I felt like a big piece of hot meat marinating in sweat. Even in this condition, I still powered through, hearing my coach screaming what to do and the crowd roaring. 

Anthony liked single legs. A single leg is a move where you basically dive in for one of the opponent’s legs and take them down using their leg. This was Anthony’s favorite move on the feet. Right off the whistle, he dove for my leg; anticipating this, I jumped out of the way and tried to get behind him. We both knew what each other would go for, and both of us were ready to counter. At the end of the first period, Anthony dove one more time and successfully took me down, gaining two points. The score was 0-2. Now, it was the second period and it was my choice to pick a position. In wrestling, there are three positions: neutral, top, and bottom. In every match, the wrestlers start in a neutral stance – but, after the first period, there is a coin-toss, and the lucky wrestler chooses one of the three to start, and then, the other wrestler chooses a position at the start of the last period, if there is one. Usually, wrestlers chose bottom because if they escape and go to neutral they already get one point. That’s what I did: I chose bottom. As the whistle blew, I almost jumped up to my feet, and wrestled out of his grip, gaining one point. The score was 1-2. I was still losing. I needed at least one takedown. I set up my high-crotch. A high-crotch is a move where you also dive in for a leg, but your head is on the other side. On a single leg, your head is on the inside. On a high-crotch, your head is on the outside. I got in on the leg and was about to cut across, but then he hit an assassin. An assassin is for when your opponent goes for the high-crotch, and when they are cutting across, you take their head, and put them directly on their back. This was really bad – I almost got pinned. But after struggling on my back for almost ten seconds, I finally got out – but he got 2 points for a takedown, and 3 backpoints for exposing my back for five seconds. The score was 1-7. I was down 6 points, and it was the third period. 

Anthony chose neutral, which was unusual. “Do that move!” my coach screamed. Once he said that, I had a plan. As the whistle blew, I was looking for openings to hit this move. It was do-or-die. I clubbed him hard on the head (a legal move) and felt him give in the slightest bit. That was when I knew I could hit that. I wrapped his arm and head in my arms and sat my hips through, throwing him. After feeling him struggle on his back, the ref slammed the mat. I pinned him, having used an advanced reverse-pretzel.

 I still felt like a meat-machine, clothed in a singlet and face pressed with the stitch marks from the mat. My hand was thrown to the sky as the victor, but I didn’t feel like one. The advanced reverse-pretzel is not a forbidden move, but because it is extremely difficult to pull off, and easy for the opponento punish, the organizers thought that no one would actually try it in a match. Most people would be happy, but seeing my opponent writhe in pain made my stomach twist. I might have won the state finals, but at what cost? Before I could think about an answer, I was interrupted by a medic rushing onto the mat, shoving me aside. “How did you even do this!?” the medic screamed at me, “No legal wrestling move should be able to hurt someone as bad as this. What could you possibly have done?”

“I don’t know! I think it’s called the reverse-pretzel. It’s a more advanced version of it, not many people know about it. I didn’t know it could inflict this much damage!”

I pleaded. I truly didn’t know how much damage that one move would do but it was the only move I knew that would end the match in a win. I had been down 6 points and there were only 30 seconds left in the match. I could only have pinned him using the reverse-pretzel.  Before I could say anything else, my coach ran up to me and clasped my shoulders. “You did it!” he yelled over all of the commotion. Then suddenly a middle-aged woman started screaming in my direction:

“How could you do this to my baby?!?” her voice pierced through the crowd. I just shrugged and continued to celebrate with my coach. That’s when she ran over to me and started screaming in my face. “How dare you celebrate after what you have done to my baby!? Do you even see what you have done?” She had tears streaming down her face. Before she could get another word in, one of the medics yelled at her to shut up, as he needed concentration. I was relieved, I didn’t want to reverse-pretzel two people within 5 minutes! But, before I could relax, the opponent’s coach saw what the medic said to the opponent’s mom and went over to the medic.

“Hey! Don’t tell her to shut up! She is just trying to protect her son!” The medic turned around, looked directly into his eyes and yelled, “You are currently endangering the life of this child. As a coach, you should know what you are doing. I’m a certified medic and it seems to me like you don’t want this child to survive.”

“No, that’s not my intention, that is the kid’s mother, just be more respectful,” the coach said, realizing everyone had gone quiet and was listening to what was happening.

“If it isn’t…” the medic started to raise his voice even more, slowly towering over the coach. “Then be a coach, comfort her, and get out of my face! I have a kid to save.” The coach walked over to the crying mother. 

“This is all your fault!” the mother cried out, pointing at me. This time I snapped. I started walking over to her.

“Your son being absolutely and utterly destroyed by me is not my fault. I trained hard for this, obviously more than your son, looking at the results,” I said, directly into her face.

“How dare you! I bet Anthony worked twice as hard as you did. You just used an illegal move!”

“Okay, that’s enough.” The referee intervened.

Everything else went by in a flash. Anthony Paine was taken out of the gym on a stretcher and I was named state champion. It was great but, at the same time, it wasn’t.

***

At Penn, 6 months later, I was getting ready for the new wrestling season, majoring in Business with a full wrestling scholarship. Training was difficult, the people on the team were all extremely good, and they all had a passion and were hardworking. I mean, they wouldn’t be on the team if they weren’t. During practice, we would all push each other to further heights. School was hard, and trying to balance both studying and wrestling was difficult to get used to, but I think I was getting it down. College wasn’t what I thought it to be; I thought college was going to be easy, fun, chill, but it wasn’t anything like that. Everything was on such a tight schedule, so that I, most days, barely got any sleep before starting the next day all over again. Even with this, wrestling taught me how to overcome difficulties and how to adapt to tough situations.

It was the match that decided whether I was going to get into the NCAA tournament. I was up against another freshman at 170 pounds. I was the higher seed going into the match, but I knew I couldn’t let my guard down. It was a quick match, and within the first period, I pinned him using a half-nelson. And that was it: I was in the real tournament, that is where the real journey begins. As a freshman, I had made it to the NCAA tournament – the highest level of college wrestling. Other than the Olympics, there is no other tournament more important than this.

After briefly celebrating my swift victory, the coaches and I went back to training the next day. No days off. The NCAA tournament is the most competitive college annual wrestling tournament and a huge deal. If you won gold, you would be remembered in your school, especially if you were the first to snag it, and Penn State hadn’t had a gold winner in awhile.

Recently, a new policy change in the NCAA ruled that not only were student-athletes not allowed to be paid, but if they didn’t perform, they could lose their scholarship if they had one, and/or be kicked off the team. When I first heard this, I thought the person telling me was joking, but he wasn’t. There was a chance that, if I didn’t perform, I could lose my full ride. This was devastating, and my stress level increased dramatically. I tried to focus on training but that faint voice in the back of my head slowly got louder: What if you mess up? What if you don’t perform? You will lose everything.

I had the most intense practices; we were training for two extra hours a day with “live situations”. Live situation is when you wrestle like it’s a real match. It is a completely different mode of preparation – much more demanding than mere drilling. Apart from wrestling, I also had many in-school tests, and even with my self-proclaimed work ethic, this was too much.

With one week until the NCAA tournament, the pressure doubled. Struggling to finish all my class obligations so I could could fully focus on wrestling, every day I would wake up at 6 am, get a morning lift on, and run. Go to class, eat, wrestle for five hours, and repeat.

“Come on, we are almost late,” my coach said, getting out of the van. In actuality we still had an hour before weigh-ins even started; my coach just liked to arrive early to get a good warm-up, and if anyone needed to cut, they could cut. Weight is very important for sports like wrestling and MMA, and if a wrestler was heavier than their weight class threshold, they would have to cut weight, and on the day of a match, this would mean losing water weight by dressing in layers, working a stationary bike, or running. This way, the body gets rid of extra water, hence the name, water-weight. I was right at threshold, so I only had to warm up. Warm-ups I usually enjoyed. This day though, I had long been dreading. It felt like life or death. I needed to keep that scholarship. I remembered a year ago, around this time, I had been warming up for the state finals, and that I’d won with the reverse-pretzel. Then, it was still somewhat enjoyable. But now, there was so much more on the line. I tried doing my usual warm-up routine: jogging, stance and motion (assuming the wrestling stance and then moving as if the opponent was actually there), et cetera, but I couldn’t get the feel. I couldn’t concentrate with that screaming voice in my head.

Going into the tournament, I was the first seed, which means that I ranked at or near the best season’s record. The higher seeds wrestle against the lower seeds in the beginning to make the semis and finals more interesting. The first person I wrestled was the 16th seed, the worst wrestler of my weight class.  

“Alright, shake hands. Wrestle!” The referee blew his whistle. Right off the bat I could feel the difference between this opponent and everyone else I’d wrestled before. Even though that wrestler was technically the worst wrestler in the tournament, he was one tough NCAA 16^th seed.

Ten seconds left in the first period, I faked and then shot a high crotch, my favorite leg takedown. I drove my legs into the ground as hard as I could, and with two seconds left in the period, I scored a takedown. 

In this NCAA match, the opponent won the coin flip and wanted bottom.

The opponent got down – I set up and looked at the ref. As the whistle sounded, both of us exploded. I looked for the arm chop and he looked for the switch. The moment I felt him trying to switch, I started driving my feet into the ground stopping his move. After that, I could go to work, looking for any little imperfection in his base and exploiting it. It was only the first few seconds so I had a lot of time. I tried probably 15 different moves, but it is very hard to pin someone in the college level: I was learning that, in NCAA wrestling, everyone is well trained and well conditioned, so any move you do, more or less, your opponent will know how to counter. Finally, with 30 seconds left, I threw in a half nelson, I threw it as deep as I could and dug my feet onto the mat, exposing his back to the mat. I stayed there for a bit, letting the referee count back-points, then slowly, I put him away. I heard the whistle sound and the referee hit the mat. When my hand was raised, I celebrated only for a moment because I knew that this was only the beginning of my journey at the tournament.

In my weight class, there was only one person that I knew I would definitely have trouble with. He was the second seed; I’d wrestled him during the season and we’d gone pretty even. My record against him was 3-2, 3 wins and 2 losses – they were all close matches. I was probably going to go against him in the finals.

I breezed through the next two matches; they were higher seeds than the first guy, but I believe the nerves got to them. They made a lot of mistakes and eventually paid for them. I wrestled 3 matches that day, making the finals. The finals were the next day, so that the organizers could reformat the wrestling mats, and the finalists could recover. 

As we drove back to the hotel we were staying in, I asked my coach, “So I’m against that guy at the final. What if I do the same move as before?”

“I don’t think you should risk it, it could potentially screw you over. Maybe for a last ditch effort, but still, then you should go to your go tos, the ones you’ve trained to do.”

That got me thinking. I knew that I could beat Paine, but how would I do it? Last time, I barely pinned him, but I don’t think he will let me do that again. “This time it will be much better,” I thought.

Once we got back to the hotel, I showered and ate dinner: unseasoned chicken with bland rice, my favorite! I was so sick and tired of eating tasteless food. I craved flavorful food like steak, chicken wings, even a quarter-pounder.  

As I ate, I slowly zoned out. I probably seemed pretty odd, chewing slowly and staring at nothing. I was thinking about what would happen if I won or lost. What things I would do to celebrate the win, or how I would face my parents after losing my wrestling scholarship. Suddenly, I had an urge to go outside. Abruptly, I stood up and threw away my half-eaten dinner and went outside.

Walking down the street without a destination was refreshing. Recently, I had been so caught up in school and wrestling that I hadn’t been able to appreciate the outside world. After walking for about ten minutes, I started to really think. Some people hype themselves up the day before the match but I try to relax and let my mind wander. Usually my thoughts would be pretty optimistic. I hadn’t taken any real losses yet, and I knew I wasn’t going to take any, anytime soon. But for this one match, I felt uneasy. I had never been this stressed before. This was like going into the finals at State, but at a whole different level. Suddenly my stomach started to twist. The more I thought about the match, the worse it got. The pain got so intense that I started throwing up! This was too much – I had to do something.

Ring! Ring! Ring! I called my mom. “Mom, I can’t do this anymore, this is crazy, I’m going crazy.”

“Okay slow down, Honey. What’s going on? Aren’t you in the finals tomorrow?”

“Yes, but that’s the problem. I don’t think I can compete. I’m scared.”

“Scared of what? This is your first year in UPenn, you have already gotten so far this year. Focus on the things you can control, just wrestle as hard as you can. If you don’t win, you still have 3 more years to improve.”

After saying thanks to my mom, I continued walking; I thought about the situation. 

“Is it really that serious?”

“Of course it is, your future rides on this,” the voice said.

“No, that can’t be right, why would they remove my scholarship just off not winning a match?”

“Didn’t you read the policy changes yourself? You could lose everything. You don’t have enough money for college: how are you going to get that degree?”

“Stop it,” I said trying to drown it out.

“You know you can’t avoid me, I am a part of you.”

“STOP IT!!!” I screamed. A local jogger stopped in front of me and asked what was wrong, but before he finished, I started sprinting in the direction he had come from.

After ten minutes, I stopped at a public park and sat on a bench, out of breath. 

Everything seemed so perfect. The sunset was beautiful, so many shades of red, yellow, and orange blended together in the most perfect way. The trees were blooming in that color too, and it was like a scene taken straight out of a movie.

After I caught my breath, I started walking back towards the hotel, just looking around.

***

“On the green side, from Michigan State, Anthony Paine!!!” the announcer yelled. The crowd roared in support as he jogged on to the mat. “And on the red side, from Penn State,  Elliot Robbins!!!” the announcer yelled as I jogged into the gym, and did a lap around the mat. The crowd booed so loud that I could feel the vibrations in my chest. This was his home turf, and he had the advantage.

We lined up on the circle and the referee told us to shake hands. “Wrestle!” The referee blew his whistle. Right off the bat, he felt like a different person: he had become much stronger and faster, but so had I. For the first few seconds, nothing really happened as we were starting to feel each other out, and then suddenly, he shot a single-leg. A single-leg is a move where the attacker attacks one leg and uses it to manipulate the defender’s hips; it is a fundamental move which is effective even in college. There are many ways to defend a single, and I chose to scramble, because I’m most comfortable there. A scramble is not an actual move, it’s a position where both people can win. It is a little strange compared to the other parts of wrestling so you need experience to perform well in that area.

After almost the entire first period going by, neither of us had scored a point. Then, I snapped his head down hard, and when his head came back up, I shot for his legs. Wham! His head smashed into mine as he down-blocked, basically blocking my shot with his head and hands. I fell to the mat holding my head, he circled around and got two points as the first period closed, with the crowd roaring.

Entering the second period, I had priority of choice, but with such a long time to go, my coach told me to defer, or give the opponent the choice this period. Anthony chose bottom, a safe choice, but I knew my top was really good so I was confident. Immediately after the referee blew his whistle, he went for a stand-up, a standard escape where you basically stand up. I brought him back down with a massive, loud, mat-return. A mat-return is a move where the opponent is standing and you lift them and put them back on the mat. I could feel the tension from the crowd through that one move. It is very flashy but isn’t as effective as it may seem. The crowd obviously didn’t know that, and their reaction made me smile a little. I went directly into a leg ride. A leg ride is when you put one or two legs onto their thigh area; this gives the user a lot of control but is sometimes risky. “Use that move!” I heard my coach scream. Once I heard that, I saw the opening and immediately went into full auto-pilot. 

What I tried was the flying-squirrel. It is where I release the opponent for a split second, then almost flip over them, ideally pinning them, but before I realized what had happened, I was on my back, pinned. 

“What did you just do?!? Our chances of staying at UPenn are now GONE!” that voice said.

“What happened?”

“You tried that move and utterly failed. How did you fail that bad?”

“I don’t know, -”

My thought was cut off by the ref raising Anthony’s hand. 

“You almost got me,” he said when shaking my hand. I couldn’t believe what had happened; I walked off the mat to my coach and waited for the bad news. 

My coach, probably seeing how down I looked, said, “It’s okay, there’s always next year.”

“Next year?!” I doubted.

“Yeah, of course.”

“What about the new NCAA policy?”

“What new policy?”

“The policy having to do with letting go under-performing athletes?”

“Oh that’s bulls**t! Why would we do that to a member of our family? Who told you about that?”

I honestly couldn’t recall who I’d heard it from. It took me a second to realize that whoever had told me that had been wrong. Dead wrong.

“How stupid am I?” I scoffed at myself. 

“Just focus on the process and don’t worry about the results. Only focus on the things you can control. Did you wrestle with 100% of your mind, body, and soul?” my coach asked.

“Yes,” I replied.

“Then let’s learn from this match and get better so we can beat them next time. Remember, focus on the process, and the results will come accordingly.”

During my time at Penn State Wrestling, I learned a lot, went through hardships, and got stronger through those hardships. What rang through my ears that day, and for a long time was: “No matter the struggle, family is always #1”.