Wrestling and I are currently in our honeymoon phase. We are new and curious of each other. I observe the drills, learn the techniques, and almost wish I could give it a try myself. Wrestling is, what I strongly believe, Iowa's sport, and quite frankly, I can't seem to get enough of it.
In order to understand even to the slightest proximity of what this sport really means, you have to be a part of it. Growing up, I was into the usual Sunday night football games and NBA playoff's, always wearing some type of merchandise to support my favorite team or player. However, I've come to realize, wrestlers don't wrestle to have their last name's on my t-shirt and for me to represent or to have their game be accredited to the talent they have. It all comes down to purely one thing: dedication for the sport.
I have never seen individuals with such drive, motivation, and perseverance like wrestlers come to each and every practice equipped with. They are nearly required to show up with the mentality of a champion or be literally thrown down, beaten, and shown why they are not one. You can bet here is, in almost every match, practice, or tournament, blood, sweat, tears, and the occasional vomiting taking place but I can guarantee you will see them right back out there, immediately following defeat.
There is, and I can say this confidently, no sport like wrestling. The atmosphere at every match drowns you into the crowd and intoxicates you. There are people ranging in every age from the newborn to our great grandparents out in wrestling gear (and if you're in the Carver-Hawkeye arena, decked from head to toe in black and gold). Everyone, including the "not so into this and my boyfriend drug me here" females like myself, can't contain ourselves and help but jump up from our seats creaming, "TWOOO" when the top ranked guy or girl gets taken down. The wrestlers almost never fail to live up to their expectations that are set in place by their loyal fans and always give us a show. But have we ever considered at what cost?
Training requires being taken down over and over again, only to wake up with black eyes, bruised ribs, and every other kind of aches and pains and we can't dare forget the "tell-all" cauliflower ear that every wrestler only dreams of having at some time, so they can wear it around with pride and a message to everyone who has the nerve to step up to them. They run in blazing hot rooms with swear suits on, only to break down in tears from food and water deprivation in order to make weight and to reach the thought that chases them to sleep everynight: I want to win.
Wrestlers are slept-on in every sense. The amount of heart that an individual needs in order to look pain in the face and challenge it to a match, is unreachable in comparison to our wrestlers. In order for them to be able to be the best, they must sometimes accept defeat and that, they do. Pain pushes them, defeat drives them, and winning humbles them. Dan Gable once said, "Once you've wrestled, everything else in life is easy" and he was not lying, for there is, and never will be, absolutely no sport like wrestling.
