Looking back, joining the wrestling team may have been the best choice I could have made. Seeing my progression from the new, unproven talent to a force on the varsity team inspires me to overcome any obstacles that try to get in my way to this day, whether pertaining to school, life, or sports. But none of that happened without pain and effort. It required both physical and mental endurance as great as that of Hercules’ strength.

To begin, when I entered 6th grade, I had no desire to wrestle. The only reason I joined was because I felt I needed to follow in my brother’s footsteps, so I wouldn’t be overshadowed by his accomplishments. As I became accustomed to the differences between elementary and middle school, the beginning of wrestling season rolled around. At this point, my brother, the three-year varsity starter, had graduated and I came in as a the fresh-faced recruit looking to prove myself as a formidable talent that could help the team. But I knew I wasn’t one. In all honesty, I had no clue what I was doing; I didn’t even know the basics of basics. I walked in blind as a bat, just trying to get through each practice without making a fool of myself. Luckily, I had “recruited” my friend Frankie to join with me. Knowing very few people in the program, he and I stuck together and partnered up for drills at practice. This, however, led to an embarrassing confrontation with our coach, calling us out in front of the whole team for partnering up because of the sizeable weight disparity, acquainting us with the first trials we would face throughout the long, arduous journey.

After weeks of grueling training, it finally came time for varsity wrestle-offs. During wrestle-offs the coaches would choose two people from the same weight class to wrestle against each other, the winner usually being awarded the varsity spot. Being in a weight-class of his own, Frankie immediately got a varsity spot, same as my brother. I, on the other hand, was in the most populated, most competitive group. As each day passed by, I waited on an opportunity that never came. Anxiously, I ran through drills, just waiting for coach to call my name to fight for my spot, to prove myself as a competitor, but that day never arrived. I was overlooked for the spot. I knew that I would not have won my match-up either way, but the disappointment was magnified by the fact that none of the coaches thought me worthy of something as simple as a chance at varsity.

Throughout the rest of the season, I carried this as a chip on my shoulder, seeking that next opportunity, no matter how few and far between they were, to explode out of the shadows and take a spot like David taking down Goliath. Weeks slipped by, each as uneventful as the last, none providing me with the occasion I so desired. Despite the lack of respect as a contender, I enjoyed my first season. We finished off the JV run with a day full of games, one final hurrah before the varsity team began grinding for the Hubble Tournament. We played dodgeball, basketbrawl, a mix of basketball and wrestling, and a game where you and a partner would run an obstacle course while carrying a mat over your head as the rest of the team would throw dodgeballs. Even though I did not want to join at first, I realized that wrestling could be my way of making a mark on the school and add some variety to my daily life. I decided that no matter what difficulties I faced in life, I would not let it hinder me from getting better.

7th grade brought with it a flurry of new challenges. Amid the physical tasks wrestling demands, my mind was worn down by months of relentless thought. With ever-changing emotions, I struggled to focus on what was truly important. As wrestling season approached, my mind strayed. My head was stuck in the same place, turning over every eventuality, obsessing over girls, each day falling deeper into the abyss. On the bright side, over the offseason, my skills had somehow greatly increased, maybe because I had a new perspective on the sport, or maybe because I had a new unrelenting determination to prove myself. This year, I felt more confident in my abilities, like I could truly make something of myself. I was in a group with much less people this season, a sign I took in stride, not letting it get to my head because the talent within the group was the best of the whole team. Outside of the sport, I shared my sadness with my best friend at the time because she understood what I felt. Each day, the sadness fluctuated like a barometer. Some days, I felt great, a warm day in the middle of summer, and other days I felt awful, like a hurricane of emotions. However, by some grace of God, all of this left me when I stepped on the mat. I felt in control when I wrestled. I now had the skills and drive to accomplish my goals, something I felt I did not have in my life.

Now don’t get me wrong, my family life is fantastic, I have loving parents, a great relationship with my brother, and close bonds with both sides of my extended family, which makes the anguish I felt even more bizarre. All of the pain I felt truly was in my head. During my 7th grade season, I was given an opportunity to make varsity, but couldn’t cut it, however, I performed better than a gladiator in ancient Rome. After each win, my adrenaline pumped like a mighty river, but once it calmed down, I still felt lost. I just felt like I couldn’t escape it outside of wrestling. After one meet, I broke down, I had no reason to, but I did. I spoke with my parents, shared with them how I felt, and something clicked. Mentally, my head began straightening itself, I saw the bright side of most situations and finally, slowly crept out of the pit my mind resided in. I gained enough confidence to meet new people and make new friends, many of which I still have close bonds with. I felt like a butterfly breaking free of the cocoon, a kid running outside to meet his friends after the first snowfall of winter, a phoenix reborn from the ashes. By moving past my refusal to try and break free of my depressive cycle, I have not only bettered my social life, but I have also grown as a person and learned that I should not be afraid to tell myself what I need and figure out what makes me happy before it’s possible to make others happy. And to think, all it took was confiding my issues in a trusted source. What a rollercoaster 7th grade was!

As 8th grade came by, I was in a better place, mentally and physically. During school, I had a great time, playing games, making movies, learning new skills, but I continued to grind in preparation for my final wrestling season. The year went by pretty smoothly before the season started, and when wrestle-offs began, I was ready. I would not let anyone or anything get in the way of my goals this year. My weight class was relatively full this season, but I had no doubt I could beat all of them if needed. Coach put me up against the newest, yet most potent, talent in my division for my match-up. I defeated him and won my first varsity spot, the first bright moment in a season of many. However, instead of getting the spot for my weight class, I was bumped up, wrestling kids ten pounds heavier on a daily basis. At practice, I had to wrestle kids with seventy to 100 pound advantages, so this gap was not hard to get accustomed to. In preparation for my first match, I made myself too nervous, ultimately losing in the third round. But I bounced back, getting my first varsity pin against an opponent 20 pounds heavier than me, as I was bumped up yet another weight class for this match. I continued to work towards my goal, winning the majority of my matches and finishing the season with a 7-3 record. I finally felt like I belonged on the team, and I was finally proving myself to everyone. Who would’ve thought that after such a tough, sad year, I would be walking out with a confidence greater than that of Johnny Bravo. To cap off the year, I was awarded with a plaque, given to me by my the school off the recommendation of my coaches for the “best sportsmanship.”

Throughout my time in wrestling, I realized truths that have stuck with me since. Despite all the obstacles that may come to pass, wallowing in sorrow and refusing to take proactive steps leads to only more pain and anguish. Pursuing the things that inspire happiness creates great pride and washes away the stains left behind. Since middle school, I stopped pursuing my wrestling career, but I have not lost the clarity that it wrought. Recently, I was cut from the baseball team, and although I was upset, I quickly moved on. I did not allow the sorrow to consume me and stop me from achieving what I aspire to do. Not too long after being cut, I took the AP Human Geography test, an exam I easily could have failed because I was stuck in a hole of self-pity, but instead I passed with flying colors, receiving a 5 on the 2-hour test. Through my successes and tribulations with wrestling, I have learned to adapt to obstacles and fight through those that try to block me. Being able to adapt has left me in a wonderful position, the top of the totem pole. I no longer have emotional blockades that affect my emotional state, and instead I am blessed with the abilities, the weapons, to let go of my issues and forgive those that wrong me, including myself. If I was able to move past the struggles that continually tried to impede me and transform myself from an inexperienced rookie to a top-performing, award winner, there is no doubt in my mind that anyone facing similar issues can overcome their pains. How I felt after realizing the irrationality of my woes, like a prisoner released, is what anyone can feel. But for this to happen, they must be willing to work. They must be willing to work to better themselves before the rest of their lives follow suit.