High school and college wrestlers have told me it’s tough to describe their yearly cycle of training and preparing, let alone describe what it’s like to get on the mat.
That would make it nearly impossible for a wrestler to describe what it’s like to get on the mat for a state-championship match. Last week’s Iowa state wrestling tournament reminded me there are young men, and a few young ladies, who put themselves to a unique kind of test.
I’ve met many who can’t understand why young people, who are in relatively good health, would subject themselves to the workout, diet and work-ethic regimen needed to compete on wrestling mats — and that’s before we get to talking about the singlets and the nature of the sport itself. I salute the brave individuals who get on the mat, taking on opponents of all types.
There seem to be more Iowans who understand why wrestlers put themselves through the wringer, but most Americans don’t seem to get the sport. Many cannot see why these young people would endure such tough circumstances, just to see their hands raised at the end of a match.
During my time as a sports reporter, I tried to see things from a wrestler’s point of view. I tried to help readers understand the pride, the emotions and the conviction of a wrestler, and the way defeat is not an acceptable outcome.
In one of the places where I covered high school wrestling, I maintained that state’s largest media coaches poll for six years, helping it grow into a true representation of urban and rural schools of all sizes. On any Saturday in December, January or February, I tried to make sure I was on the edge of a mat, watching and listening.
There might not be a way to really explain the sport to someone who has never wrestled — myself included. But I still tried to show everyone the mental and physical trials of the sport, or the blood, sweat and tears shed in weight rooms, running tracks, flights of stairs and in hundreds of poorly ventilated gyms through the years.
There are extremely high standards for wrestlers. Not only are there the physical and psychological torture tests in training and competition, with constant improvement expected, but wrestlers are expected to be upstanding citizens and examples as human beings.
Wrestlers, boxers, mixed martial artists and, in some cases, football players, are asked to pull of an impossible combination: Be a prehistoric beast during competition, using heart and pure aggression to be a top dog, and then shower and act polite and positive in a society that values use of the brain much more than the heart.
Fortunately, wrestlers use their brains as a part of their sport a great deal — all while pushing the natural physical limits for six minutes or more. It’s not surprising to me that some cannot manage one half or the other to this difficult balance, and impressive that many can do it. I’m in awe of those who can maintain grades and citizenship while pushing their bodies to sometimes unnatural extremes, staying focused on wrestling goals all winter while enduring the ever-increasing roller-coaster ride of being a teenager.
Todd Schuster, principal of Newton’s Woodrow Wilson Elementary School, not only placed sixth at 98 pounds in one Iowa state high-school tournament, but competed at that same weight the following year, improving to third at state.
I have always been impressed with any wrestler who can excel at the same weight in more than one season — especially at the lighter weights. Schuster’s alma mater, Sibley-Ocheyedan, has only had one state champion in its history, and Tristan Clark was one win away from become the Prairie City-Monroe’s first state champ.
I hope the young men hang on to the valuable lessons from their wrestling brotherhoods throughout their lives.
Contact Jason W. Brooks at 641-792-3121 ext. 6532 or jbrooks@newtondailynews.com