The devastation, heartache, and pain were as you may imagine, unfathomable for us all, but I worried the most about my seven-year-old baby boy Mookie.
All the on the mat success is great, but I am most grateful to wrestling for being the glue which has kept my family closer together.
We hit a few tournaments, and he begged to go to more, but I wasn’t sure how deep I wanted him to get involved with a sport that failed me.
I was in the drive-thru at a Sonic when I got a phone call from an unknown number.
I answered it.
It was my doctor.
I have learned, at times I am part of my own journey and at other times I am here to help others with their journey.
The only part I haven’t figured out as of yet, is, which is happening, when.
I love telling stories about this sport and the people involved in it. It is my passion. Everyone has a story.
I would like to tell yours.
Thirty-three years later, what we understood now, that we didn’t quite comprehend then was it was the losses and not the wins that best prepared us for life. They taught us how to handle and come back from adversity.
The journey has a way of making both the past and future inconsequential, compared to this moment.
It has been said the way you value a life lived is by the army that comes together in its time of need.
Inside of the mind of every wrestler lurks his demons.
They are the little voices of fear, doubt, and the lack of confidence.
Your mission in a match is to get these little voices inside your opponent’s head to start talking to him.
And to have your opponent believe what they are saying.