Let Me Count the Ways

Wrestling is a sport that only a Father can truly love. I do not love wrestling, and my oldest son will sometimes throw back in my face when I am grouchy about the sport and all it entails and he is just being his grouchy teenage self, "You hate wrestling!!" he will yell as if he has just exposed some evil ugly truth about me. I do not love the sport,true enough, but their are parts I do like and even enjoy. Like watching my little guy, Gabriel make friendly small talk with his opponent as he waits for his match to begin. He likes to humanize as well as size up his competition if he gets the chance before his bout number is up. It is heartwarming to hear the small details he gives me about his fellow competitors. Like they are truly his friends now. He loves the sport fully. The many hours spent working out on the sweaty mats with his team mates. The days on the weekends spent at tournaments, either his or his older brothers. His matches themselves, even when he loses, focusing immediately on something positive. And of course winning and even pinning his opponents.
The list is long regarding what there is not to love about the sport. Here a few: The time dedication the sport requires when two of your children wrestle, and your husband coaches and coordinates the town youth program. 40+ hours a week! Girls wrestling boys, especially in middle school and highschool(that is a post in itself), weight loss for the sport(another rant I could go on), and the crying. I always think of the movie League of their Own when Tom Hanks says their is no crying in baseball. Well, their is crying in wrestling. And, a lot of it, especially with the littler boys. Even when my boys' win, if the losing wrestler cries I can't fully enjoy their victory. The first couple matches of the season are heart wrenchingly tearful. By the end of the season you are immune to tears in small children, your empathy lost.
Enough said.