A life of expectations

I remember the day we wrestled Ellsworth my sophomore year very well. It was December 21, 1995. It was monumental for a variety of reason. If there was a day that I was “off” during my high school career, it was that night. If there was time that my winning streak was in jeopardy, it was then.

I wrestled freshman John Radabaugh. I was a sophomore. Later in his career, he would be a multiple-time state qualifier, even finishing second his senior year. The final score of our match that night was 14-11 and I had to secure a takedown late in the third period to seal the victory. It was a wild back-and-forth match up to that point. The biggest reason I was vulnerable was because I had a significant hip injury, but the injury itself wasn’t why it was close. I had given myself a back door and I was focused on what I couldn’t do rather than what I could do. It was the only time in my high school career that I “felt sorry” for myself. I got through it and it was ugly. I learned a lot, too. I understood that no one else was concerned about my injury during the match, especially my opponent. The only other person who “felt sorry” for me was my mom. From that point forward, I knew that my injuries limited me only as much as I let them. It was a mindset.

The defining moment happened after the dual meet and it’s what changed me the most. Nearly everyone asked me and my family what was wrong with me. Why didn’t I pin my opponent? Why was the match so close? Never mind that my opponent was very good. People expected things from me. I was 16 years old and that was a lot to handle. Somehow, though, I knew that I needed to accept that responsibility.

My freshman season, I rolled into the state tournament with very little expectations from others, but I left with many. I finished my freshman season 36-0 and immediately people began discussing the possibilities of four titles and being undefeated doing it. My coach put those thoughts to rest immediately. He helped me realize I needed to take each match one at a time. He helped me keep a healthy perspective. Others expected things of me, though, and that wasn’t a bad thing. I had put myself in the position of expectations. It became a responsibility that I accepted. I lived up to those expectations in a way that was unique to me and different than what most would understand.

The expectations of others raised my expectations for myself. I wasn’t competing for others. If you live your life trying to please others in this regard, eventually you will become the sum total of everyone else’s expectations on your life rather than discovering your uniqueness. My expectations far exceeded those of others. Others’ expectations were focused on success. I didn’t want to focus on fame or success and risk losing everything that matters. I was going for something bigger and it gave me the freedom to be who I was created to be. Fortunately, I guess, that produced positive outcomes. Being who I was created to be, and not what others expected me to be, was a responsibility that was worth living for and leveraging my wrestling career around. Years later I would see that it was about God’s glory, not Kevin’s glory.

That night I felt a heavy burden of expectations that weren’t realistic. I’m fortunate that it happened because it helped change my perspective of life and wrestling. I’m never going to live up to everyone’s expectations, so I’m not going to try. Besides, I don’t want my life to be a sum total of those expectations. None of us want that, right?

I have two sons and people already have expectations for their lives and possible wrestling career. I hope I can use December 21, 1995 to help steer them away from trying to live up to the expectations of others. I hope that Thursday night will help you, too.