An indelible memory

Everyone has indelible memories.  For me, many of them involve sports.  Whether I was in attendance or participating in a competition, watching something on television or listening to it on the radio, there are several moments of greatness that I can recall exactly where I was and what I was feeling at the time.

Today, I experienced a new kind of indelible memory.

In the smallish community of River Falls, my high school wrestling accomplishments precede a lot of what I do even though I graduated almost twenty years ago.  After taking the reigns as head coach of the program two years ago, those old accomplishments seemed new again to several people.  There was "buzz" in town for wrestling.  It's fun walking down memory and, indeed, I'm proud of what I did in the RFHS singlet during those four years.

But, truth be told, those accomplishments also haunt me.  Not in the way most would think.  I'm confident in who I am and I can handle expectations.  I'm concerned about those expectations being passed on to my children.  Everyday someone asks me or my boys if they're already wrestling, if I'm teaching them moves, if they're going to be state champions...it's not an exaggeration.  They're 2, 4 and 6 years old.

They've been around wrestling a lot in their short lives and I've made it a point to not talk to them about my glory days.  Those four years had a significant impact on who I am today, however, being Daddy is much more than that.  Additionally, they've been around a lot of wrestlers with far greater accomplishments than mine, so I'm trusting that they'll have a healthy perspective when they start to figure things out.  That doesn't change that some people aren't afforded that breadth of understanding, though.  How will my boys handle all of it?

Well, today I found it.

My wrestling career continued beyond high school and I fell short of several goals.  I'd be lying if I said those losses and setbacks still didn't sting.  Many of them are the fuel for my coaching endeavors because my competitive career still lacks some closure.  I know many others who feel the same way, too.  Over time, small things have provided an illusion of such and some solace, but none more than a simple text message that my wife forwarded to me.  It was from one of our former babysitters who periodically spends time in Isaiah's kindergarten class.

Here's the text message:

Hi Liz, I just wanted to let you know what a great kid Isaiah is.  I sat at his table at school for a bit this morning, and Cullen, out of the blue, say, "Mrs. Leitch, can you believe that Kevin Black is Isaiah's dad?!"  Before I could say anything, Austin chimed in, "who is Kevin Black?" Cullen replied, "Only the best wrestler ever!" Austin being Austin said, "I really don't think he's the best wrestler ever," and Cullen said that Kevin was the best high school wrestler ever.  Austin, again doubting Cullen, so I told him that Kevin won every single match in high school for four years.  The whole time, Isaiah was listening, then said, "Well, my dad DID lose sometimes, just not his high school matches.  He just worked really, really hard and tried his best all the time."  Then he got back to working on his journal.  He didn't brag or argue, just told it like it is.  Hopefully the other boys at the table picked up on the lesson Isaiah taught them.

Try being Dad and having dry eyes after that.  If the only things my kids know about their dad's sports career, or any other career, is that he worked really, really hard and tried his best all the time, then all of it was worth-the-effort.

Don't misunderstand me, I'm very competitive and I was, and still am, driven to succeed, to win.  I hope my boys have a passion for excellence AND hate losing more than they love winning.  Of course, I want most for them to do their best and be their best, however, I also want them to be competitive because that matters, too.

But it's freeing for me to hear Isaiah's perspective on this subject, to know how he measures success and to see what he's learning from my wrestling pursuits.  How you do things matters more than what you accomplish.

During an interview as a senior in high school, I said this: "This isn't just about wrestling, this is about life, in general.  I'll take this for another 60 years into everything I do.  That's what all of the hard work is about."

After today, that comment in February of 1998 seemed prophetic.  I knew that what I was doing then was bigger than me now.  It was about more than my life.  I know that God created me to use my life in wrestling to make an impact in the lives of others for His glory.  It's almost like in that 15-minutes of fame I was talking about Isaiah.

Now, that is an indelible memory.