“Kid, you should have seen it.”
The voice of his old coach rang through his ears as he turned around. The old coach saw the high school change, the scope of the team change over the years. He saw coaches in this High School prepare young men for the collegiate ranks.
Now he was looking at the one student that never gave up, no matter how hard he was ridden.
“They did well. Couple of the kids could go all the way to the State’s this year, and do well. But they lacked something that you had on those mats. The will never to give up.”
Matthew continued to look around the gym.
“I went professional.”
“I know, your parents told me. You could make good money doing that. Though I thought that you might have been good enough to go for World Championships, maybe even the Olympics.”
Matthew took his shoes off and walked out onto the mat.
“I wasn’t that good. I would never have made it past the trials.”
“That’s not the Matt Elias that I know.”
Matt Elias, there’s a name that he hadn’t heard in a while. All through college, he used his middle name as his last name. Matt Randall. Had a better sound to it.
“The Matt Elias you knew doesn’t exist anymore. Instead, I’m here. The two knee surgeries that I had made me rethink trying for the Olympics. I was afraid that it wouldn’t hold up.”
“Yet you join the world of professional wrestling. I don’t understand that? Do you want to die early? Because that’s what will happen if you step foot into THAT ring.”
Matthew continues to walk on the mat and starts to drop to a knee, swinging his body around as if he was going for a single leg takedown. He’s imagining his last win on these mats. How it was a great feeling for him back then.
“I’ve never been into drugs or alcohol. So I’m not worried about that.”
The old coach walked onto the mat and stood up to the shorter and more fleet-footed wrestler.
“And when your body starts to break down from the years of abuse and excess, what are you going to do? Ignore the pain? No, you’re going to look for the first doctor that can prescribe oxycodone to you. That’s how it starts.”
Matthew looks up at the man that he only ever referred to as Coach.
“Listen, I’m not your son. He made mistakes, and I’m sorry that you’re hurt by them. But I’ve learned from them. I’ve learned from you everything that I ever needed to learn about being a man. That includes trusting in myself.
“Why can’t you trust me to make that right decision?”
The coach gets off the mat.
“Matt, I worry about you. Ever since the first day you walked into my garage, you were undersized. You never grew into the frame that your mother and father wanted you to grow into. I’ve never stopped worrying about you.”
“Coach, I remember what you told me after that first day. That it wasn’t the size of the dog in the fight, but the size of the fight in the dog. Yeah, I’m going to be getting into a wrestling ring with a bunch of guys that are bigger than me. Yeah, I’m going to be at a disadvantage. But I’m going to be OK.”
The coach walks around the mat as Matthew takes his hoodie off, revealing a FUSE T-Shirt underneath.
“I’ll tell you what, you pin my shoulders to the mat, I’ll go to Smitty Duluth tomorrow and tell him that I quit.”
“Kid, you really don’t want to do this.”
“You’ve always told me to do what’s in my heart, well my heart is telling me that I have to do this. You’ve always beaten me, and I figure, if I can beat you, that you’ll have to give me your blessing.”
The old coach stopped and looked right at Matthew. He didn’t know what to say about that. Then he proceeded to take off his jacket and then unbuttoned his shirt.
“Kid, I don’t want you destroying your dream by making this promise.”
“I have to do this.”
The coach removed his shirt, his pale skin and white chest hairs were almost glowing in the little bit of light that was in the gym. He removed his shoes and set them aside. The coach walked back onto the mat and looked to get into position.
It didn’t take long, but Matthew had pinned his old coaches shoulders to the mat. A decisive victory. But Matthew didn’t enjoy it.
“Why?”
The coach picked up his shirt and put it back on.
“Why?”
Matthew had a perplexed look to his face as his coach quietly buttoned up his shirt. He looked up at the scoreboard, empty, almost as if he was imagining the score from a wrestling match to appear in the lights.
“Because, I can’t take away what isn’t mine to take away. You want this bad enough, you might as well go for it. You’re right, you aren’t my son. I hope that you did learn from his mistakes. Because I don’t want to see you buried as well.”
“Coach.”
“You don’t have to call me that anymore. You never did.”
“Thank you, Uncle.”