Takedown
It was the moment that I have been waiting for my whole life. I have dedicated hours of training, gallons of sweat, and a multitude of broken bones to reaching this honor. The event in discussion is the Central Coast wrestling finals that was held in the spring of my senior year in high school. Ever since my freshman year, when I saw the finely chiseled muscles in action under a spotlight with close to 2,000 people watching their every move, I knew that I wanted to dedicate the next four years of my life to making it into the finals and become a CCS champion. However, doing so would prove not to be an easy task. With an area spanning north from San Francisco to the south in Gilroy, the Central Coast section encompasses close to 90 high schools with some of the toughest kids in the state of California. Freshman year, I broke 3 bones in my foot and was unable to compete. Sophomore year, I took top 16, forfeiting my last matches because of a broken nose. Junior year, after a long struggle I lost to my longtime rival whom I have never beaten, which caused me to finish in the top 8.
By the time senior year rolled around, I knew that I had to give it my all if I were to achieve my dream. For one year, five times a week, I would wake up, complete morning practices set by myself, attend school, go to team practice, come home and eat a limited diet in order to maintain my weight, sleep, and then repeat. I attended intensive camps, lifted more weights, and sacrificed a great deal of typical high school social life so that I could reach my goal. I knew that I had no more chances, and that if I was to become CCS champion, I needed to give double the effort that I gave in my previous years.
Then came the day of reckoning, where, to my dismay, I received a seeding in the tournament of 6th place, meaning that the odds were heavily stacked against me to reach the finals, let alone become champion. It was thus the time for personal confidence; I had to dig down deep and realize that no one in my weight class wanted to be champion more, or had trained as hard for this moment. With this, I gained a feeling I have never felt before: a sort of electrifying urgency that possessed my body, which gave me the feeling of super human strength. This sensation allowed me to beat the number 4 seed and number 3 seed in a domination that labeled me the “black horse” of the tournament. Now, the only thing that was standing between me and the finals was my rival that knocked me out of the tournament the previous year, and whom I have never beaten. Yet, at the time I never felt a sense of fear. In actuality, I was exultant; I knew that if I could just keep wrestling the way I was wrestling, I would come out on top. The stadium, aware of our rivalry, watched keenly as I conquered my rival at the time when it mattered most.
I made it to the finals. With the spotlight shining and the crowd buzzed with excitement, I knew that even though I was facing the number 1 seed, nothing would be able to stop me. I therefore held a dominating lead for the first and second rounds. When it came to the third, I thought to myself “Abe, you have done it. You are up by 4 points, all you need to do is hold on the lead for 2 minutes and you have achieved your dream!” So I started fake wrestling: performing movements with no aggressive goal just to eat up time. After a few minutes of this, in an extremely controversial move, the referee decided that I was illegally stalling the match, preventing my opponent from doing anything. He awarded my opponent the necessary points in order for him to win the match, and just like that, I lost the championship and my ultimate dream.
After an initial bout of incomprehensible rage, what hit me next was a series of a month long depression. I felt like a failure, experienced unfathomable regret, and sensed a great deal of sadness. After, I did what most men do, and tried to forget about it: accept what happened and move on. It has been only recently that I am starting to find out what losing in the finals has actually given me, and allowed me to grow more as an individual. I have subsequently become much more driven and focused in my life goals; actually being relentless in my pursuit of perfection. When I am given a type of project or task, I make sure that I give it 100% until the very end. However, I contain the introspective knowledge that tells me when I have done enough and that sometimes there are more important things in life than winning. In addition, I have, become a much more humble person. Even though I lost my life goal at that time, I have moved on and am still alive. Sometimes things do not mean as much as they can seem in the moment. Ultimately, this experience has been life forming and essential in characterizing who I am.
By the time senior year rolled around, I knew that I had to give it my all if I were to achieve my dream. For one year, five times a week, I would wake up, complete morning practices set by myself, attend school, go to team practice, come home and eat a limited diet in order to maintain my weight, sleep, and then repeat. I attended intensive camps, lifted more weights, and sacrificed a great deal of typical high school social life so that I could reach my goal. I knew that I had no more chances, and that if I was to become CCS champion, I needed to give double the effort that I gave in my previous years.
Then came the day of reckoning, where, to my dismay, I received a seeding in the tournament of 6th place, meaning that the odds were heavily stacked against me to reach the finals, let alone become champion. It was thus the time for personal confidence; I had to dig down deep and realize that no one in my weight class wanted to be champion more, or had trained as hard for this moment. With this, I gained a feeling I have never felt before: a sort of electrifying urgency that possessed my body, which gave me the feeling of super human strength. This sensation allowed me to beat the number 4 seed and number 3 seed in a domination that labeled me the “black horse” of the tournament. Now, the only thing that was standing between me and the finals was my rival that knocked me out of the tournament the previous year, and whom I have never beaten. Yet, at the time I never felt a sense of fear. In actuality, I was exultant; I knew that if I could just keep wrestling the way I was wrestling, I would come out on top. The stadium, aware of our rivalry, watched keenly as I conquered my rival at the time when it mattered most.
I made it to the finals. With the spotlight shining and the crowd buzzed with excitement, I knew that even though I was facing the number 1 seed, nothing would be able to stop me. I therefore held a dominating lead for the first and second rounds. When it came to the third, I thought to myself “Abe, you have done it. You are up by 4 points, all you need to do is hold on the lead for 2 minutes and you have achieved your dream!” So I started fake wrestling: performing movements with no aggressive goal just to eat up time. After a few minutes of this, in an extremely controversial move, the referee decided that I was illegally stalling the match, preventing my opponent from doing anything. He awarded my opponent the necessary points in order for him to win the match, and just like that, I lost the championship and my ultimate dream.
After an initial bout of incomprehensible rage, what hit me next was a series of a month long depression. I felt like a failure, experienced unfathomable regret, and sensed a great deal of sadness. After, I did what most men do, and tried to forget about it: accept what happened and move on. It has been only recently that I am starting to find out what losing in the finals has actually given me, and allowed me to grow more as an individual. I have subsequently become much more driven and focused in my life goals; actually being relentless in my pursuit of perfection. When I am given a type of project or task, I make sure that I give it 100% until the very end. However, I contain the introspective knowledge that tells me when I have done enough and that sometimes there are more important things in life than winning. In addition, I have, become a much more humble person. Even though I lost my life goal at that time, I have moved on and am still alive. Sometimes things do not mean as much as they can seem in the moment. Ultimately, this experience has been life forming and essential in characterizing who I am.