Maybe I waited too long to write this. I think I should have written it at the beginning, when my son was first asked to wrestle on the varsity team.

A freshman who missed the last season because of a broken leg, he was on cloud nine over the very idea. His face glowed and his mouth could not hold in his grin. The pride he felt was evident in his eyes. It was evident in his entire demeanor.

The night before the match, he was a wreck. We all were. Together, we
picked at our dinners and wrung our hands and tried to calm the butterflies in our stomachs.

"I'm so scared," he said, over and over.

And my husband reassured him, "You wouldn't be normal if you weren't."

His was the very first match, and it was over quickly. But the after
effects weren't.

That evening was the longest. We sat up late that night, no one
mentioning homework or bedtimes or chores. In vain, we tried to console our wrestler. His brother, a senior at a rival school and also a wrestler, was the wittiest and most enjoyable he's been in years, in hopes of cheering up his little brother.

"I'm a senior, and I've never wrestled a varsity match," he said, to no avail.

My son took his loss hard, worrying he'd let his coach down.

"He gave me a chance and I blew it," he said.

And once again, I am thrown headfirst into what has got to be the
toughest, most intense sport known to man. Sure, there's nothing like a win, feeling like King Kong or Superman after holding a writhing body to a sweaty plastic mat until the ref smacks it hard and blows the whistle. But there is nothing like a loss. Over and over, faces crumble as the opponent's hand is raised. It is barbaric, seeing a child struggling to get out of a pin, and the crowd on their feet, bellowing and screaming for the pin. And then once the frail looking shoulder bones touch the mat, the crowd erupts gleefully, while inevitably one boy stands in defeat. That boy stands with both arms down at his side and can only hear the deafening roar of victory at his
embarrassing defeat.

This sport is based on public humiliation, on utter defeat. Manhood is involved and pride is involved. And no matter which team wins, this is no team sport.

Now, if I had written this before his match, it would have been about how much it meant to my son to have been chosen to wrestle on the varsity team. I would have told about what it meant to his self esteem, about how he will always treasure the support and encouragement he got from friends and family during those shining 24 hours.

Did his loss change my feelings?

His loss wore me out. But he has wrestled half a dozen JV matches since, and won all but one of them.

I know he replays his one varsity match in his head, over and over. But
his arm has been raised since.

And if he can get back out there and risk losing in front of the
blood-thirsty masses, I know I can sit amongst them.

(Ferris Robinson can be reached at Ferrisrobinson@cs.com

She is the author of The Gorgeless Gourmet's Cookbook, which is filled with recipes that are easy to prepare, very low in fat and absolutely delicious.

She lives with her husband and three sons on Lookout Mountain.

To order the cookbook send check or money order to Peach Publishing, Box 366, Lookout Mtn., TN 37350. (Gorgeless Gourmet's Cookbook - $16.95)