I was fresh meat, fish bait in a surprisingly small tank of sharks, and boy was I scared.

This is my story on why I quit wrestling sophomore year, so let’s take it back a bit. On October 28th, 1996, at approximately 11:00 A.M., I was born. Too far? Alright, let’s try the fall of 2011, when I, Michael, decided I was going to be a wrestler.

It was my first year of high school, and my parents told me that I had to do a sport. They didn’t care which sport, they just said that I had to be in one. I have been in house league baseball for all my life, so I figured I would try out for baseball in the spring. However, the first sport we did in Freshman P.E. was wrestling. I enjoyed it, and was fairly good at it, but I didn’t think anything of it. I happened to mention to my parents one night that we were in the wrestling unit in gym, and they thought I should try out wrestling. I thought why not, can’t hurt to try it. Practices started the next week, and I showed up. Little did I know it would be the most taxing sport I would ever be a part of in my life.

The first day of practice was interesting. I didn’t know there was a freshman wrestling room, so I was at the wrong place for the first five minutes. Then I found out that we needed special wrestling shoes to be on the mats in the room, and that we couldn’t wear our school clothes. But hey, it was just day one. Practices really started a week later, when everyone had all their gear (clothes, shoes, headgear, physical forms, etc.), when everyone knew what they were doing, and most importantly, when it was too late to quit. Then in November the actual wrestling season started. The already rough three hour long practices somehow got even more intense. I was sore every day, even the one day a week we got off. It was no longer fun, but I couldn’t give up then.

All throughout the season family members, friends, or fellow wrestlers would ask me if I planned to wrestle next year, and of course I would say yes, because I really did think I would, but when the season ended, and there were no more practices, no more sore muscles, no more bloody noses, my opinion changed. Life without wrestling was significantly different. Since I no longer had to spend 30-40 hours a week working my ass off, I had a lot of time on my hands. I had plenty of time to do my homework and study, I had even more time to hang out with friends or play games. I no longer had to spend 11 hours at school every day, and there’s only one way to explain how I felt. Phenomenal.

Because of how easy life was without wrestling being a part of it, I was dreading going back to practicing. When the time came Sophomore year, I told my parents that I didn’t want to be a wrestler any more. They told me I was out of my mind and that I had to do it this year. So, lo and behold, I showed up to the first week of practice. I never would have guessed that it could have been worse than the previous year, but it was. I was no longer in the Freshman room, but now in the normal wrestling room, where it was always 90°+. For the whole week I honestly felt like I was going to throw up at any moment. It was awful, so I never went back the next week.
I felt bad about it for many reasons, because I saw my coach every day in school, because I let my parents down, because I was no longer participating in any extracurricular activities, but to me, it was worth it. 100% worth it.