Looking back, it
could have gone either way. It didn’t work out, which makes it look like fate,
or a stupid decision, or both. But at the time, I did have a few things in my
favor. I had a 8-4 lead going into the third period. I had taken Tri-County’s Brett Allison down three
times in our match. Looking back on it
now, choosing to go down in the third period was not a wise move. I’d have been
better off to have chosen neutral and gone for another takedown.
Allison and I had wrestled each other twice earlier that season. In the dual I had ripped him apart 14-4, scoring five takedowns and a set of three near fall points. It was an exciting win for me because he had been the conference runner-up and the sectional champion from the year before. He had taken third at districts, being one match shy of state qualification. It gave me a confidence I didn’t see often during my high school career.
We met again at the Oskaloosa duals where ahead 9-4, Allison threw me in a headlock and pinned me. The loss motivated me and I made up my mind that if we met again at the SICL Conference, I’d win our final battle.
When the whistle blew, Allison tried to break me down but couldn’t do so. I should’ve gone for a standup but for some crazy reason I went for a Granby roll. Allison caught me half way through it, sat on my hips, readjusted and the referee slapped the mat.
It’s a moment fifteen years later that still haunts me every bit as much now as it did then. Nothing against Allison. A kid with 100 career wins, and as said before a sectional champion. It’s not like I lost to a slouch. Yet being a two time SICL medalist would’ve meant something in my career. It’s not the toughest conference in Iowa high school wrestling, but it is a respectable one. I took a bronze medal my junior year and had it not been for being stupid out on the mat, I would’ve taken home another bronze medal my senior year.
I suppose it’s one of those many things that make me hell bent on making it as a writer. What makes me even after all the failures and disappointments I’ve endured for nearly two decades, continue to believe in myself. I wanted to be a great high school wrestler and I worked very hard to be one. A lack of athletic ability, a lack of natural talent and an assortment of other reasons I was denied that dream. I may die having never done anything of significance. I may one day be put six feet underground having never achieved anything of stature. I suppose I don’t know for an absolute fact that I’m going to succeed in life. All I do know is that I’m going to continue to try. I’m going to continue writing screenplays, novels, novellas and short stories. I want the name Stephen Stonebraker to be synonymous with writer, with story teller. I want the whole world to know of my work.
The motivation, the determination, the refusal to ever give up, had I won that match against Brett Allison that day, I don’t think it’d be as strong. I don’t even know if it’d exist.
It’s a surreal and confusing feeling. I hate knowing how my wrestling career turned out. I’m bitter and depressed about it often. Yet on the same hand I realize that one day I may make it as a writer. That one day a publisher may be interested in one of my novels. That an agent may think I have a hell of an idea that could make some money. That a television executive could think I have great ideas and want to bring me on board as part of the writing staff for his show. The day it happens, the day I make it, I already know the reflection I’ll have upon my high school wrestling career ending in disappointment. It had to. Had it not, I would’ve been content. Had I been a great high school wrestler, I would have concluded I got out of life what I wanted and I never would have sought anything greater. Writing would be nothing more to me than a hobby. I know I never would have attempted a novel. I know I never would have attempted a screenplay.
I truly believe that someday I’m going to hold in my hands an award for something I wrote. As I stare at it I’ll think of a 2004 SICL bronze medal that I failed to earn. I think at that moment the anger, bitterness and sorrow I feel will leave my body. For I’ll know that had I earned that bronze medal that day, whatever award I hold in my hands for my writing, I wouldn’t be holding.
Allison and I had wrestled each other twice earlier that season. In the dual I had ripped him apart 14-4, scoring five takedowns and a set of three near fall points. It was an exciting win for me because he had been the conference runner-up and the sectional champion from the year before. He had taken third at districts, being one match shy of state qualification. It gave me a confidence I didn’t see often during my high school career.
We met again at the Oskaloosa duals where ahead 9-4, Allison threw me in a headlock and pinned me. The loss motivated me and I made up my mind that if we met again at the SICL Conference, I’d win our final battle.
When the whistle blew, Allison tried to break me down but couldn’t do so. I should’ve gone for a standup but for some crazy reason I went for a Granby roll. Allison caught me half way through it, sat on my hips, readjusted and the referee slapped the mat.
It’s a moment fifteen years later that still haunts me every bit as much now as it did then. Nothing against Allison. A kid with 100 career wins, and as said before a sectional champion. It’s not like I lost to a slouch. Yet being a two time SICL medalist would’ve meant something in my career. It’s not the toughest conference in Iowa high school wrestling, but it is a respectable one. I took a bronze medal my junior year and had it not been for being stupid out on the mat, I would’ve taken home another bronze medal my senior year.
I suppose it’s one of those many things that make me hell bent on making it as a writer. What makes me even after all the failures and disappointments I’ve endured for nearly two decades, continue to believe in myself. I wanted to be a great high school wrestler and I worked very hard to be one. A lack of athletic ability, a lack of natural talent and an assortment of other reasons I was denied that dream. I may die having never done anything of significance. I may one day be put six feet underground having never achieved anything of stature. I suppose I don’t know for an absolute fact that I’m going to succeed in life. All I do know is that I’m going to continue to try. I’m going to continue writing screenplays, novels, novellas and short stories. I want the name Stephen Stonebraker to be synonymous with writer, with story teller. I want the whole world to know of my work.
The motivation, the determination, the refusal to ever give up, had I won that match against Brett Allison that day, I don’t think it’d be as strong. I don’t even know if it’d exist.
It’s a surreal and confusing feeling. I hate knowing how my wrestling career turned out. I’m bitter and depressed about it often. Yet on the same hand I realize that one day I may make it as a writer. That one day a publisher may be interested in one of my novels. That an agent may think I have a hell of an idea that could make some money. That a television executive could think I have great ideas and want to bring me on board as part of the writing staff for his show. The day it happens, the day I make it, I already know the reflection I’ll have upon my high school wrestling career ending in disappointment. It had to. Had it not, I would’ve been content. Had I been a great high school wrestler, I would have concluded I got out of life what I wanted and I never would have sought anything greater. Writing would be nothing more to me than a hobby. I know I never would have attempted a novel. I know I never would have attempted a screenplay.
I truly believe that someday I’m going to hold in my hands an award for something I wrote. As I stare at it I’ll think of a 2004 SICL bronze medal that I failed to earn. I think at that moment the anger, bitterness and sorrow I feel will leave my body. For I’ll know that had I earned that bronze medal that day, whatever award I hold in my hands for my writing, I wouldn’t be holding.
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