The School of Wrestling

05/27/2026

What is your definition of success?

For a lot of people in the sport, success gets measured pretty simply. Wins. Losses. State medals. National rankings. College level. Scholarship opportunities. How far did you go?

And I get it. Those things matter. Wrestling is a competitive sport. The scoreboard is real. The brackets are real. The results are real.

But if that is the only way we define success, I think we miss a major part of what the sport is supposed to give us.

Success in wrestling has to be bigger than where your name ended up on a bracket. It has to include what the sport built in you. Did you learn how to handle hard things? Did you become more disciplined? Did you learn how to lose without falling apart? Did you learn how to win without becoming arrogant? Did you build relationships that still matter years later? Did the sport help shape the kind of adult you became?

Those things are harder to measure, but they might matter more in the long run.

This does not mean we lower standards. It does not mean winning does not matter. It means we bring more intention to the journey.

Because how you define success will shape what you chase, how you handle failure, how you treat people, and what you ultimately take from the sport.

05/25/2026

Is wrestling losing its specialness?

That is a question I have been thinking about more and more.

For a long time, you would hear people who grew up wrestling say the same thing: “Wrestling is the greatest sport for young people.”

And I still believe there is truth in that.

But I also wonder if the version of wrestling many of us fell in love with is slowly changing.

When I was growing up, no one really cared about wrestling. At least not in the way people care now. There was no constant posting. No highlight clips every weekend. No rankings shared across the internet. No parents broadcasting every win, every bracket, every medal, every accomplishment.

And honestly, that was part of what made it special.

You could win a tournament, go home, eat dinner with your family, and that was it. Your parents were proud. Your coaches knew. Your teammates knew. But the rest of the world moved on like nothing happened.

That sounds small, but looking back, it was powerful.

The work had to mean something to you.

You had to choose the early mornings, the hard practices, the weight cuts, the losses, the frustration, and the lonely parts of the sport because something inside you wanted to keep going. Not because there was a scholarship waiting. Not because of NIL. Not because hundreds of people were going to like a post.

You did it because the process mattered.

That is what I worry we are losing.

Wrestling is becoming more visible, which is not all bad. The sport deserves attention. Athletes deserve recognition. Opportunities matter.

But with that attention comes some of the same problems we see everywhere else.

Parents chasing results instead of development. Families spending money they do not really have. Kids being pushed into pressure they are not ready for. Homes becoming centered around wrestling success instead of family health. Social media turning youth sports into a public scoreboard for adults.

And when parents do not understand the deeper value of wrestling, they often make it about the most superficial parts.

Wins. Rankings. Medals. Attention. Status.

But wrestling was never supposed to be special because everyone saw you do it.

It was special because of what it built in you when nobody was watching.

Discipline. Humility. Resilience. Self-awareness. The ability to suffer, fail, adjust, and keep showing up.

I still believe in the wrestling journey. I still believe this sport can shape a young person in a way very few things can.

But only if we protect what actually makes it valuable.

Because if the pursuit of wrestling success damages the kid, the family, the home, or the love for the sport itself, then we have to ask a hard question.

Is it still worth it?

Maybe wrestling is not losing its specialness.

Maybe we are just forgetting where the specialness actually comes from.

Curious what others think. Has wrestling changed for the better, or are we losing something important along the way?

05/20/2026

05/19/2026

A lot of people in wrestling say they love the sport.

But sometimes I wonder if what they really love is being praised for being good at it.

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. once gave a speech called “The Drum Major Instinct.” He talked about the human desire to be first, to be seen, to be noticed, to be praised.

That instinct is not limited to politics or religion or public life. It is alive and well in wrestling.

You see it in athletes who only feel valuable when they are winning. You see it in parents who chase rankings, medals, and recognition more than growth. You see it in coaches who need the spotlight as much as the kids do. And honestly, you see it in all of us at times if we are willing to look close enough.

Wrestling gives people attention. It gives people identity. It gives people a way to feel important.

That is not all bad. Recognition can be earned. Success should be celebrated. Hard work deserves respect.

But when praise becomes the whole point, we start losing the real value of the sport.

Wrestling is not just a vehicle for trophies, rankings, college opportunities, or social media posts. At its best, wrestling is a martial art. It teaches discipline, toughness, humility, self-control, awareness, sacrifice, and respect. It teaches people how to struggle without quitting. It teaches people how to lose, adjust, and come back.

Those lessons still matter when the matches are over.

That is why it is always hard to see people leave the sport entirely once they are no longer able to compete at a high level. Or to see former athletes lose the habits that once made them healthy and disciplined because the only reason they trained was to win an award.

If the only thing wrestling ever gave us was applause, then maybe we missed the deeper lesson.

The sport should make us better people, not just more decorated people.

Maybe we need to rethink what we are really chasing.

Are we teaching young wrestlers to love the process, the discipline, and the art itself? Or are we teaching them to love being noticed?

Curious what others think. Is wrestling doing enough to teach intrinsic value, or are we becoming too addicted to attention?

05/11/2026

Doug Schwab brings up a great point about wrestling competitions. Wrestling is so emotional that often spectators get overly excitable and can project as if they want to fight... "what are we doing"- DS

🎥

05/09/2026

Folkstyle is 👑

🎥: burnfactorypodcast

05/07/2026

Most people think the only game being played in wrestling is the one between the two athletes on the mat.

One wrestler attacks. The other reacts. One scores. One defends. One wins. One loses.

That is the obvious game.

But anyone who has spent enough time around the sport knows there are other games being played too.

There is the game between coaches.

Who has the better club? Who developed the tougher kids? Who knows more technique? Who has more state qualifiers, placers, champions, rankings, followers, and recognition?

On the surface, many coaches say they are doing it to give back. And some truly are. There are great coaches in wrestling who pour into kids, build confidence, teach discipline, and create lifelong impact.

But there is another type of coach. The coach who never really stopped competing.

They stopped putting on the singlet, but they never let go of the need to win. Now the competition is through their athletes, their program, their reputation, their social media presence, and the way others perceive them.

That is where ego starts to take over.

A win validates the coach. A loss embarrasses the coach. Another club’s success feels like a threat. A parent leaving feels like betrayal. Another coach getting attention feels personal.

At that point, the coach is no longer simply leading athletes. They are playing their own game through the athletes.

And this is where a lot of negativity enters the sport.

You see it in the gossip. You see it in the way people talk about other clubs. You see it when coaches spend more energy tearing others down than improving their own environment.

That is not leadership. That is insecurity dressed up as competitiveness.

The problem is not competition. Wrestling needs competitive coaches. It needs passionate people who care deeply, study the sport, build strong rooms, and push athletes to become better.

But wrestling also needs adults who can check themselves.

Because coaching is not supposed to be another way to stay the center of attention.

04/23/2026

If you're in leadership and you tolerate average in yourself, you tolderate it in your organization.

04/09/2026

Athletes can learn a lot from Brock Hardy of Nebraska. 👏

03/26/2026

PJ Duke takes extreme ownership in his semifinal loss at the NCAA Tournament.