RIC wrestling was on a break from December 7, 2007, to January 11, 2008. Coach Jones had planned three different trips to tournaments throughout the country to fill in for the lack of matches. Due to financial reasons, none of them panned out. That left the RIC team idle for five weeks.
That could have been disastrous. Fortunately for me, the opportunity arose to compete at Midlands “45” in late December. The tournament was the best in the nation on the Division I level. Because our team was under the allowed competition dates, I did not have to sit out any RIC matches to attend Midlands. Once I knew I could go without hurting my team, it came down to making the right decision for me.
I understood that other Division III wrestlers competed against better competition throughout the year than I was able to. That gave them a distinct advantage over me. If I went to Midlands, the gap between matches would be bridged, and I would also get a chance to experience the difference between divisions. In the past, Division III champions went on to win the Division I nationals.
On the other hand, I wanted to have a perfect season, and if I went to Midlands and lost, that goal would be gone. There was something mystical about ending a year undefeated. Accepting the invitation might become a major hurdle I would voluntarily force myself to overcome.
In the end, I decided to take that chance. It is better to lose a match or two during the season than going undefeated into nationals and leaving differently. As Tom Ryan told me while I was at Hofstra, “We learn a lot more from our losses than our wins.” I was still looking to learn.
My father and brother, Robbie, made the journey with me to Chicago. I was on my own with no coach in my corner, just my brother encouraging me and my dad videotaping. Robbie did an excellent job, and when I watched the tapes and listened back to the matches, I realized he had a lot of valuable suggestions. I guess all of those years of watching his older brothers wrestle had taught him well.
I had no one to drill with, which was a substantial problem. Drilling is such essential preparation for successful wrestling in competition. Luckily Ben Hoover, a fellow Division III wrestler, recognized me from nationals the previous season. “I remember your hunchback,” he said. That gave me a good laugh. My back had caused me much pain over the years, and I was glad some good came out of it.
The day before the tournament, I was six pounds over. The Christmas feast had only been three days before. Also, one of the downsides of the sport, the skin ailment ringworm, had sidelined me two weeks before the holiday. I was therefore not able to practice much leading up to Midlands. Two weeks off before the most challenging wrestling tournament in my life was not a situation I relished being in, but it was where I found myself.
I lost three pounds at the workout with Ben and then drank a bottle of water, which put me back to four pounds over. By my second workout, I weighed 144.5. I lost the remaining weight in the hotel workout room. After a bottle of ice water, I went to bed knowing that my body would “float” the added water weight by morning. I knew it was too much weight to cut the day before a tournament, but the skin infection had handcuffed me.
I woke up precisely 141.0. I weighed in and started to get into my routine. My first match was against the number seven seed, CJ Ettelson. I was unseeded. An older gentleman from the Iowa area sought me out to say that it would be a good match. That one line gave me confidence and reminded me that I belonged there.
I took Ettelson down with three different fireman’s carries. Powered by those takedowns, I beat him, 9-4. My bracket was massive, and to win it, I would have to duplicate my success five more times.
My second-round opponent was Keith Sulzer from Northwestern. The same inexcusable mistake I made in 2006 against Mike Conklin was about to bite me again. I overlooked him. He was unseeded, and I had just beaten a ranked wrestler. On the Division I level, seeds do not matter as much. (As Ettelson would prove later in the year when he defeated the number one ranked Division I wrestler, 9-3.) Sulzer had a bye in the first round and therefore had the luxury of watching my battle with Ettelson. He knew all about my fireman’s carry. The opportunity to strike with it never arose in my match with Sulzer.
Following a 2-2 first period, Sulzer rode me out the whole second period, giving him a point advantage. My riding ability was subpar at best. I chose to let him up at the beginning of the third. Now, I was losing 4-2. The idea was to wait until about thirty seconds left before I tried to score a takedown. Then in all probability, I would ride him out for the rest of the period and force overtime. At the premeditated time, I struck, got in very deep, and had him on his butt. He was lanky and tied me up until time expired. After eighteen straight wins, I had lost the first match of my senior season.
The entire third period, Robbie was screaming from my corner, “Shoot!” Even though I heard him, my thought was that “he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” In this situation, Robbie proved to be correct. I realized that my third-period approach was not well thought out. You cannot afford to waste any time during a wrestling match. And the thing that took way too long for me to learn was that I could never overlook anyone. I already knew this intellectually, but the problem was that simply telling yourself something is much different from actually following through with it.
I did not know it at the time, but the loss to Sulzer would turn out later to be the best thing that could have happened to me.
Despite the critical lessons, I fell into my usual funk after a loss. It was the price I paid for wanting to win every tournament. My third match was against a wrestler from Rider University. Before the bout, I thought, “If I just lose now, I could not worry about wrestling or making weight the rest of the weekend.” I was looking for an out. My excuse would have been, “I would’ve beaten that guy if we had wrestled in the winner’s bracket.” I did not think this consciously, yet I knew it was there.
The match began with a hand slap from Robbie. Even with my negative thinking, I scored two quick takedowns and was winning, 4-1. Then I took my foot off the gas. For whatever reason, I was content with leading when I should have had a killer instinct and broken my opponent when I had the chance. Instead, I wrestled too cautiously after I had built a lead and was unable to step up when the pressure was on. He closed the gap though I held on for a 5-3 win.
The way to wrestle is always with relentless pressure. For most of the season, I did exactly that, but at Midlands, I faltered because I was not confident enough. The victory over my Rider counterpart set up a match with Drew Headlee from Pittsburgh.
During the Headlee match, there were two key scrambles. They both went his way, and I ended up on my back for two seconds following one of them. The final tally was 10-4, in his favor. It would have been tied at six if I had gotten the takedown instead of going to my back. Moments make matches.
My Midlands experience was over. I had wrestled against some of the best wrestlers in the country at the Division I level. Dedication, hard work, and sacrifice are qualities that lead to success on any level of athletics. Looking back on the tournament, I could have won if I had gone in with the right attitude and wrestled well. That fact gives me a tremendous sense of pride and shows the importance of one’s mentality.
While my family and I were out to dinner that night, I explained my frustration with how the tournament went. My dad responded, “Mike, you did not come here to win; you came here to lose, now don’t let it happen again.” My father had seen right through me. My purpose for going had been to learn and not really to win. In one sense, I was successful because I did learn quite a bit, but I recognized that what my father said was right as well -- always go to win.
The bottom line for Midlands “45” was that I made the right move by going to Chicago.
The final bout of Midlands was the last live match Robbie ever saw me wrestle. He departed soon after for a semester abroad and left me a letter. It was sealed, and on the front in big, bold letters was written, “Do Not Open Until Iowa.” Iowa was where the 2008 NCAA Division III Wrestling Championships were held. I was extremely tempted to tear the letter open. Thankfully, I combated my impulses. The letter’s home for the next few months was on the wall above my calendar with a thumbtack stabbed through its heart. Robbie was one of four people who wrote me inspirational notes throughout college. The other three were Ray Hanley, my girlfriend Christina, and my former coach, Chris Chern. They combined to pen many letters to me throughout my career, which touched me deeply. All were somehow different in what they wrote, yet every letter always seemed to say exactly what I needed to hear at the time. I read them before every remaining match of my career and many times between. The letters were inspirational, confidence-building, reassuring, and, most importantly, positive.
In this sport, you cannot do everything on your own.
As soon as I flew back to New Jersey, I put the Midlands tournament behind me, although I was agitated that my “perfect” season did not come to fruition. Honestly, I had come to grips with the idea that it might happen, even before I had left for Chicago. It was time to reassess myself completely and “leave no stone unturned.” I had only one semester of wrestling left in my life, and I was determined not to deal with another loss.
Before heading back to Rhode Island, I continued double session workouts in New Jersey. And as did most of the civilized world, I went out on New Year’s Eve. No alcohol was ingested, although I was now over twenty-one. The year before, I had taken a shot of tequila, and while it probably did not hurt my wrestling, physically or mentally, it did not help.
An athlete should only try to do things that improve their chances of winning. Alcohol does not fit into that philosophy. To some extent, wrestling is not like baseball or football. Those athletes may be able to party during their season and compete at close to their highest level. Wrestlers cannot do that, no matter what they think. The ones who do, make it clear that partying is more important to them than accomplishing their goals. They may not admit it, but that is the bottom line.
On a practical level, drinking is detrimental to a wrestler’s weight. Drinking during the season only serves as a possible excuse for losing; an out. There is such a small window to accomplish incredible feats in athletics, especially wrestling. Drinking and partying close that window much quicker than nature eventually will. The season is less than five months each year and four years of college eligibility [Footnote 7: Due to Covid-19, the NCAA granted some athletes a 5th year.] is all anyone gets. In my mind, to waste any of that time would have been a sin.
What You Can Take Away from Chapter 10:
You make excuses to yourself just as often as to others.
A rule of thumb in training -- take the path of most resistance.
Do not wait to score, do it when you can.
Be grateful to the people who make sacrifices for you.