After my goal was in place, I knew there was a lot of work to be done before I became a high school wrestler. The goal was enough motivation to propel my work ethic to a new level. I decided to join a wrestling club to improve my chances of accomplishing my state championship dream. That decision led me to Mike Gibbons, the coach, who educated me with all the essential ingredients I needed to become a successful wrestler. Of all the people who later influenced my wrestling life, Gibbons taught me the most about the physical aspects of the sport during the two years he was my wrestling school instructor. He initially taught me my most effective move, the front headlock.
Gibbons had the most powerful legs, making him extremely difficult to score on. It was a physical attribute I wanted for my own body and one that is beneficial to all wrestlers. When I think back to those days, one of the things I remember most is the musky smell of that wrestling room. All wrestlers know this smell. It is a combination of mats, hard work, and sweat, as familiar to wrestling as the butterflies in one’s stomach before each match.
There were two mental strategies that I learned with Gibbons in the first year he was my coach. Mainly, I learned about the nature of dedication. Some nights, there was no one else at the club except for Gibbons and me. He reminded me that, like most wrestling goals, mine would take self-motivated dedication.
“If your shoulders were on a hot metal plate, you would get off your back,” Gibbons always said. He made it clear that there was no excuse for getting pinned. The only way it happens is if you give up. It would take me more than hearing those words to learn that. There were other lessons I would learn from Gibbons, but we parted ways with the closing of his wrestling school after my first year of high school.
My initial competition of the ninth grade came in an all freshmen tournament. In the second round, at 112 pounds, I lost 10-1. I was so frustrated that I went for a run outside in the freezing cold for an hour after the match. I somehow thought that subjecting myself to the frigid weather and the tediousness of the run would make me a better wrestler. Just like many who have irrational thoughts after a loss, I obviously did. My reasons for improving were in the right place, even if my methods were not. I wanted to make the varsity team as a freshman, and losing to another ninth-grader did not help my cause.
The 10-1 loss turned out to be excellent motivation for me. I realized that everyone loses from time to time. Even if I was not the best at that moment, it did not mean I would not end up where I wanted when all was said and done.
My major problem was Nutley’s superstar, Anthony Montes (@AntMontes17), was wrestling at 112 pounds. He was the slickest wrestler I ever wrestled with. During Montes’s freshman season (I was in eighth grade), he won districts, took second in the regions, and qualified for the state tournament at 103 pounds.
When a kid starts at 103, the idea is to move up one weight class a year to accommodate growth. This is the exact path Montes took, and to me, it seemed most great wrestlers did the same. In my freshman year, I was very concerned, I could not cut from 112 to 103, and the thought of beating Montes at his spot never entered my mind.
Luckily, the coaching staff noticed something they liked about my wrestling and immediately made Montes my workout partner. Any wrestler knows the importance of a well-matched workout partner, and Montes was just that for me at the time. He told me, before big matches, “Just relax and wrestle like you do against me, and you’ll be fine.” This helped tremendously, and it was advice I often passed along while counseling younger teammates.
My freshman year's most exciting dual meet occurred against our town’s rival. As in other big-time rivalries, it never seemed to matter which team was better on paper. I was on the varsity team at this point and won my match in overtime. The bout of the night was my brother Steve’s when he took on his own personal adversary. Steve used the nervous energy of the crowd to help him and ended up pulling out a 2-1 victory, complete with plenty of drama. His opponent’s father was escorted out of the gym by the police. The reason? The referee had not granted his son injury time. Fueled by Steve, our team won the overall dual meet.
After a long struggle, my original notion proved true as I could not make the lightest weight class in New Jersey high school wrestling. [Footnote 1: As of the 2011-2012 season, the lightest weight class is 106.] That inability to make 103 or beat Montes at 112 forced me to challenge Carlos Proano (@loscar83) for the 119-pound spot. Carlos and I had already become good friends since he took me under his wing. He was a junior at the time. The whole situation was gut-wrenching for my fourteen-year-old mind. The coaching staff knew I would garner a better seed at districts, and because of that, I got the wrestle-off and edged Carlos by a few points. Wrestling is beautiful in that regard; coaches cannot play favorites. The wrestler has to prove their merit, and if Carlos had beaten me, he would have gone to districts instead.
In my first District 14 tournament, I entered as the third seed at 119. Up until that point, I had wrestled exclusively at 112. I had the high point of my season again in a loss. This time, it was a neighboring town’s senior star wrestler who beat me in overtime.
My teammates, one in particular – Joey Romano, parents, coaches, and even some guys on other teams told me they were impressed with how I wrestled. As a freshman receiving all that praise, my head started to blow up from the attention. My inflated ego was quickly popped in the next match when I lost again. With a victory, I would have qualified for regions with a chance at making states. Instead, I got cocky, and my season ended right there. I learned never to make that mistake again.
Following my ninth-grade season, I knew the two Nutley high school coaches, Carmen Lore and Christopher Chern, were great guys. When I lost in the district wrestlebacks, they both voiced words of encouragement to me. It helped me realize that I failed because I did something wrong, not because I was not good enough. In this case, I was overconfident. There is a considerable difference between the two trains of thought, yet many people consistently lump them together.
The one thing that sticks out in my mind about Mr. Lore, my head coach, was the saying he told his wrestlers, “You can do anything for six minutes.” He always said that before tough matches. This reminded us that the length of a wrestling match is so short that anything is possible, no matter what the odds are. This was a saying I took with me and preached to myself repeatedly throughout my career, especially when I was sick or injured.
Mr. Chern once told me, “I wish we could clone your DNA. Imagine a whole team just like you.” That compliment meant so much to me at the time because he chose to say it, not after I won a big match, but after I lost a heartbreaker. It remains one of the best compliments I have ever received in the years since. I am very grateful that he and Mr. Lore were the coaches during my formative high school years.
For my freshman season, I was 9-3 on the varsity level and 17-4 overall, combining varsity, junior varsity, and freshman matches. I started 8-0 for varsity. Ironically, that would be my best start to a season and the best team I was part of for years.
It would be in the interim between my freshman and sophomore seasons when I made a decision that would shape so much of my wrestling mentality. I decided to go to the Edge School of Wrestling run by Ernie Monaco, which had a reputation for producing the best wrestlers in New Jersey. I made that choice because I set such high goals for myself.
In our contemporary athletic world, it is almost impossible to attain the highest level of achievement without fully committing to a sport. A high school wrestling season is only four months long, while joining a wrestling school allowed me to practice all year round. I was going to put in the extra work to accomplish my goal. I knew I needed to seek out additional knowledge, and that is why I decided to branch out and tap all the resources available to me.
The main thing The Edge taught me was the mental side of being a champion. As I was to learn later, that is more important than the physical aspects of the sport. Club members were told to think and act as champions, even if their skills were not at that level. I also learned to be careful who I compared myself to. To be a state champion, compare yourself to a national champion, not an average wrestler.
Some nights, my dad stayed and watched The Edge classes. On our twenty-minute drive back to Nutley, he would ask, “Why did you guys talk most of the night?” My father (@angelosbonora) reasoned that he had paid a good bit of money for me to learn secret moves that could turn opponents into a pretzel. I explained that the mental information Ernie gave us was more crucial. The Edge gave me what their name implies -- an edge. I highly recommend wrestlers to go outside of their high school programs as I did. Even without outstanding coaches, a wrestler will improve just by the extra practice.
Coach Monaco also taught me many new moves, which I continued to use throughout my career. Three of the most important lessons I learned include, “Fake it, till you make it,” “Anyone can win when they are up five points. It takes a champion to win when they are down five,” and “If your moves would not work on the best in the state, they are not good enough yet.”
By the start of my sophomore year, I was ready to use all of the tools I had picked up since my untimely loss the previous season. Unfortunately, the story of my sophomore year quickly turned into how to make weight. Since Montes went 119 his junior year, I had to drop back down to 112. I never cut more weight, as I weighed in at 135 in the preseason. This was foolish, of course, because all fifteen-year-olds are still growing. All I thought and cared about was controlling my food intake, severely hindering my wrestling.
This was the only year I dabbled in dangerous weight-cutting methods. I thought I had to take water out of my body before every match, using a sauna suit. The sauna suit allowed me to sweat much more rapidly. I also took water pills and exercised, and dieted excessively.
The real problem came after I ate dinner. Following some meals, I would run to the bathroom, turn on the shower, so no one would hear, and make myself vomit. I would eat an ice pop after each meal, and when I vomited, it would still be cold. This activity would probably make a mental health professional classify me as bulimic even though I was not doing it to improve my body image.
I also combined three different weight loss pills on an everyday basis. The worst experience I had all season occurred after taking one of these diet pills. By mistake, I ingested it before I had my throw-up session. As I threw up, I saw the pill. What I did next still makes me gag. I sifted through my vomit, found the pill, rinsed it off, and re-swallowed it. I could have easily taken another. My sick mind clouded my judgment. Everything I did was extremely hazardous and ignorant.
No one knew about these habits since I hid my activities. One time my mother (@ginnybonora) told me she could not believe parents would let their child cut weight to the point of almost dying. In my head, I thought, if you only knew. What I did was dumb, and it screwed up my body. I threw my metabolism out of whack, and I am fortunate I did not do more severe damage.
Even with the boost from The Edge and my work ethic, I again faltered in critical matches. I eventually turned those slipups into learning experiences later in my career, particularly the weight issues. I learned that an athlete has to improve every day, and any day that does not happen is wasted.
With weight weighing me down, my second high school wrestling season ended similarly to the first, with an unaccomplished goal. I did not place in the region after finishing second in the districts. When I lost my last match that season, I was happy because there were no more scales in my near future.
I knew at the time I still had a lot of work to do to accomplish my ultimate aim of a state championship.
With the conclusion of every match in my career, I always jotted down a little something about it. Below is a partial copy of what I recorded over my sophomore season. I wrote it to reread to myself throughout the year for motivation. Some of the notes were routine, though many revealed key insights from what was going on inside my head at the time.
2000-2001 Wrestling Season (Sophomore)
Goals: Make 112!!!!! At least 25 wins, WIN THE REGIONS!! BEAT MARROTA!! GRECO!! Palaez!!
Goals Accomplished: Made 112, Beat Palaez
Goals Not Accomplished: Winning the regions, blew my shot. And every other damn goal.
Overall Record- 24-7
…Dec. 29th, Christmas Tournament
1. WON by fall in 2nd (Pequannock)
2. LOST to Daly 19-9 (Cranford) He took me down 6 times (4 doubles). He put me to my back twice. Other points were 2 escapes. I took around 7 bad shots. Also didn’t circle enough.
3. WON 13-5 (PV) Placed third in Tourney
…Feb 2nd, 3rd, Counties-
1st- WON by Pin in First Period. (GR)
2nd- WON by 6 points (Cedar Grove)
3rd- LOST in double overtime to Greco
4t- LOST to Palaez 1-0 for 3rd place bout.
Placed fourth in Counties- terrible.
…DISTRICTS-
QUARTERFINALS- WON by Pin in 3rd Period (MKA)
SEMIFINALS- WON by 3-2 Decision over Palaez
FINALS- LOST 8-3 to Greco. I wrestled
like garbage! Got to use my head!
REGIONS-
PREQUARTERFINALS- WON by fall in 2nd Period
QUARTERFINALS- LOST to PV kid that I beat before, lost 8-7 because I let him reverse me with 5 seconds left.
FIRST ROUND WRESTLEBACKS- LOST to Marrota 15-5, my year is over.
Season Recap- Did not accomplish main goals. I was not focused enough at the end of the year. In the quarterfinals of the regions, I really should have beat that PV kid; I beat him earlier in the year 13-5, but I lost to him when it counts! I need to develop one more shot. I’ll do that over the summer. I did not get pinned all year and have not gotten pinned so far in my career. Also, I never lost a home match and hopefully never will. Next year EVERY GOAL I set will be ACCOMPLISHED.
Reading this summarization now, I realize that I only entered someone’s name when I lost. When I won a match, it was not a big deal. It was what I was supposed to do. The matches that were the most memorable and vital for my growth as a wrestler were the losses.
After I was eliminated, my mom tried to make me feel better by telling me, “Those kids who make it to states are a different breed. They’ve been wrestling their whole lives.”
I nodded but thought, next year, I will be one of those kids. Anything that made me work harder was motivation, and in this instance, my mother’s words proved very useful.
Following my sophomore season, my uncle, Lou Bonora, explained the importance of jumping rope. It is a secret boxers have known for generations, and it was a turning point in my career. Without this advice given and heeded, I would not be retelling my story. Up until that moment, I only had one shot that could consistently take my opponents down; a fireman’s carry. That was not enough to reach the high expectations I set. I began jumping rope obsessively in the offseason and, because of it, became speedy enough for my favorite shot, known as the dart or low single. It is easy to be discouraged by jumping rope. It took me weeks to perform the task correctly and years to perfect it. Keep at it because it will pay off in the end.
In the offseason, I had an important decision to make. I had at that time wrestled for three years with my Madelung’s deformed wrists. They were progressively becoming worse to the point where the Nutley coaches did not allow me to do any exercise that put unneeded strain on them. Steve had had the surgery to fix one of his arms after my freshman season when his wrestling career was over. He told me it helped in the pain department, though not the strength one. It was a scary proposition to have my arm cut open willingly, and my bones and tendons sawed into. However, my left wrist was severally twisted, crooked, and extremely weak. Talking it over with my brother and the rest of my family, I decided to have the operation on my left wrist.
The surgery occurred in March of 2001, and with four months of painful physical therapy, it was apparent the operation was a failure. My left arm became weaker than it already was and two inches shorter than before the surgery. Plus, the pain still nagged me. Naturally, I decided against attempting the second operation on my right wrist due to the lack of desirable results. I resolved that the wrist problems were something I would have to deal with for the rest of my life. I told myself many times that they were not to be used as an excuse if I did not accomplish my goal.
After my third year at 112 (eighth grade was 111), I jumped up to 130 for my junior season. Usually, when people make similar leaps in weight, they have grown. I, on the contrary, did not grow much in height. I realized that cutting weight was not the way to become a great wrestler. I never again wanted to feel the way I did my sophomore year when controlling food was the most critical aspect of my life.
When wrestlers on teams in the surrounding towns learned that I had moved up three classes, they said, “He is too small to wrestle at that weight.” I used the doubts as more fuel.
During the year, my workout partner, Montes, brought me to his private coach, Wally. I remembered with Wally that wrestling did not have to be all work and no play. Having fun is necessary to avoid burnout at all levels of wrestling. Wally and my Nutley teammates James Jasnowitz, Ricky Donatiello, and others made the grueling sport more enjoyable.
During my junior season, the match where I learned the most had nothing to do with me. It was between Montes and a wrestler from Bergen County, New Jersey. The previous year at the state tournament, Montes’s counterpart won by technical fall, a loss by fifteen points or more. Despite the lopsided victory, the rematch was highly anticipated all over the state, specifically in the northern parts. More than 1,000 people filled Nutley’s gym to capacity.
I was warming up behind the mat to wrestle immediately following Montes’s match. It was one of the rare instances in my career where I put off the warm-up to watch my teammate in action. The match was tied with a minute left in the third and final period. It was a vast improvement for Montes from their previous encounter. In the closing seconds, Montes’s legs were tied up in a double leg takedown. As his opponent lifted his legs off the mat to finish the move and win the match, Montes performed a cartwheel to spin out of bounds and get a fresh start. The buzzer rang, indicating the end of regulation. In overtime, Montes was the aggressor. He secured a deep single-leg takedown and dropped his counterpart for the two points and sudden victory decision.
It was the best match I have ever seen on the high school level. In watching that match, I saw just how powerful the desire to win could be. The match was scheduled specifically for Montes’s redemption, and he decided there was no way he was going to lose.
Montes carried a 35-0 record into states his senior year. Once there, he made the state semifinals before losing three consecutive matches to take sixth. For a long time, I blamed myself because I had failed to give him a planned speech before he left. With time, I came to understand that wrestlers decide their destiny. If a wrestler is missing tools, mental or physical, it is up to that individual to seek them out. A champion has to be prepared for anything and “leave no stone unturned.” I first heard that phrase in 2001 from Wally, and it never left me.
My junior season suffered a major setback when I lost in the region quarterfinals after taking second in the district again. I wrestled back to take third in the region and technically qualified for states, though I would not actually make it to the NJSIAA Wrestling Championships, which took place in Atlantic City. At the super regions (no longer in existence), I was winning 4-1 before being thrown to my back and losing by two points. This loss should have been enough to make me comprehend the best wrestlers rarely give up back points, especially in the closings seconds of a match. I was not ready to learn that yet. Even with the loss, my sights never deviated from my goal of attaining a state title the following season.
When my junior season was over, I read The Oliver Ruiz Story: Something Really Special, written by Jim Maxwell. It is a true story of a wrestler from Cliffside Park, New Jersey, that competed from 1994 to 1998. He had double-digit losses on his record and was beaten handily throughout his senior year of high school. In the district finals, he was smashed by Dave Cordoba. In the region semis, Anthony Conte won by technical fall. He somehow defeated his demons three nights later by beating Conte, 4-3, to qualify for the New Jersey state quarterfinals. In his first match at states, he upset the undefeated top seed before knocking off the once-defeated fourth seed in the semifinals. Now, Ruiz found himself in the state finals against Cordoba, the same guy who had thoroughly stomped him two weeks earlier. However, this time, on this day, Ruiz pinned Cordoba at 1:19 into the match to win the 119-pound state title.
I recommend Ruiz’s story to anyone. It motivated me through many losses and is proof that anything is possible.
Coach Lore always used to say, “Everybody only has two arms and two legs,” meaning any match is winnable. Oliver Ruiz proved that Coach Lore was right.
With the notion that anything was possible, I took my training to a new level. The July before my senior year of high school, I worked out at least twice a day. While living at my parent’s summer home in Wildwood Crest, NJ, I denied myself many things. When my family went out, I would say, “No, I’m sorry, I have to jump rope,” or “I’ll meet you there, I’m running.” Heading into my senior year, I did not think anyone could have worked harder than me.
The Edge, Mr. Chern, and Mr. Lore taught me a lot about the mental side of the sport before this season. In my senior year, I knew I still had to make up for my lack of experience on the mat. That notion led me to Olympic Wrestling Club. It was run by two talented wrestlers, Mike Gibbons, who was previously my coach as a freshman, and Florian Ghinea.
A wrestler could not get a better combination of coaches than these two. Gibbons was old school and basic, while Florian was all about crazy moves he was inventing. Gibbons was an NCAA Division I All-American in college, while Florian was the youngest ever Romanian National Champion. Florian was also a two-time NCAA Division III champion for Montclair State University.
Florian helped me perfect my fireman’s carry, which carried me throughout my career. He improved my front headlock, which Gibbons had initially taught me, and The Edge had made better. Florian’s final lesson, and perhaps most important, was his drag out of a front headlock. This move was instrumental in two of the biggest wins of my career.
When the season commenced, a significant change was in workout partners. Montes had graduated and was replaced with Joe Dwyer. Dwyer brought hard work and dedication to the team every year. He pushed me on the runs and during practice. Hardworking guys are always great to have as teammates, and Dwyer was one of the hardest-working teammates I ever had.
I believed I was going to have a perfect season.
At the first tournament in December, I lost in overtime of the finals. I took an ill-advised shot, and my opponent capitalized. A month later, I found myself opposite a friend and future state champion on the Saint Joseph Regional High School wrestling team, Rory O’Donnell. He and I were workout partners at Olympic Wrestling Club.
I was winning 7-2 at the start of the third period. From always practicing with him at Olympic, I knew he had one big move, a headlock. Even with this knowledge, I let Rory up to start the third, giving him a free point. I had scored three takedowns already in the match and was confident I could again. Once on our feet, Rory hit the headlock to score five points and held me there for the remainder of the match to win by one.
This was the final time I was hit with a headlock to my back. It took suffering one of these losses three consecutive years until I learned that particular lesson.
The very next match, I squared off against a great wrestler from the neighboring town of Clifton. I told Mr. Lore to bump me up from my regular weight class of 130 to his weight class of 135. My crushing loss to Rory played into the decision as my pride was getting the best of me. The Clifton wrestler pinned me in thirty seconds, and I was as stunned as the Nutley crowd. The loss stayed with me the rest of the year. Another lesson I still needed to learn was to let go of losses and focus on the next match, use previous matches to improve, and not dwell on past mistakes.
At the start of the district tournament, I was 16-4 and not 35-0, as I had hoped to be. A significant factor was electing to take time off for injuries and weight issues during the season. Despite the four losses on my record, remembering Oliver Ruiz kept my confidence to where I believed I was good enough to win states.
With the added help of Gibbons and Florian throughout the year, I was able to beat an old nemesis in the district finals who had bettered me twice my sophomore year. The Star-Ledger (Northern New Jersey’s major daily newspaper) picked him to win the upcoming regional tournament. Those predictions acted as motivation for me.
I won the Region IV crown by beating him in the finals again, and was now in the company of Nutley wrestling’s elite.
One week later was the state tournament in Atlantic City. I won a pre-quarterfinals bout after a first-round bye. It set up a match with Jared Mercado in the state quarterfinals the following day. He was one of the favorites since he had beaten the defending state champion, Ryan Bridge, the weekend before. Our match was 2-1 until the last thirty seconds when he scored a takedown off a front headlock to increase his lead by two. The takedown deflated me, and I was pinned right before time expired.
This loss shattered all my hopes and dreams.
The quarterfinals letdown occurred in March 2003, and for several years, I did not think it would ever stop bothering me. In the months that followed my Atlantic City experience, I felt the sport had betrayed me, and all my hard work in high school had been wasted. I ended up taking eighth at the state championships, and it became a number that I hated to its very core. With the tournament’s conclusion, my desire to ever step foot on a mat again vanished.
Here are excerpts from my 2002-2003 senior season notes.
Operation Destination Domination
Goal- STATE TITLE: I FAILED
Record: 23-7 Team record: 9-7-1
January (2003)
…22: Clifton- Got pinned in 30 seconds, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Team tied 33-33, but if I didn’t get pinned, we would have won.
February
…5: Belleville- Teched kid in the 2nd 19-3. Did not wrestle great, I leaned in too much, so he hit me with ankle picks but couldn’t finish. (I had 4 takedowns) Team lost we def. should have won. Too many kids got pinned, score was 43-27.
8: County Tournament- Did not wrestle- Hip flexor/groin muscle, this was one of the hardest decisions I ever had to make to pull out of this tourney my senior year. I decided if I got hurt again, I would not be looking too good by district time. So I knew what was more important and I’m trying to keep my eye on the prize.
…22: Randolph- Lost to Kaplan 9-7, and the match was not that close. He bumped up to wrestle me and took me down 4 times, I took him down only once and took so many horrible shots and didn’t set anything up. I wrestled really sloppy, I got to fix this before districts. No excuse for this. Team lost 36-33 but if I would’ve won we would have won.
DISTRICTS: Won Districts…Magic number is now 7.
REGIONS: Won Regions. I’m not wrestling great got to clean up my act by next weekend or I won’t be too happy. Magic number is now 4.
STATES: I LOST, MY CAREER IS OVER, I WON THE PREQUARTERS 7-3 OVER PLATT, GOT PINNED IN THE QUARTERS BY MERCADO, BEAT MANCUSO 10-7, LOST TO LIJO 7-4 AND THE LAST MATCH OF MY CAREER LOST TO HELLER 15-8. TOOK 8TH PLACE, HOPEFULLY ONE DAY I WILL SEE THIS AS AN ACCOMPLISHMENT RIGHT NOW IT’S IMPOSSIBLE. I FAILED, I THOUGHT ALL MY HARD WORK WAS GOING TO PAY OFF, I THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO BE A STATE CHAMP. MAYBE IT JUST WASN’T MEANT TO BE. I HAD MY OPPORTUNITIES I JUST DID NOT OR COULD NOT CAPITALIZE ON THEM AND IT COST ME MY DREAM AND IT SUCKS.
Season Recap (Written a week later)
I was meant to be a state champion. All my work was meant to pay off, but I did not do it. The reason is that I was afraid to wrestle. Fate took me there like it took Ruiz, I had just as much help, but higher powers cannot win matches for you. Ruiz went out and wasn’t afraid to win, he wasn’t afraid to try, and I was, and that is why I am not a state champ. “Fate it only takes you so far, once you’re there it’s up to you to make it happen.” That’s a quote I once heard, and I think it is one of the most accurate statements ever made.
When I first wrote this recap, at the age of seventeen, I did not think the words wrestling and future could be used in the same sentence when it came to me. However, five coaches shaped my high school wrestling career mentally and physically. They gave me all the tools I would need for my future wrestling conquests. Carmen Lore, Chris Chern, Mike Gibbons, Florian Ghinea, and Ernie Monaco helped plant a seed in me that would eventually blossom.
What You Can Take Away from Chapter 2:
Big-time goals take bigger commitments.
“Anyone can win when they are up five points. It takes a champion to win when they are down by five.”
You have to improve every day, either physically or mentally.
If you happen to find yourself on the losing end, remember Oliver Ruiz.