A coach tells the Southern Maine Huskies to stretch in the practice room until it's time for the final home meet. But senior Rick Chipman sneaks out to the stands to visit some loved ones, including his granddaughter.
That's right: The Huskies' co-captain is a grandpa.
The NCAA doesn't track athletes by age, but anyone with eligibility remaining can play. This has produced a 59-year-old linebacker and a 73-year-old junior-college basketball player.
Most old players are one-season headline makers. Chipman, 44, just completed a college wrestling career that started when he was 40. He persisted despite a freshman season in which he was ostracized by his teammates, ridiculed by his son (a fellow student on campus) and clobbered by opponents. His freshman record: 3-18.
"He wasn't a step off, he was a lifetime off," said Huskies coach Joe Pistone, who is seven years younger than Chipman. Initially, Pistone called Chipman "sir."
Chipman finished his career last weekend at the NCAA Division III Northeast regional tournament. Wrestling with a fractured rib and at 174 pounds—two classes above his weight to make room for a teammate at 157—Chipman lost on opening day. His four-year collegiate wrestling record is 32-46, with no postseason wins.
A native of small-town Maine, Chipman says wrestling saved him. "I was running around town getting into trouble," he said. His mother had been 14 when he was born and "hadn't gotten her partying years out of her system so there was a lot I was exposed to."
But competing required good grades, no smoking and no drinking. His coach became a father figure. Chipman flourished as a high-school wrestler, nearly winning the state championship twice, losing in the final his junior year, the semifinal his senior year. He started thinking about making the Olympics but his high-school coach advised him to wrestle in college first.
During his first semester of college, his fiancée got pregnant, prompting him to drop out, get married, have a second child and work as everything from an insurance salesman to a mason's tender. Eventually, he became a firefighter and paramedic.
He never stopped wondering how good a wrestler he might have been. Nearing 40, Chipman decided to return to college, preparing for life after his firefighter days. Doing so also would give him a chance to wrestle again.
He wanted it badly enough to add wrestling to a full course load, 42 hours a week as a firefighter and one full-day weekly shift as a paramedic. Divorced and remarried, he also had a child on the way with his second wife.
His son, Spencer, a fellow Southern Maine student, called Chipman "stupid" for attempting to recapture his youth. But after working out with a personal trainer and shedding 35 pounds, Chipman felt ready.
The first practice floored him. He ran stairs for 30 minutes, then up and down a steep hill 10 times, doing 10 push-ups at the top and 10 sit-ups at the bottom, finishing with a "bear crawl" up the hill carrying a teammate on his back. "I couldn't quit because I'd look like a total idiot," he says.
Upperclassmen on the team openly questioned the coach's decision to give the old-timer a chance. Their cold-shoulder treatment "made me feel old," Chipman said.
One junior, Billy Cole, who became a good friend, said no one expected Chipman to last since even youthful wrestlers often quickly drop out.
Chipman reveled in the competition. "You wake up sore, with a black eye, your ear is almost torn off, but you just feel better than you've ever felt in your life," he said.
So he kept going, even though, he said, "I got my butt kicked." As the losses mounted, Pistone, the coach, worried. "Even I wasn't sure this was right for Rick," he said.
At the firehouse where Chipman worked, chief Stephen Hinds recalled that "most guys at work thought he'd do it a year and cross it off his bucket list."
But during the summer after freshman year Chipman ramped up his workout, inspired by the warrior spirit of ancient Sparta. "His favorite movie is '300,'" said Kate Chipman, his second wife.
By sophomore year, Chipman had won over his teammates. "He expected no special treatment and carried himself like some of the guys," said Cole. The generation gap did show itself during practice when teammates accustomed to working out to Eminem and Lil Wayne rebelled after Chipman plugged in Journey. "Chipman is never allowed to bring his music in again," joked a teammate.
Watching Chipman juggle wrestling, a full-time job and family responsibilities inspired his teammates. "Most of his teammates are kids whose biggest decision is what to have for breakfast," Pistone said. "With Rick around there was no excuse for them not to do the hard work."
During his sophomore year, Chipman transformed himself from a novelty into a star, winning 16 matches with grades strong enough that he became one of 145 scholar All-American wrestlers in Division III.
As a junior, Chipman performed well, until suffering a season-ending quadriceps tear. "That was not a young guy's injury," Pistone said.
Chipman missed the rest of the season and three months of work yet never considered giving up wrestling. "If he didn't finish he'd regret it," said Kate, a physical therapist, adding, "I told him he was not coming back in another 20 years to finish his eligibility."
If this were a movie, Chipman says, he would have returned full-force senior year and won that elusive championship. But this year was injury-plagued too, yielding just nine wins. When his entire family—father, wife, four children and granddaughter—showed up to watch him wrestle on Senior Day last month, Chipman lost both matches. "I've found that I do have limits," he said.
Despite losing in the regionals, Chipman is no longer haunted by thoughts of what might have been had he not dropped out of college. "I've gotten back a piece of me I was missing thanks to wrestling," he said.
Off the mat, Chipman has earned dean's list honors every semester. After graduating in the spring, he plans, at age 45, to enter law school.
