Parents in wrestling are courageous -- it's true;
They feel all the pain that their boy must go through.
At home, when he diets, they wish it could stop,
Yet know he must do it to stay on top.

Excuses for losing they will never endure,
Don't blame the ref, son, because of the score.
The coach, he will show you the best way to move,
Keep working in practice if you want to improve.

At dual meets you'll see them whisper a prayer,
As their boy must compete with no one else there.
Whatever the outcome, Mom cheers with deep pride,
While Dad, you will notice, stands right by his side.

They'll drive to a tournament; many miles away,
To witness a son who's prepared for this day.
Their boy, he has trained, with all of his might,
Having hopes of becoming a champion tonight.

But should he fall short, in his corner you'll find,
A Mother and a Father, supportive and kind.
They teach that through wrestling he'll learn about life.
Yes, living is filled with both triumph and strife.

Now if you are searching for people who care,
Just look by a mat, they'll always be there.
Such love for the sport is truly inherent,
That's why we salute, "The Wrestling Parent!"

Best Of Luck To All Wrestlers At Regionals and At State!

Oh yeah? I bet I can one-up you with wrestling poems. Here goes...

He was a man of flesh and blood. He wasn't made of rock. Angel, Devil, Child--a man of ordinary stock. But somehow he was different...True athletes always are. For though he cursed, and bled, and sweated, he prided in the scar.

They told him to win like a man, no matter what the cost. So many times he ventured forth. So many times he lost. And when they turned around and said, "it's okay son...you tried.' He'd grip his headgear in his fist, and like a man, he cried.

But from his tears came anger, then when it ceased to spin, he rose again, determined that next time he would win. His trembling body strengthened. His heart soared in the sky, and his sould stood flaming with fire in his eyes.

And so he worked relentlessly. He struggled and he strained. His conscience whipped him mercilessly for every pound he gained. He ran on legs like pistons; his muscled arms grew sore; he'd tell himself "I have to" and never asked 'what for?'

And then at last the reckoning; the final hour was here. His stomach lightened dangerously, his muscles tensed with fear. Weak-kneed he shook the challenger's hand...and then as one possessed, his instincts gave him power, and his body did the rest.

It suddenly was ended. His body seemed to scatter. A crowd was cheering somewhere, but to him it didn't matter. One thought was gleaming in his brain--a thought that made him smile. He'd given all he had, and that's what made it worthwhile.

He stood and faced his teammates, with pride instead of shame. He knew not that he'd won or lost, but that he'd played the game. And some call him the Wrestler, and some call him the Man, but he calls himself a winner, and the ref raised up his hand.

(whew!)

His Mamma

Very nice!!! Well done!
Good luck to all at Regionals

WOW! What Poets are hiding in some of you!

Good luck to all the wrestlers that have worked so hard to make it this far. And to all the ones that came up short too!!

Good luck to all coaches, for their teams!
Good luck to all teams, for their wrestlers!
Good luck to all wrestlers, for their coaches, and teams. may you all do your personal best, and none get hurt. and thanks to the parents for their support.
c-ya in witchita!

These are wonderful poems - both have alot of emotion, both show the perspective from 2 different sides. Kudos to you both!