My whole life, I have been surrounded by the sport of wrestling. Growing up, my dad was the head Wrestling coach at Stoughton High School. Ever since I can remember, I was out on the mats at tournaments or practices. However, I fell in love with soccer in elementary school. Wrestling was never my main sport. But, none of my relatives played soccer. I wanted to be like my dad for the same reason many young boys aspire to be like their fathers: he is my role model. I joined the Quincy Public School’s Wrestling team in sixth grade and also fell in love with wrestling. I have successfully balanced the two sports to this point, and I cannot say that I favor one over the other. But wrestling runs in my blood, so it holds a special place in my heart.

My dad is now an assistant coach of the Quincy/North Quincy Wrestling team. I love having my dad as my coach. He knows me well and knows how to motivate me. He is also not afraid to call me out for mistakes or push me extra hard because I am his son. His brutal honesty helps me become better. We spend a lot of time together during the season, and it strengthens our relationship.

In high school, my dad was a senior captain, and started his season 18-0 in his weight class. My uncle was also a senior captain and wrestled in college. It is a lot of pressure trying to live up to their legacies, especially when it is their expectation for me to do so. All of the coaches at tournaments see my last name and ask if I am related to my dad or my uncle. Whenever I lose, it feels like I have let them both down.

Most of our conversations in the Winter are strictly about Wrestling; it is what bonds us. For that reason, I am grateful to the sport for bringing me closer to them. However, it is challenging to lose and to feel not good enough. When I have success, we celebrate together and it feels like I am making my dad proud. A victory makes me feel like I am further on my path of following in his footsteps. When I lose, he says it is okay and pushes me harder. In the moments after a loss, he says I still had a good match. But the day after or the practice after, he pushes me harder to win the next one. I know he loves me the same when I do not win, and most of the pressure comes from my own head. He doesn’t care whether I win or lose, but I know he would rather me win. And it is probably for my sake too, because I am happier when I win.

At one point I realized these expectations are figments of my imagination. I can still live up to them, while creating my own path and honoring their legacies. There is no pressure to be exactly like my father. He wants me to be myself. My dad always told me growing up, “Do you know how boring the world would be if everyone was alike?” I can write my own story and my own future. It helps to realize that I am my own person, and that my successes and my failures build me into a better athlete. I cannot expect myself to be exactly like my uncle nor my dad, especially because they too want me to be unique. America is a diverse place, and our differences make us special. He doesn’t want me to be exactly like him, but rather wants me to have my own, unique success in the same sport. I can make my own legacy, while still making the people with the strongest expectations of me proud.

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