My husband, Garth (not his real name) and I were thrilled to learn that our son joined the middle school wrestling team for a couple of reasons:

• He's got 3 sisters
• It gets him out of the house and away from me and his 3 sisters (okay, mostly me!)
• He's been a big WWE fan since the 4th grade (I think!)
• No tryouts (i.e. everyone makes the team!)
• Refer to first two bullets, above

Watching some other kid try and kick the living Axe out of my son, not so much.

"Isn't that your son?"

[cringe]

"I'm not sure."

Because, I was too busy covering my eyes and, well, cheese and rice, but I thought soccer was bad.

Until, the other team gets a point.

"Yep, that's him."

The boy tries really hard and I tend to wonder if maybe I should be a little more aggressive in cheering him on, like soccer?

"OUCH, you see how that kid's head bounced off the mat!"

Wrestling, however, is much different.

"Throw him down!"

I'm not saying that wrestling parents are any better, or worse, than other sports families.

"Throw him down...HARD!"

It's just not the same, you know?

"OUCH, that must of hurt!"

So, I unlaced my fingers, pulled my hands away from my face, waited the few seconds for my eyes to adjust and realized...yep...it was indeed my son's head they were all waiting for to, you know, explode.

"Get outta there!"

I had my youngest on my lap and felt her startle a bit at, you know, my finally finding my voice (me, too!)

"Like a wiggle worm, bud!"

[eyes go wide]

And, my friend, sitting next to me, punched me in my arm...HARD...and, you know, it hurt.

"Are you trying to get your son beat up?"

Aaaaand, only when my oldest, sitting on the other side of me, started laughing, did I finally realize that, you know, maybe soccer isn't so bad, after all.

"....like a bad-assed, rabid, wiggle worm, bud!"

Or, maybe, next time, I should just stay home and send my husband, instead?

So, I did.

"So, how'd it go?"

Aaaaand, only when my son's frown, turned upside down (whoops, sorry!) I mean, gave the biggest mofo grin, did I realize that, you know, I was totally being faked out.

"I WON!"

[eyes go wide]

Really?  After all these months of my, giving "That's okay," and "Maybe next time," late night, pep talks, driving home from yet another defeat?!?

"DAMNIT!"

[cringe]

"I mean, I'm sorry I wasn't there to see it!"

This is the last week of wrestling season and I can't say that I'm not a little thrilled to, you know, see it end.

[cell phone rings]

Yesterday was their last "home" meet and my friend called to tell me that it ended early (DAMMIT!) and if I wanted her to bring my son home.

"Did we win?"

[pause]

"Uh, no."

[one beat, two beats]

"Yes, please!"

What?  It's not like I forgot to pick my son up, on purpose, or anything, right...oh, and I guess soccer and wrestling are more alike...than I thought...huh?

[sound of crickets, chirping]

Stupid sports!

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