JohnA Passaro's Blog, page 39
March 15, 2017
Don’t Eat My Food
[image error]My most important win, and my only win, as a college wrestler, did not occur in a gym on a wrestling mat, it occurred off campus, on my kitchen floor.
It was the fall of 1983; I was a freshman at college.
My father was out of work for a couple of years before I went off to college.
Money was tight, real tight.
When my parents dropped me off at Southern Connecticut University and handed me a bag of food, it was understood that bag of food needed to last for a while.
There was no meal plan.
My meal plan was that bag of food.
A bag, which on the first night in the house I left unprotected.
To my dismay, when I awoke the next morning, my food was gone.
I made the mistake of asking my new roommates, “Who ate my food?” in front of everybody.
And of course, it was the wrestler who weighed 220 pounds.
Remember, back then I only weighed 126 pounds.
I said, “Listen, all you had to do was ask, I would have let you have some of my food.”
He said, “Nah, it doesn’t work that way.”
I said, “What?”
He said: “It doesn’t work that way. I will eat your food whenever I want to eat your food.”
To galvanize his point that he could do whatever he wanted, without any fear of retribution, he swatted my head as he walked by me.
He then made the mistake of turning his back on me and dismissing me.
As soon as he turned his back on me, I lowered my shoulder and I rammed it into the small of his back.
He fell, face first, to the ground.
I knew what was coming next.
He got up and he beat the heck out of me for a few minutes.
He continued to do this until he thought he got his point across. The point being that he was going to eat my food, and there was nothing that I could do or say that was going to stop him from doing so.
He eventually got up, turned around and started to walk away thinking he was victorious.
I also got back up and I rammed my lower shoulder into the small of his back again.
And the process repeated itself for a few more minutes – he beats the heck out of me, I get up, he turns his back on me and I ram my shoulder into the small of his back and he falls, face first, onto the floor.
On about the sixth cycle of this process, he decided he needed to teach me a lesson.
As I was approaching to annoyingly put my shoulder into the small of his back for the sixth time, he turned around and viciously head locked me. My feet flew above my head and on the way down they landed on the edge of the kitchen table with such force I thought I had broken my leg. I had never experienced such pain in my life. I mean the pain just shot through my body almost pleading with me, begging me to stop getting back up, to just lay there.
Which, I did.
As my oxygen was being cut off by his intense vice grip on my head, I played possum.
I played dead.
I made believe I submitted.
It was the only way out.
And it worked.
He not so gingerly got off me and walked away.
He never even considered looking over his shoulders to see if I was going to attack him a seventh time.
That was a mistake on his part.
This time I allowed him to get a few feet further away from me so I could get a running start, then I rammed my shoulder into the small of his back again for the seventh time.
With the running start, I was able to build up enough force to jack knife his back when I exploded into him.
This time I was quick to my feet and was able to get away from his grasp when I said to him, “I don’t care what you do to me. You are not going to eat my food unless I give you permission.”
I didn’t care about the consequences. I could take any physical beating. He was nearly one hundred pounds heavier than I, it only made sense that he could physically dominate me.
I knew he was going to beat the heck out of me until he felt I was going to stay down on my own, so his power over me would continue without his body having to physically be on top of me, keeping me down.
But I wasn’t going to let him mentally dominate me.
That I could control.
At this point, he had a decision to make. He either could never turn his back on me again or go away and decide it was not worth his effort.
He confused having physical dominance over me with having mental dominance over me.
He may have physically outweighed me by one hundred pounds but mentally he was no match for me.
I was going to get up and fight every time I got knocked down.
No matter what physical beating he laid on me, he was never going to get to my will.
He realized the same thing. He turned to me and said, “You’re crazy man, it’s just not worth it.”
And he called a truce.
Life is the same way.
There are events that will absolutely dominate you in life, but you can never let them seep into your soul and break your will.
Belief, confidence, enthusiasm, optimism, hope, these traits you need to protect like a king’s treasure, for they are more valuable than any currency in life.
There are days life is going to try to eat your food.
And the honest truth is, it can.
You only have two choices.
The first being, to sit back, let it happen and let your will be broken.
And the other is to fight back, knowing you are going to take a beating, but your will and soul will remain whole.
Always fight back.
The beatings stop and the wounds will heal.
Broken wills, seldom do.
Sometimes giving it all you have is enough.
Every time you get up and fight, it takes the fun out of it for life.
All life wants is to know you will stay down without it having to be there, keeping you down.
Once it realizes your will is strong and you will get up every time it knocks you down, it will move on because it can’t accomplish what it set out to do.
And that is to dominate your soul.
Which you, and only you alone, control.
Eventually, life will just move on to something else.
And your soul will flourish.
“Don’t Eat My Food”
Is an excerpt From
“Every Breath is Gold”
“Every Breath Is Gold” Includes 3 Memoirs:
6 Minutes Wrestling with Life, Again, Your Soul Knows
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March 14, 2017
The Ultimate Goal
[image error]Wrestling people in the know, know that Tom Giaramita has been one of the most impactful and influential people in the history of Long Island wrestling.
Way before wrestling clubs became prominent on Long Island, the Blue Wave wrestling club, became the standard of excellence and a model of success.
The Blue Wave Wrestling Club became the feeder system for John Glenn High School and despite its size, barely having enough students to qualify as a D1 school, John Glenn has been a dominate force in Section XI wrestling since 2008, capturing three Section XI Tournament Championships and four runner-up finishes over that time span.
John Glenn’s success has been a team effort as TJ Brocking has done a fantastic job coaching John Glen HS and is a major reason for their success.
There is a saying when investing, to watch where the smart money invests.
With the success of Blue Wave and the inherent success of John Glenn, well, people noticed.
Wrestling Clubs became much more prominent on Long Island.
And their success had a lot to do with having Blue Wave as their model.
But I attest to you one thing.
People following the smart money, though, may have ultimately missed Tom’s potentially greatest impact on Long Island wrestling.
His real genius.
When Tom’s son, Joe won a Section XI Title in 2011 and was 3rd in NYS @ 189 pounds, it was decided that Joe would attend SUNY Cortland. A Division III school.
Where he would become a 4x All-American and National Champion.
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“I only want to wrestle D1.”
I have heard that so many times.
I have even said it myself more times than I care to say.
If you are in the process of saying that now – I beg you to listen.
I implore you to open your mind, to understand, to explore.
To do what is right for you, which is to find the right fit for yourself, regardless of division.
“Surround yourself with great people, that is the key to success,” we have all been told that many times in our lives.
I am here to tell you when a Brad Bruhn from Cortland or a Jon Egan from Roger Williams, or a Lonnie Morris from Johnson and Whales or a Shaun Lally from Muhlenberg or a Dean Zenie from Mount St. Vincent or a Joe Patrovich from LIU Post comes calling inquiring about your services to wrestle for their DII or DIII programs, to listen.
They are good people.
They run excellent programs.
Listen to what they have to offer and introspect the reasons you are wrestling.
If you love the sport, I mean you truly love the sport, if you love competition, love fighting and the feeling of battling of being pushed to your physical and mental limits then pay close attention.
If you hate losing and love figuring out how to win against a worthy opponent who has beaten you prior; if you love being part of something bigger than yourself; if you love the person you are when you are in training striving to be the best version of yourself that you can be – then you love wrestling.
“There are no scholarships in D3, why would I want to go there?”
I don’t believe anywhere in the above paragraph of what you loved about wrestling, money was ever mentioned.
If you love money, get a job.
If you love to wrestle, wrestle.
In my opinion, the main goal should not be to get a scholarship or receive money.
It is very difficult to wrestle with money in your pockets.
The main goal in picking a program should be having an opportunity to compete while surrounding yourself with great people.
Of course, there are great people in D1. Without question. Absolutely great people. Great programs, great coaches.
My point is, if you find yourself saying, “I only want to wrestle D1,” or “D3 doesn’t offer any money, why would I want to wrestle there?” then your mindset needs to be adjusted because it is that mindset which is reducing the opportunities to compete while surrounding yourself with even more great people.
And that is the ultimate goal.
“Watch where the smart money invests.”
I believe when all is said and done, when the people watching the smart money finally figure it out, Tom Giaramita’s biggest impact on Long Island wrestling can be seen by what I believe was his ultimate goal.
To give his son an opportunity to compete while surrounding him with great people, regardless of money.
WRESTLING WRITING
Capturing the People and Culture of the Greatest Sport on Earth.
Read The First 3 Chapters Online
Be Incapable of Discouragement
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March 11, 2017
Miles Are Traveled by Fighting For Inches
[image error]People have often asked me why I named my son Maverick.
I explain that there is a dialogue in one of the scenes in “Top Gun” where two lieutenants were discussing the Tom Cruise character and one asked the other,
“If you were going into battle – would you want him on your side?”
The answer to that simple question struck me as being important enough to name my son after.
It took 5 years of Falling Forward, sometimes battling for inches at a time when miles were needed.
In the end, without the inches the miles aren’t traveled.
The hundreds of forks in the road over the last five years, some taken successfully and some not, somehow made you arrive exactly where you are right now.
A person I am proud of and one who I would go into battle with at any time.
How some wrong turns turn out right is a mystery only the universe understands.
One, I am grateful for.
In every battle I’ll ever face, I’d want you on my side.
Your ability to fall forward means it may take you some time, but you get there.
Congratulations on getting there.
Not only on the mat, but off of it as well.
March 2, 2017
I Became a Wrestler, by LTC Matt Weingast
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I am a US Army Combat veteran of 3 tours.
I must admit that it was my wrestling background that prepared me for surviving and succeeding during those tours more than my Army training.
There is no way I can explain it in words.
It’s not that I was that good or successful as a wrestler, I started very late by most standards in 10th grade, but I somehow managed to wrestle on a D1 team and earn my letter.
More importantly, “I became a wrestler.”
Along the way, I was coached by some amazing men, whom I owe so much too; particularly Coach Jay Billy at AU.
I also had so many teammates who helped me enormously.
Perhaps the biggest pride I take in having wrestled is that I introduced the sport to my son.
I watched as he learned the lessons this great sport teaches.
In the beginning, he was a non-athletic kid without a ton of natural talent.
Along the way, he learned how hard work leads to success.
He became the captain of his high school team, and he earned a spot at the United States Air Force Academy.
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Knowing that he experienced the feeling of “Becoming a wrestler,” and watching his pride and sense of achievement soar along the way just cannot be described.
If I could, I would do nothing but coach wrestling for the rest of my life.
It’s just that important.
Not because of one’s wrestling career, but because of what it adds to a life.
LTC Matt Weingast
READ THE FIRST 4 CHAPTERS
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It has taken me all of my life to realize my goal in life is not to look successful to the world, but to be significant to a few.
There are times when you meet someone who winds up making a big difference in your life. In the way, you think, how you act, who you have become. And despite time or their absence, a piece of them continue to live inside of you.
My life has bounced between the extremes of exhilarating and excruciating many times, but no matter where my life is in my life’s cycle the impact this one man has had on it has always been quite evident.
A Good Man has that effect on you.
Never Too High, Never Too Low, by Jamie DuBois
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At age 7, my son, Mookie, as we call him, was maturing as a child and as a wrestler.
He started to grasp the concept that hard work in the wrestling room would pay off in matches.
In his first tournament, he placed 4th.
His eyes were bright with optimism, and our family couldn’t have been more proud.
Everyone was excited about the future.
Until December 1st, 2015.
The day our lives would change forever.
On that day, Jaidon, Mookie’s sibling, and his best friend in the world took his own life.
The devastation, heartache, and pain were as you may imagine, unfathomable for us all, but I worried the most about my seven-year-old baby boy Mookie.
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The suicide of my son, unfortunately, didn’t stop with him.
In the next two months there would be three additional suicides;
It had our small community of 6,500 in darkness for quite some time, so healing was even harder than it would normally be.
I didn’t know if it was going to be helpful or not, but eventually, in an attempt to get things back to semi-normal, I started taking Mookie to wrestling tournaments.
To be honest, I was still in a daze and didn’t know what to do.
I did, however, state one thing to my wife and my son; “No matter what shortcomings we may have in the future, we will NEVER use our tragedy as a crutch or an excuse.”
Mookie goes out and wrestles with just plain guts over the next few tournaments, but goes 0-2, 0-2, 0-2, 0-2, 0-2.
Never once did Mookie blame his performance on the loss of his best friend, his idol, his big brother, Jaidon.
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Not one time did I hear any talk from him of giving up.
Mookie may have lost his last 10 matches, but he is not defeated.
A few months go by and a new season would begin.
There’s fire in his eyes.
He’s determined to right the ship.
He’s working harder.
He has a better focus.
He’s encouraging other kids to quit horsing around during practice.
He wants this.
He goes to his first tournament of the season, nervous, but prepared.
In his first match, he gets on the line; the ref blows the whistle, his opponent hits a dart double and puts Mookie on his back.
The match is over in 30 seconds.
Mookie is now 0-11.
He comes off the mat devastated.
After the match, I understand it is more important to be his dad, rather than his coach.
I calm him down; I let him know I am proud of him for competing, for fighting.
In his next match, he draws a kid who is obviously new to the sport.
We have a quick little talk about “never getting too high, or never getting too low.”
He toes the line.
The ref blows the whistle.
SLAP.
9.6 seconds later the match is over.
Almost a year later, Mookie finally wins.
I can only imagine how good he must feel, but at the same time, I want him to be respectful to his opponent and not showboat.
I watch closely, and to my pleasure, I don’t see a fist pump, I don’t hear any “yay’s,” just a big exhale, and a small smile.
I watch my son, who’s world has crashed down on him, spend more time consoling his opponent, than the match lasted.
He walks off the mat.
I want to pick him up and hug him and throw him in the air and yell how proud I am.
He walks over to me and says, “The streaks over.”
He gives me a big hug and puts his sweatshirt back on.
NEVER TOO HIGH, NEVER TOO LOW
Little did I know at that moment, he wouldn’t lose again for quite some time.
And just like that Mookie runs off 11 straight wins.
I wish the story were the ultimate comeback story where he becomes a state champion, but it’s not.
He goes on to the State Championships and places 8th.
I have always told Mookie that the greatest reward one gets from wrestling aren’t the trophies you get to put on a mantle, or the awards you get to put around your neck, it is the inner knowing that you know how to fight.
And when life puts you on your back, you fight hard enough to survive. You make it to the next period. And eventually, your hand will get raised.
I couldn’t be more proud, that a little, skinny wrestler that is special to me, and whom I love with all my heart, was listening all along.
Jamie DuBois
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They call it the greatest sport on earth for a reason.
It just took me 26 years to figure out why.
READ THE 1st CHAPTER
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March 1, 2017
The Glue, by Bud Gordon
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Both of my parents had left by the time I was four years old.
I had moved 16 times before I saw my 19th birthday.
I stayed mostly with my grandparents and uncles.
When I was thirteen, I caught back up with my mother in a small town in rural Virginia where a schoolmate asked me if I would try out for the wrestling team.
I may have set the record as the least talented wrestler ever to walk on a mat.
Despite my lack of success in the sport, wrestling taught me some great life-lessons.
Most importantly, it taught me that although things are tough, you can win if you don’t give up.
This lesson has made me be a better husband and a better father to this day.
Fast forward a couple of decades.
I introduce my son to the sport that I love.
For the past dozen years, we have been trapped in a car for at least six hours a week going to practices, clinics, and tournaments all over the east coast. We have attended NCAA’s together.
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My son has now won four Virginia State Championships and will be attending a George Mason in the fall.
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I am grateful for all that God has given me, especially for the first time he helped me lace up my shoes.
All the on the mat success is great, but I am most grateful to wrestling for being the glue which has kept my family closer together.
The time my son and I have spent together, is priceless to me.
Even more priceless, is the fact that I know he will do the same with his son one day too.
Bud Gordon
Wrestling Writing
Capturing the People and Culture of the Greatest Sport on Earth.
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Barnes & Noble Amazon iBooks Google Play iTunes
Going Deep, by James Carder
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I started wrestling at the age of 4 years old.
My parents supported me 100% through all of the ups and downs, the summer wrestling, the camps, the late nights and early mornings.
I had pretty good success.
Wrestling was my life.
That’s all I thought about year round.
For fourteen years.
It was my first love and my first passion.
Everything I did was with the intent of becoming a better wrestler.
Entering my finals match in my senior year, I was 35-0, and a favorite to win the state title.
My life long dream.
Everything I had sacrificed all of those years was geared towards that one goal.
I lost 1-0.
On a penalty point.
I accepted a scholarship to wrestle in college, but after my loss, I disconnected with the sport.
I never gave it my all after that.
The sport had failed me in my mind.
Over the next 22 years, I stayed in touch with all of the friends I met through wrestling, many of them my best friends to this day, but I only attended a couple of matches over those years.
Every time I entered a gym with mats on the floor, it simply hurt too much.
I felt betrayed.
The sport had failed me.
This year my son, Brogan, began wrestling at the age of 6.
He took to it like a duck to water.
I could see with my trained eye that he had the things that you can’t teach, the killer instinct, the balance, the body awareness, the speed, all of it.
I took him to practices but didn’t participate too much.
We hit a few tournaments, and he begged to go to more, but I wasn’t sure how deep I wanted him to get involved with a sport that failed me.
Then I read your book.
By the grace of God, my wife gave me “6 Minutes Wrestling with Life” for Valentines Day.
I realized as I was reading your book, ALL of my success in life came directly from the life skills that wrestling has taught me.
Not being afraid to take a chance, the belief in myself that I can accomplish anything, the “no fear” attitude that I have when my back is against the wall, the never give up attitude, it all was because of wrestling.
99% of my best friends that I have in this world, great people, would not be my friends today if it were not for wrestling.
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I wouldn’t be married to the love of my life, my wife, if it were not for wrestling as our common ground of the love of this sport brought us back together 20 years after we first dated.
All of it.
All of the joys, the qualities that make me successful and most important that passion that I live life with today would not be there if not for the sport of wrestling.
Then it hit me.
Wrestling never failed me.
Not one single time.
I failed to uphold my end of the bargain with wrestling.
The unwritten pact between a wrestler and the sport that says, “If you give me 100%, I will give you 100% in return.”
Instead of sticking with the sport that brought me all of the joy and success in my life, I stopped because the loss hurt too much.
The only regret I have to this day is not giving it my all until the end of my competitive career.
I took my son and my daughter to the state tournament this past weekend.
For the first time in 20 years, I cried.
I felt such a sense of joy, relief, and happiness.
And it would not have happened had I not read your book.
I would not have gone to that tournament.
I spent an hour and a half on the phone today with an old wrestling buddy, who is very much accomplished in his own right. We talked about everything from what I need to do to give Brogan all of the tools necessary to accomplish his goals (he wants to be a state champ someday) to the lessons that wrestling has taught us as individuals. We talked at length about why we are both so very passionate about the dedication that it takes to be great at something.
I had lost contact with this very dear friend because 23 years ago I chose not to continue down the path that we had started together.
He became a 4x D2 All-American and 2x D2 National Champion.
And I chose to leave that path prematurely.
While speaking today, we vowed to stay in touch.
That doesn’t happen without my reading your book.
I have so much more to say, but for now, I will say one more time:
THANK YOU, SIR.
You have not only renewed my passion for the sport, but you have also allowed me to see that if I don’t renew that passion, I will be doing a great injustice to my first love, my son.
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And for people like myself who do our best to live life with no regrets, having to live with a second regret would do me in again.
THANK YOU.
I’m going deep.
James Carder
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February 22, 2017
Unknown, by Jaqub Gurule
I was in the drive-thru at a Sonic when I got a phone call from an unknown number.
I answered it.
It was my doctor.
He said, Jaqub, I hate to be the one to inform you – you have been diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis.
I was 19 years old and was a standout wrestler on the State, National and International level.
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You just don’t know what journey wrestling is really preparing you for.
The life traits, attitude, and perseverance the sport of wrestling teaches you are beyond anything any school can do for you.
In reality, my wrestling career prepared me for my greatest match….. against LIFE.
Jaqub Gurule
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I believe every experience we go through in life is to prepare us for what is to come in our lives.
To teach us the life lessons we need to know so we can best handle our ultimate test, somewhere in the future.
I believe that our lives are an accumulation of life lessons that can only be learned by personal experience, to be completely understood.
I believe the universe takes us on goals and missions in our lives we believe are the most important things to us at the time.
It does this to teach us lessons that we need to experience and learn, so we can successfully execute them when our real mission in life finally arrives.
I believe that if you really listen, your soul will talk to you.
And when it does…
Listen, Trust, Act
It is recommended that you read 6 Minutes Wrestling with Life & Again prior.
Your Soul Knows is book #3 in the “Every Breath is Gold” Memoir Series
READ THE FIRST THREE CHAPTERS of Your Soul Knows
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Great Friends Will Give You the Shirt Off Their Wall, by JohnA Passaro
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“Hey, thanks for sticking up for me back there. That was real nice of you to do that,” Bill Otranto said to me as we were walking out of Mrs. Knoepfler’s class back in 1979.
“No problem, Bill. Those kids shouldn’t have treated you like that,” I said as I advanced to wrestling practice.
“Can I be your friend?” Bill asked me.
I looked at him with the look that said, “I didn’t know you needed permission to be someone’s friend?”
Bill misinterpreted the look.
“No, really, I want to be your friend.”
“What do I have to do to be your friend?”
I got the sense that Bill just wouldn’t take the traditional silent approach to becoming friends and needed something concrete actually to initiate our friendship, so I flippantly said, “Write “Do It Up Otrants” 1000x and give it to me by tomorrow, and then we can be friends.”
“Ok, you got it.”
After practice that night, Bill was the first one out the door. I remember seeing him running through a field of six inches of snow to get home so he could start writing.
By the next day, I had forgotten about the whole thing.
So, as I was putting on my third pair of sweats, getting ready for wrestling practice, Bill drops this forty-page stapled document on the bench where I was sitting.
“We are friends now, right?”
“You are crazy man. I wasn’t serious when I told you to write that,” was my reaction.
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“No, No, you said that if I wrote, “Do It Up Otrants!” 1000x, we would be friends. I did it, so now we are friends. You can’t go back on your word.”
“Bill, I considered you a friend way before you wrote ‘Do It Up Otrants 1000x’”
And that is how my friendship with Billy Otranto began some thirty-five years ago.
Not only were Bill and I friend’s we were teammates.
Not only were we teammates, but we were also workout partners.
Not only were we workout partners, but we were also part of something that was bigger than both of us.
Something that both he and I were proud to be part of.
Bill and I were part of the resurrection of the William Floyd Wrestling Program back in the late 1970′s, early 1980′s.
At the start of my wrestling career, in the 6th grade, I remember attending William Floyd’s high school wrestling matches.
I remember being amazed.
Not in a good way.
I remember William Floyd being shut out match after match.
Not only were they shut out, but also in one match I remember watching, not one William Floyd Wrestler scored a point.
In any match.
Not one.
A few things happened over the next few years.
Dan Nolan, who I consider a dynamic coach, took over the program and he taught us how to believe.
He taught us how to think,
“Why not us?”
“Why shouldn’t we win?”
“We deserve to win just as much as anyone else.”
By the time I got into the 9th grade in 1979, the team was winning.
Not only were we winning, but we also got a couple of big wins, and we started to be recognized.
As a team.
In 1981, William Floyd won the Class “C” Championship.
In 1982, we won the Class “B” Championship.
Pride was a new emotion for all of us.
I remember Coach Nolan getting us green and yellow mesh shirts to celebrate our Championship.
To be part of the ride from total obscurity to winning the Suffolk County Team Championship, no matter what class, was one of the most rewarding feelings I ever had as an athlete.
To this day, I have a special bond with every teammate who shared that experience through those building years.
But none as close as the one I have with Bill.
We may not see each other as much as we should, but we would be there for one another on a second’s notice.
And we have been.
I for him, and him for me.
A few years ago, while I was attending his house warming party, Bill took me downstairs to show me his basement which was a cross between a wrestling room and a gym.
As he was showing me around, my eyes become fixated on a case hanging on the wall.
Inside the case was a yellow and green shirt.
Not just any shirt.
The shirt.
The shirt we received to celebrate our 1982 Class C Wrestling Championship.
That was in 2010, 28 years after we accomplished a feat that we were proud of.
“I can’t believe you still have that shirt,” I remember saying to Bill in astonishment.
“That has to be almost 30 years old. I bet it’s the only one still left.”
I am not a rich man, but I offered Bill $500 on the spot for it.
He knew I was serious.
He said he would never give up that shirt for any amount of money; it just meant too much to him.
I offered again.
He stood firm.
I quickly joked that he better install an alarm system in his house, because I was coming to get it when he wasn’t home.
He did.
I’m serious.
That shirt meant so much to him.
In 2010, Maverick was just becoming good, but far from State Champ material, so Bill felt safe saying to me, “I will give you this shirt when Maverick wins the States.”
Years later, as I sorted through the mail, mostly of items I did not want to open, there was one package that caught my eye.
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It was addressed to me, from Bill Otranto.
I quickly opened the package.
It was the shirt.
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32 years old, as fragile as can be, with rips at almost every seam.
I picked it up.
There was a note attached.
The note read,
“How’s this for an act of kindness.
No strings attached.
It’s yours.
Your boys have done great.
I’m very proud of them. “
Your Friend,
William Otranto.
With the P.S. taking a jab about the difference in my weight since 1983.
I couldn’t have received a more meaningful gift, from anyone, in my life.
You see, wrestling is all about sacrifice.
It’s about giving up something you truly value, to hopefully get something that you value even more in return.
Bill gave up one of his most prized possessions in return for my happiness, friendship and something that he valued more.
His word.
It seems, in the end, that I was the lucky one the day Bill and I became friends.
A good friend will give you the shirt off of his back, but a great one will give you the shirt off his wall.
JohnA Passaro
This story and 30+ others can be found in
Wrestling Writing
Capturing the People and Culture of the Greatest Sport on Earth.
Read The First 3 Chapters Online
Be Incapable of Discouragement
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February 21, 2017
Inside Job, by Gino Giacoio
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There was very short time left in the match, I was down 6-4, and I needed a takedown.
I kept shooting and attempting takedowns, but nothing was working.
I was exhausted and near my limit.
I considered stopping and giving up, I asked myself with only 12 seconds left how could I win?
That was until we went out of bounds and I saw the exhaustion in my opponent’s eyes.
As we went back to the center, I heard a quiet, but powerful voice in my head.
It told me to “Always be the first person back to the circle.”
Which is what you wrote on the inside cover of a book you sent to me after I emailed you about how much your books inspired me.
Snapping back into reality, I realized my opponent was even more tired than I was.
There was no way I was going to let him stall out the last few seconds for the win.
I heard my team cheering for me.
A burst of adrenaline shot through my body.
As soon as the whistle blew I took a shot and with every ounce of my strength and energy, I got the takedown.
Better yet, my fireman’s carry took him to his back.
I got back points in the final few seconds to win the match 8-6.
After the buzzer blew, I immediately jumped to my feet and started clapping.
I was extremely excited and overjoyed that I pulled out the win.
The whole gym was on their feet screaming, and I heard my coaches scream
“Good job, Gino – That’s how you finish!”
It may only have been a regular season dual meet win, but it gave me a great confidence boost to start the season.
I went to bed that night with the biggest smile on my face.
All the hard work and sacrifices I made were worth getting my hand raised.
Gino Giacoio
Capturing the People and Culture of the Greatest Sport on Earth.
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