by Bruce Bocian
They roll out the mats and cover the floor,
Wrestling mats door to door.
They put down some tape and up goes a table,
this is wrestling, the sport of Dan Gable.
In come the kids, some with a chance, others a dream,
Following behind a parent ready to scream.
They weigh-in, they warm-up and get ready to go,
All the while, they're eyeing their foe.
They pace and they wonder; some people think they're insane,
But to them it's about pride, despite all the pain.
They step on the mat and shake their opponent's hand,
Mom's trying to decide, "Do I sit or do I stand?"
The ref blows the whistle, the wrestlers engage,
Their muscles are tense, their hearts filled with rage.
Two for this, one for that, they keep an eye on the score,
The seconds tick off, they know they're at war.
They sweat and some bleed, their spirit is put to the test,
There's no looking back, they must give it their best.
Some will have smiles, for most there'll be tears,
But all are champions, just for facing their fears.
What now faces them is the painful reality we all know,
this is wrestling and only one gets to go.
As the ref raises their hand, they now know their fate,
There will be another tomorrow; they're going to State!