My son, Erich, the wrestler

Erich is a wrestler. Wrestling is a big sport in Northwest Minnesota. Forty years ago, as I was growing up in Minneapolis, wrestling was a sport other kids participated in; the kids that couldn't make the basketball team, didn't have the skills for baseball, and didn't play football. I didn't wrestle, never considered it. I played baseball and football.

But Erich loves wrestling; he's six.

It was his mother's idea. She was a cheerleader for the wrestling squad in Arthur, North Dakota. Her brother went to the North Dakota state championship tournament. She is a fan. So when the notice came out that they were starting wresting practice for kids as young as kindergarten, she signed him up. I thought, "OK, what can it hurt. It will keep him busy."

Erich loves it.

Last weekend there was a meet in Thief River Falls, Minnesota, and kids came from some distance to participate. They came from Cavalier, North Dakota; Fergus Falls, Minnesota, and of course Warren, Minnesota which we call home.

There were at least forty kindergarten kids registered. Eric got fourth place in his quad, fourth out of four. He was thrilled. He did well, actually. Just didn't win any matches. During one match the father of a boy he was wrestling sat next to me and commented, "I don't think I have ever seen two boys having more fun."

He was right. Both boys carried smiles as big as neon beer signs.

Erich always smiles when he wrestles. He hunkers down in his wrestling posture, trying to look mean, but his big mooned smile gives him away. He isn't angry. He's having a blast.

Each match contains three one minute periods. At six years old the boys are just beginning to learn their moves. Mostly, it's trying to get the opponent on the floor and keeping him there, or trying to get off the floor and escape.

Each year the boys and girls from Oakley, MN (known as the Mustangs) compete against the Warren-Alvarado-Oslo Ponies for the domination of the heard. That's what the trophy says anyway. Erich had a tough match against a boy from Oakley. He was on the bottom and the boy above him pulled hard against his arm, straining his shoulder, trying to make him roll on his back. Erich wouldn't budge. It hurt to watch. He didn't give up. The period ended and Erich cried. He was in pain. The coach asked if he wanted to end the match or if he wanted to wrestle his final period.

Erich wanted to wrestle. He was smiling through his tears.

The third period was a stand off. Erich lost the match, as I said, and once it ended his coach gave him a high five and Erich came and sat in my lap and we cuddled. He is six years old after all. I asked how he felt, and he said, "fine".

"Did it hurt?"

"It did, but not so much now"

"Are you ok?"

"I'm fine."

"I'm proud of you, Erich. You did well. You tried hard."

"I know," he said.

He's such a guy.

I am starting to like wrestling.

Erich loves it.