The Match Beyond the Mat: A Letter to Fletcher

Dear Fletcher,

I want to write this down for you — not just so you’ll remember what you did, but so that someday, when life throws you even bigger challenges, you’ll remember what you’re capable of.

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This past wrestling season was tough. Really tough.

I remember how excited you were when you first signed up for those three tournaments. I was excited too, because you have an amazing double leg!  You were eager, motivated, and ready to take on a new season. But as the days got closer, something shifted. The night before each tournament, your mind would start racing. You’d get quiet. Worried. Then Saturday morning would come, and there were tears — real, heavy ones. The kind that told me you were scared.

And Fletcher, I’ll be honest — I didn’t always know how to help you.

I tried jokes. I tried pep talks. I tried being gentle, then firm. None of it seemed to work. You’d laugh for a moment, but the nerves came rushing back in. I got frustrated sometimes — not with you, but with no being able to help you. I didn’t know how to take your fear away. And when you’d go sit by Mom you'd get even more emotional.  After the first wrestling tournament, we made a rule, no going to sit by mom.  It was just as hard for her as it was for you.  She could see you struggling & it hurt her to watch you struggle, but knew it was best if you didn’t sit by her.

But here’s the thing I’m most proud of: you showed up anyway, each week. 

Every. Single. Time.

You stepped on that mat, even with a heart full of fear, your gut was wrenching, and legs that probably felt like jelly. You didn’t quit. You honored your commitment. You did the hard thing — even when it didn’t feel good.

And that, son, is what life is going to be like sometimes. We’ll sign up for things that feel exciting at first, but when it gets real — when it gets hard — the fear sets in. You won’t always feel brave. You’ll want to run. You’ll wish for an easy way out.

But you’ll also learn that you’re stronger than your fear.

By the third tournament, you had changed. You walked out with more confidence. You wrestled a kid who had pinned you two weeks earlier — and this time, you gave him a match. You were winning in the third period. The other kid’s dad even said, “Wow, in two weeks, that’s a huge improvement.”

You didn’t just grow as a wrestler. You grew as a person.

You learned something that some people don’t learn until much later in life — if ever:Fear doesn’t mean stop. It means you’re about to do something important.

Doing hard things builds you. You get better with practice. And learning how to manage your emotions, especially when you’re scared or overwhelmed, is part of becoming a strong man.

You may not see it now, but those mornings of tears and nerves are part of your foundation. You’ll look back someday and realize: you didn’t quit. And that will give you the strength to keep going the next time something feels too big to handle.

So Fletcher, this is just the beginning. You’re going to face more hard things in life — some on the mat, most off of it. But I believe in you. And I’ll always be in your corner, even if you can’t hear me cheering.

You did something incredibly hard, and you came out stronger.

Philippians 4:13 (NIV):

"I can do all this through him who gives me strength."

I love you,

Dad