5 Woes Of Wrestling Momma

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May 14, 2011 by David Gillaspie

Heritage Starts Here 

My Mother vs Coach Abraham, I'm reffing.

This scene plays out all across the Unites States: 

Every season of every sport brings out the best in all the parents and coaches, you know this because it’s what you heard in the parent/coach meeting.

If you’ve never been to a parent/coach meeting, think of a parent/teacher meeting for science class and teacher’s got a scalpel.

Maybe little Johnny has been acting up…with a knife?

That’s the lethal idea behind the moment captured above. 

Coach Abraham specialized in Greco-Roman thumpers in his wrestling room.  It wasn’t his fault, it’s just better way to fly.

Not everyone likes to throw, so he also, like a good coach, installs as many takedowns as you can absorb.  Maybe it’s one, maybe it’s more.

He’s got my Mom standing crow while he demonstrates his low single on parent/teacher/coach night.

“Circle right to get the right leg stepping toward you.  Give it a tap fake for a pull-back and slide in on the weight bearing left leg.”

At least that’s how it was supposed to happen. 

The woman has three sons and a daughter.  She busted inter-state car theft rings while she ran a DMV office. 

Wrestling?  No problem. 

See my Mom’s left hand?  Instead of blocking, she gripped his shirt for a judo snap-down and rolled him with her purse.

My Dad tried to warn him.

“Too close, you’re too close.”

I tried to warn him.

“Watch the purse, The Purse.” 

She snaps people down all day.


What you see is a perfect example of the wrestling family. 

That’s a picture of unity you can’t always get, no matter how much you want it. 

It all starts with momma, especially the mommas who blaze the seasonal trail for the new moms.

They have an unspoken list of rules to not break:

Woe to the momma who can’t watch her little boy get smashed, because she’ll have just as hard a time watching him win.

Woe to the momma who prays for the end of wrestling season and sweaty clothes all the time, because it’s the seasoning of life.

Woe to the momma who reads a book during a tournament, because there’s enough drama.

Woe to the momma who forgets the oranges and sandwiches on Team Mom day, because it’s your turn.

Woe to the momma who turns up her nose to any sport her kid chooses, unless it’s a snow sport.

It all starts with momma, or it’ll end with momma.  Say it with me:

“If Momma Ain’t Happy, Ain’t Nobody Happy”

That means your momma, my momma, and your friend’s momma’s momma. 

Remember Dan Gable’s words, “Wrestling Mom’s aren’t for every sport, but they should be.”

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