How long will we go, how long will it be,

an hour or two or will it be three?

Does that really matter, should we really care?

Hell, we could be here 'til we lose all our hair.

We're all stretched out now, and warm-ups are done.

And you say to yourself, "Now the hell's begun."

An hour goes by, and Joe (McFarland) gives us a break,

Time for a drink and to feel yourself ache.

The rinse is over, and it's time to go live,

You reach down inside and search for more drive.

Get in groups of three, or grab a guy for a grind,

one minute goes, coach will keep time.

Down on the mat, or up on your feet,

You brawl as do lions over freshly killed meat.

Your face it gets battered and tattered and torn,

Your ears swell up and you wish you weren't born.

Then live wrestling ends, but practice does not,

and you want to tell Kevin (trainer) that it hurts a real lot.

But as Coach Bahr says, "That's wimpy stuff,"

And you know you can finish if you stay mentally tough.

Practice is over now and tomorrow's the meet,

pretty soon you'll shake hands and start on your feet.

From there it's a battle, a goal to achieve,

two men will enter, but only one man will leave.

Yeah, you'll be nervous, but fear you will not,

If you wrestle your best, you'll come out on top.

Regulation ends, and overtime's past,

the winner now will be the one to outlast.

Get out from the bottom, hold him on top,

but for that 30 seconds, don't ever dare stop.

The final buzzer sounds, the match is through,

but adrenaline took over and the ref has to stop you.

But even he can't make you quit,

is like training an angry grizzly to learn how to sit.

Finally you go to the center and your hand gets raised,

but your bloodied-up face can't see the crowd's craze.

And your rubber-scuffed knees are shaking in pain,

and your sore-stricken shoulders are crying in vain.

And the toes on your feet are chafe-ed and sore,

And your whole body's scarred with nail scratches galore.

But at the very moment when most people would cry,

You extend a crooked finger and point it to the sky.

At that very moment, unknown to a boy,

The man you've become starts jumping for joy.

"Good job," Way to be," "Nice match" they all say,

And you stand there victorious, hero of the day.

Yes, you gave it your all and you never went soft,

And now you see all the hard work paying off.

The meet has ended, the two teams exchange sides,

But only yours walks away with their heads held high.

Yes, you've proven your talent, exploited your gift,

and now tomorrow you'll have a great morning lift.

There's something to be said now, that's unknown to all,

something only we few and proud can be called