Prologue

This is why you have worked so hard for the past ten years. That was the only thought in my head as I made the walk from the holding area towards the mat for my championship final. My opponent was shadowing my every move in the opposite corner. Once we stripped off our warm-ups, I heard echoing through the U.S. Cellular Center, “Now wrestling for the 141-pound national title, Michael Bonora, Rhode Island and Jason Adams, Augsburg.”

The adrenaline running through my body fueled a nervous excitement, electrifying me even more than the buzz of the packed arena. I was the top seed, undefeated in Division III, wrestling for a school from the smallest state in the nation. My gold singlet shone brightly with the words “Rhode Island College” plastered in maroon across the back.

My opponent was an unseeded sophomore on a run with the tournament’s Most Outstanding Wrestler written all over it. If he bested me, the award was sure to be his. The only thing not surprising about his dash to the finals was the powerhouse team he wrestled for. Our paths to the national finals were utterly different, but our roads converged on March 8, 2008.

I would be lying if I said my dream was always to be a national champion. And yet, there I was, in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, with a referee about to signal the start of the final match of my college wrestling career. Seven minutes separated me from my destiny. Then I heard the whistle, my mind went blank, and a calm came over me, just as it had hundreds of times before. I was at home for the last time.