My son has joined the wrestling team

My Son Has Joined The Wrestling Team:

"My son has joined the wrestling team, I don't know what to say,
I fear that he will stink like sweat, after practice every day.
I wish my son would play a game, or shoot a bouncing ball,
Instead he joins the wrestling team, which has no class at all.

My son is watching all he eats, he eats the foods he hates,
He knows what foods are good for him, he has to cut some weight.
He works to learn reversals, and take downs that are planned,
Hand control and when to shoot, and how to pin his man.

His uniform's a singlet, and a thing he calls headgear,
That's all there is, no pads, no fuss, or fancy stuff to wear.
He talks about his wrestle offs, and how to take men down,
He shoots, he pins, he's ready, for any kid in town.

Before I have a chance to cheer, they twist and turn so fast,
My son is eating rubber, with his face upon the mat.
The buzzer sounds and I'm relieved, to see it's at an end,
But no, he hasn't finished yet, he takes the stance again.

They shouldn't make him do it, I think he's had enough,
Why does he grovel on his knees, to prove that he is tough.
The referee is watching, each an every move he makes,
My son must know the rules, or learn from his mistakes.

He can not cheat or hurt his man, or dare to throw a fit,
The ref will give away a point, without discussing it.
With every muscle straining, he tries his best to win,
Perseverance is the key, if he wants to make that pin.

Adversity can't keep him down, they roll and bridge and turn,
My son has found persistence, a lesson he must learn.
His companion's endurance, as he strives until the end,
And if he has the guts, determination is his friend.

It takes a lot of courage, and a certain kind of grit,
Self-reliance, spunk and luck, are all a part of it.
Each wrestler must give his all, no matter what the cost,
His gain will be tenacity, even if he’s lost.

And when the match is over, the wrestlers will shake hands,
Good sportsmanship’s expected, from every wrestling man.
My son has joined the wrestling team, I’m proud to tell you why,
He’s learned the things that make a man, and make a mother cry"

I had the poem fixed to the wall in the practice room. The kids simply loved it, though Morales thought it was a bit long. Asked me who had written it, I said I tried unsuccesfully to contact the guys at the site, got no word from them. Figueira said the things in the poem couldn't have been better said. He especially loved the array of the rhymes. Morales and Zangrandi asked for copies, while Galhardo and Panotti already wanted to copy it from the wall. I talked them out of it and promised to bring copies for everyone. They still stood long in front of the poem, reading it carefully, while they waited for Rodrigo. The latter came from the coffee and read the poem too when asked to by the kids. Ended up asking for a copy too. My photocopier will have to work for sure.

Figueira was uneasy. Not that it's novelty to me to see him uneasy, but he seemed especially concerned about me. He looked at me strangely, as if trying to guess my intentions towards him. If only I had any besides making him do what he had to by nature. Panotti was getting closer and closer to him I could see today. And he is getting closer and closer to Panotti. As if there had been no walls, no gaps between the two of them all the time. Panotti especially admired his modesty, that was no false modesty, it was from the core, from the very heart of the fighter. The authencity of Figueira in every gesture and attitude, willing to be nobody else but Felipe Mariano Figueira be it on the mat, on the streets, at the mall. The two are even laughing together, something unimaginable when I started with them.

Nearly at the end of the practice, my attention was attracted to some soft noise coming from outside Corporal. The sound of voices. I went to the entrance hall and heard Mr. Costa talking with someone. I only saw his figure going away, didn't manage to see his face in the dusk. He seemed to have dismissed the person, in a slightly rude way. I hurried back to the practice room lest he saw me trying to listen. The kids took an eternity to figure me out, rushing in like that.

There but for the grace of God | No quarter (reprise)

Radio Universal: The Making Of A Thousand Gods.