When this began
I had nothing to say
Linkin Park – “Somewhere I belong”

     The gym smelled like sweat and regret, two scents that Tyler knew far too well, even though it had been years since he last stood here. The last time he really remembered was watching the Sabers raise their first state championship banner. 

     Now, he lingered in the doorway, staring at the empty mat where he had once wrestled through blood, exhaustion, and anger. The banners hanging from the ceiling served as a quiet reminder of a time when the program was at its peak. 

     But now? 

     Now the Riverstone wrestling team was silent, gutted by scandal. 

     Hazing. 

     The word still hit like a gut punch every time Tyler thought about it. Riverstone wrestling had been his salvation, a place where Coach Beau’s gruff voice cut through the chaos of his teenage rebellion and drove him to become tougher, sharper, and more disciplined. His bond with Johnny and Robby had formed during those grueling practices, where they carried each other through Beau’s relentless demands. Beau’s methods often walked a fine line between tough love and brutality. Tyler carried the scars as proof. 

     Now, that edge had tipped, cutting deep into the heart of the program. 

     “They need someone to rebuild this,” Principal Owens had said to Tyler just a week ago, his tone as worn as the championship banners that hung above the mat. “They need someone who understands what this program was at its best and what it can be again.” 

     Tyler didn’t know if he was the person for the job. 

     He stared at his phone, hoping for a response to the text he’d sent Robby an hour ago: 

     I NEED TO TALK. 

     It was straightforward, but it made him feel vulnerable in a way he hated. Asking for help had never come easily. Coach Beau had always warned him about that. “You don’t wrestle alone. You need to learn that, or it’ll break you.” 

     Tyler’s thoughts turned to Bryce, his son, who had led the charge to expose the hazing tactics pushed by the captains under the coaching staff ’s watch. The younger wrestlers, the newbies, never stood a chance. Bryce and his close friends hadn’t seen what was happening at first, but when they did, they couldn’t turn a blind eye.

     Tyler had always been proud of that about Bryce—his unwillingness to look away when something was wrong. It was a trait that had only grown stronger over the years, maybe shaped by the divorce. Bryce had been young when he and Michelle split, but old enough to feel the shit. The back-and-forth, the tension, the quiet understanding that some things just don’t work out no matter how much you want them to. Maybe that was why Bryce had become so determined to stand his ground when something needed fixing—because he knew what it felt like when things fell apart. 

     Bryce’s decision had come at a cost. 

     The suspension of the entire team had cut short his junior season. Now, Bryce was saying he wouldn’t wrestle his senior year. 

     The silence of the gym pressed in around Tyler as his eyes driing to a faded banner from his junior year. It had been Beau’s final season and would be the catalyst of a string of Riverstone titles built off the legend of the Bennett Brothers. 

     Tyler had been part of that story, too. He’d sacrificed for the team during both his junior and senior seasons, dropping weight to fill a critical spot and then bulking up the next summer to push Johnny Bennett toward an undefeated New England championship. Back then, Tyler had believed 4 those sacrifices might redeem everyone he’d let down in his earlier years. 

     Now, they just felt like moments that had slipped away. 

     His phone buzzed, breaking the silence. Robby was calling. 

     “Let me save you some time. I already know what’s going on,” Robby said, his voice sharp but warm. 

     Tyler didn’t respond immediately, still grappling with the weight of the situation. “They want me to take over the program,” he finally said. 

     “Yeah, no shit. I called Principal Owens,” Robby replied. “And Beau did too. We both told them you were the one to fix this. It’s time, Tyler.” 

     “You did what?” Tyler’s voice tightened. 

     “Someone’s gotta keep you out of the darkness,” Robby said, steady but firm. “You think I forgot what you went through sophomore year? This isn’t just about the team. It’s about you. If Bryce doesn’t go back, it’s going to eat at you, and you know it. You’ve both had a year in the dark. It’s time for you to light the way for him.” 

     Tyler rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t even know if I can do this. You remember what it was like, Beau, the team, me screwing up.” 

     “You think Beau didn’t screw up?” Robby countered. “You’re just remembering the good parts, not the time he threw his clipboard across the gym because Johnny wasn’t being serious enough.” 

     Tyler could still see the moment clearly. Beau had been riding Johnny hard that day, just one of those “bad Beau” mood days. They were drilling different situations, and Johnny, unbothered, was singing away as he rolled around. Beau snapped and barked at him to knock off the singing. 

     Without missing a beat, Johnny switched to quoting a line from Vision Quest, the cult classic wrestling movie. 

     “It ain't the six minutes...it's what happens in that six minutes,” Johnny called out, in his best impersonation of one of the most underappreciated scenes in movie history. 

     The fact that the quote was Coach Beau’s favorite from the movie didn’t matter. Beau’s clipboard flew across the mat, narrowly missing Johnny’s head. 

     Unfazed, Johnny grinned. Robby sprang to his feet, retrieved the clipboard, and handed it back to Beau with a cheeky grin. “So, Coach, would you prefer a Spaceballs quote?” 

     Only Robby could have gotten away with that. 

     “Bryce is going to find his way,” Robby said, pulling Tyler back to the present. “But he needs to see you lead first. Remember what Beau used to say, ‘You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to be committed to giving it your all.’ That’s the start, Tyler.”

     Tyler’s eyes shifted to the banner again. “I don’t want to screw this up,” he admitted. 

     “That’s why I called Owens,” Robby said. “Those kids don’t need perfection. They need someone who’s committed to them. And so does Bryce. If not you, then who? Think about what Beau always said about Snake. Whenever Beau wanted to practice, Snake was there, he always showed up, always ready to push him, to help him get better. He taught Beau what it meant to be supported. 

     “Beau gave up his summer nights running open mats for any area wrestler who wanted to show up, because Snake did the same for him. That’s how it works. Someone helps you, and then it’s your turn to throw the rope back to help someone else along. Now it’s your turn, Tyler.” 

     Tyler ended the call, slipping the phone back into his pocket. He wasn’t sure he was the person these kids needed. 

     But when he thought about Bryce, he saw the same hunger he’d once had, the hunger to belong, and to matter. 

This world could be a son of a bitch
Well, look through my eyes
Shaboozey – “Last of My Kind”

     The Wednesday before the first practice of the season wasn’t just another meeting, it was Coach Beau’s infamous “your ass is mine” meeting, designed to set the tone for the season. Under Beau, it had become a ritual, a line drawn in the sand. For the veterans, it was a blunt reminder of the expectations awaiting them. For the younger wrestlers, it was a trial by fire.

     For Tyler, sitting in the back row flanked by Robby and Johnny, it was something else entirely: a moment of reckoning. The two had dragged him here, determined not to let him back out of asking for a second chance, from a coach who made it clear on day one that he didn’t waste time on anyone who wasn’t committed to his team.

     Coach Beau stood firm at the front of the gym, his stocky 5’8” frame radiating quiet authority. Broad shoulders filled out his Riverstone Wrestling jacket, and the whistle around his neck seemed more like a badge of rank than a coaching tool. At just 160 pounds, he carried himself with the presence of someone far larger, his sharp, no-nonsense expression daring anyone to challenge his authority. At 26, he wasn’t much older than the seniors seated before him, but his commanding stance left no doubt about who was in charge.

“Alright, listen up!” Beau’s voice cut through the quiet murmur of conversations. The younger wrestlers froze mid-whisper, and the veterans straightened instinctively. “You’ve got five days,” Beau began, pacing like a caged lion. “Five days to decide if you’re ready to take this seriously. Monday isn’t just the start of practice; it’s the start of your commitment to this team.”

Tyler slouched in the back row, arms crossed, feigning indifference. He’d been through this twice before, but this time it felt different. This time, the stakes were higher. Beau’s eyes swept the room as he continued, “Listen up. These first two weeks are about one thing: proving you belong. Don’t show up Monday whining about being out of shape. You had all summer. You had all Fall. If you’re not ready now, you’re wasting my time.”