was almost twice his weight and in fourth grade. Powell stood his ground. His parents divorced when he was a teenager, and he says it was wrestling that got him through it.
I was hoping wrestling would do the same for my sons.
After winning the Illinois high school Class AA state championship at 171 pounds in 1994 as a senior at Oak Park, Powell went on to be an All-American at Indiana University. Following graduateschool, he began coaching and teaching at his alma mater. His father volunteered alongside him for every tournament, victory, and major team event.
He hosted team members to live with him and his fiancée (later his wife), Elizabeth, if the wrestlers were having a tough time at home and needed help with homework or staying out of trouble. Even after he was married, he spent as much time as ever on the team; he had barbecues for the boys in his backyard and arranged for fundraisers like the June car wash or a community trash cleanup to get them better equipment or fund a trip. He set up tutors for team members if they were doing poorly in school.
“My job doesn’t have boundaries,” Powell said. “With these kids, the more you invest emotionally, the more you see is there,” he said.
On New Year’s Eve each year, he made sure one wrestling family hosted a party for all the wrestlers so no one could get in trouble and attend a party with alcohol or drugs—which would result in a dismissal from the team. Weldon’s teammates started a Facebook group their senior year, WWMPD, standing for What Would Mike Powell Do. During season he brought the team to Bikram Yoga classes on Sundays. He taught them how to breathe deeply to relax. He talked about the environment.
“Next year we’ll be sure to have environment-friendly ink on the team shirts,” he said.
Powell followed up and followed through, more than you would think possible for a coach who met these teenagers for the first time when they walked into his wrestling room the first day of practice. He talked to them like a friend, not a youth minister. He spoke their language, cursed sometimes, didn’t hold back, didn’t preach. On the Huskies wrestling website was the tagline, “In Powell we trust.” He was almost too good to be true.
“He invests his everything in us,” one wrestler told me.
Powell brought the team from not being ranked in the state to being team state champions, undefeated for the season in 2009. The team was awarded a trophy with all the wrestlers’ names engraved on the front. It was the first team championship for the school in morethan a dozen years for any sport, and the first ever for wrestling. They came in second in 2012 as a team. In 2014, the high school team was ranked first in the state. In January 2015, the team was ranked number one in the country.
Before the team drove to the individual state championships in 2009 at the University of Illinois, the boys got their money together to buy Powell cigars to celebrate the victories they knew would be theirs. They collected enough money from each wrestler to buy a cigar for everyone on the twenty-one-man roster plus the coaches. Brendan drove to buy the cigars, bringing with him his glass change jar filled with pennies, nickels, and quarters. They were still little boys, now doing big man things.
“Call Powell and tell him,” I said when Weldon told me the news that he won a prestigious scholarship to study abroad the summer after his college freshman year.
“I called him first,” he said.
Weldon even walked like Powell; the wrestler’s walk, spine straight, shoulders pressed deliberately back, head held high, arms poised just slightly away from his sides as if he is wearing an invisible holster— High Noon meets the Olympics. He walked with motion generated from the hips, not bowlegged exactly but with his legs pushed outward from the knees and his upper body held still— Riverdance on Muscle Milk. A lean, taut confidence.
You could spot the young
I was hoping wrestling would do the same for my sons.
After winning the Illinois high school Class AA state championship at 171 pounds in 1994 as a senior at Oak Park, Powell went on to be an All-American at Indiana University. Following graduateschool, he began coaching and teaching at his alma mater. His father volunteered alongside him for every tournament, victory, and major team event.
He hosted team members to live with him and his fiancée (later his wife), Elizabeth, if the wrestlers were having a tough time at home and needed help with homework or staying out of trouble. Even after he was married, he spent as much time as ever on the team; he had barbecues for the boys in his backyard and arranged for fundraisers like the June car wash or a community trash cleanup to get them better equipment or fund a trip. He set up tutors for team members if they were doing poorly in school.
“My job doesn’t have boundaries,” Powell said. “With these kids, the more you invest emotionally, the more you see is there,” he said.
On New Year’s Eve each year, he made sure one wrestling family hosted a party for all the wrestlers so no one could get in trouble and attend a party with alcohol or drugs—which would result in a dismissal from the team. Weldon’s teammates started a Facebook group their senior year, WWMPD, standing for What Would Mike Powell Do. During season he brought the team to Bikram Yoga classes on Sundays. He taught them how to breathe deeply to relax. He talked about the environment.
“Next year we’ll be sure to have environment-friendly ink on the team shirts,” he said.
Powell followed up and followed through, more than you would think possible for a coach who met these teenagers for the first time when they walked into his wrestling room the first day of practice. He talked to them like a friend, not a youth minister. He spoke their language, cursed sometimes, didn’t hold back, didn’t preach. On the Huskies wrestling website was the tagline, “In Powell we trust.” He was almost too good to be true.
“He invests his everything in us,” one wrestler told me.
Powell brought the team from not being ranked in the state to being team state champions, undefeated for the season in 2009. The team was awarded a trophy with all the wrestlers’ names engraved on the front. It was the first team championship for the school in morethan a dozen years for any sport, and the first ever for wrestling. They came in second in 2012 as a team. In 2014, the high school team was ranked first in the state. In January 2015, the team was ranked number one in the country.
Before the team drove to the individual state championships in 2009 at the University of Illinois, the boys got their money together to buy Powell cigars to celebrate the victories they knew would be theirs. They collected enough money from each wrestler to buy a cigar for everyone on the twenty-one-man roster plus the coaches. Brendan drove to buy the cigars, bringing with him his glass change jar filled with pennies, nickels, and quarters. They were still little boys, now doing big man things.
“Call Powell and tell him,” I said when Weldon told me the news that he won a prestigious scholarship to study abroad the summer after his college freshman year.
“I called him first,” he said.
Weldon even walked like Powell; the wrestler’s walk, spine straight, shoulders pressed deliberately back, head held high, arms poised just slightly away from his sides as if he is wearing an invisible holster— High Noon meets the Olympics. He walked with motion generated from the hips, not bowlegged exactly but with his legs pushed outward from the knees and his upper body held still— Riverdance on Muscle Milk. A lean, taut confidence.
You could spot the young
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