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Discussion Topic: An article to put perspective on this week
Todd Vennis added to this discussion on February 20, 2008
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Came accross this article while browsing on my free period.
http://www.ocregister.com/news/wrestling-cullen-fitzgibbons-1981612-los-alamitos
Let me say, unequivocably I would trade the experiences of coaching the state champion wrestler I was fortunate enough to coach as a head coach and the three team state championships I coached as an assistant with Coach Torres' experience in this article.
I hope the handful of my peers, who think of only this weekend and next as the only thing meaningful in this sport see this.
Wrestler takes a shot at the impossible
by Tom Berg
This is his last shot – the final match of his high school career.
Cullen Fitzgibbons walks to the wrestling mat circle in his singlet and headgear, expecting victory – like he always does. Yet in four years with the Los Alamitos High School wrestling team, he's never won.
His record this year is 0-6. In four years, he's gone 0-27. He never even made varsity, but still – he believes. He's the first to arrive at practice, five days a week. He adheres to a strict, unwavering diet – including three juices, two yogurts and a bag of Cheerios every lunch. He even has his own fan club.
Who does the wrestling team carry atop their shoulders into the annual pep rally? Cullen. Who do the cheerleaders rush to hug first? Cullen. Who do the fans cheer loudest for – even in defeat? Cullen.
His last shot at victory awaits.
In the first round, opponent Cameron Harrison, of arch-rival Esperanza High School, scores a takedown, but Cullen scores a reversal: 2-2.
Deep in the second round, Cullen scores a takedown to tie Harrison 6-6, then Harrison scores an escape to edge ahead 7-6 with one round to go.
In four years, Cullen has never outscored an opponent. He's never enjoyed the warm glow of victory. Never felt the referee raise his arm following a match. But in the next 60 seconds, he has a shot at the impossible.
Cullen Fitzgibbons, the improbable wrestler with Down syndrome, might actually win.
A PATTERN EMERGES
Cullen, now 18, was born with a hole in his heart that required open-heart surgery before his first birthday.
“I remember him screaming – horrible screaming – for hours,” his mom, Dana Fitzgibbons, says of the pre-surgery blood work. “It was heart-wrenching.”
From there, it got worse. During surgery, a ring of cartilage around Cullen's trachea swelled. It took 10 days before doctors could remove the air tube.
Then there were the developmental disabilities caused by Down syndrome. He didn't speak like other kids. Didn't look like other kids. Didn't learn like them.
Each year brought a new battle with school officials as parents Billy and Dana fought to mainstream Cullen into regular classrooms.
First the school tried to place him in a class with severely disabled children. Then they tried to bounce him outside their district. Then they took him in, but merely gave him coloring books to occupy his time.
It took all of Dana's skills as an attorney and parent to keep Cullen in classes with able-bodied children.
“We went head-to-head with the principal,” says dad Billy Fitzgibbons. “And we held our ground.”
Early on, however, a pattern emerged. In second grade, the class bully became Cullen's protector. The bully's thankful mom said Cullen brought out something she'd rarely seen in her son: compassion.
Cullen's inclusion was having an effect on classmates, but not teachers. In eighth grade, Dana discovered, they were still asking her son to trace his name and connect the dots in class.
“It was not a fun year,” she says. “There was so much tension, we basically threw up our hands.”
When it came time to enroll Cullen in high school, she says, “We were dreading it.”
Then they met Karen Maffett.
PATTY-CAKE
They were ready to duke it out with Maffett, the special-needs coordinator at Los Alamitos High School, but she was already on their side. She suggested they put Cullen on the wrestling team to make friends.
“I've got a young man with Down syndrome who'd like to be on your team,” she told coach Kenny Torres.
“That's fine,” Torres said.
“He has trouble talking.”
“That's fine.”
Like that, Cullen was on the team, and Billy was assistant coach. Turns out, Billy was a Top 10 Division I college wrestler who aspired to the U.S. Olympic team for eight years.
Before Cullen was born, Billy dreamed his son might carry on his Olympic dream. Now Billy dreamed his son might find acceptance in a world that, so far, hadn't wanted him.
The first sign came during their first tournament as 30 wrestlers piled off the bus.
“I see this great big kid, a rough kid, and he's holding hands with Cullen,” Billy says. “I thought, ‘That's a first.'”
Over the season, Billy would see his best wrestlers in the stands with Cullen playing patty-cake. Or giving him piggyback rides. Or hugs. Cullen's innocence made it OK. And his nature made you root for him.
“Whenever Cullen was wrestling, everyone stopped and watched,” says former teammate Marvin Feliciano. “And whether we were home or away, he'd get standing ovations – from both teams.”
It wasn't always roses, however. People stepped over the line. A teammate would mess with Cullen, getting him to say things he didn't understand. Or fans would tease the kid who grunted in the stands between matches and hugged other boys.
More than once, team captain Christian Moshier, 18, a senior, has pulled younger teammates aside to say, “What you're doing isn't funny.”
Once a big guy from another school got in Cullen's face for touching him.
Moshier and another wrestler ran up:
“Are you kidding?” they said. “He was trying to be nice.”
Adds Moshier: “I feel bad for anybody who'd ever do anything to him because the whole wrestling team would be on them.”
UNCLE CULLEN
Sarah Newmarker felt a twinge of nerves as she stepped from the stretch limo last month.
“I was afraid what people might say,” says Newmarker, 15, who'd invited Cullen to the Winter Formal dance, at the urging of his sister, Kelsey. “Were they looking at me holding his hand?”
Cullen, dressed in a black tux and tie, immediately began dancing by himself – so she joined him. Cullen spontaneously hugged her – so she hugged him back.
She got a few strange looks from friends, but his joy was contagious. And the experience changed her.
“He has a heart and he's a person,” she says. “I just think of him as a friend.”
You hear that a lot around here. Last summer, Cullen's former school aide invited him to be the catcher on his able-bodied softball team. They lost every game, says Bob Lund, 24, but Cullen led the team in batting.
In his first at-bat, opponents threw him out by 25 feet. Then even the most ardent jocks started throwing the ball over the first baseman's head.
“I know Cullen will never leave my life,” Lund says. “If I have kids, they're going to have Uncle Cullen, because he's such a singular soul.”
‘A REALLY GOOD TIME'
It was Esperanza that first gave Cullen a medal two years ago.
The tournament was packed. Cullen got so excited, he ran past the medal stand, past the coaches, past all the people to the back of the gym.
“We had to call him back,” Billy Fitzgibbons says. “When he held up his hands, it was the loudest cheer that night – by far.”
This year, Lakewood High School gave Cullen a medal. He wore it to church the next day. And to school the day after.
“You feel like a little kid around him,” says Moshier, who takes Cullen bowling and to the movies. “It's that innocent sense of a really good time.”
Because of his innocence, Cullen's matches aren't like everyone else's. They can't be. Coaches ask his opponents to take it easy on him. Some do. Some don't.
THE LAST MATCH
Here in the final round of Cullen's final high school match, Cameron Harrison is in the lead. He is on top of Cullen, but not pinning him. Cullen nearly scores an escape and the crowd cheers. Harrison brings him back down and the crowd moans: “Ohhh.” Cullen nearly escapes again and Harrison stops him again, drawing another “Ohhh.”
A single point will tie the match. Two will win it – will give Cullen a taste of what almost every young boy feels at some point in his young life: a simple victory.
The sound inside the gym will tell the answer. As the seconds tick down, however, there is nothing to cheer. Time runs out. The ref raises Harrison's arm as victor.
Some say you could see disappointment on Cullen's face briefly as his record fell to 0-28.
His dad, on the sidelines, raised his hands and shouted, “Yeah!” as dads do.
Cullen started to walk away, then something stopped him – a ripple at first that grew into a familiar sound: applause.
As he turned, the crowd grew louder. Then Cullen did what no ref had ever done for him. He raised his own arms, in his own victory celebration, and beamed.
“When he did that,” says coach Torres, “they started roaring!”
These are the moments that can change a life.
Billy Fitzgibbons says he used to be a wrestling snob. He never had time for the guys who weren't winning. It took Cullen to teach him the pure joy of competing.
“I cried when I found out he had Down syndrome,” Billy says. “I didn't see what the future was going to hold. And now the future, it's nothing I could've imagined. It's so sweet.”
All it took was a son who never won a match.
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Discussion Topic: An article to put perspective on this week
Mark Palumbo added to this discussion on February 20, 2008
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Wrestling is much more than just winning. Some times just stepping out there is a win.
Some one should pass along his info to Jude Roth. Maybe get this young man into a situation where he can compete on a more even playing field and maybe get his hand raise by the ref. I think he might really like it. It sounds like he would have many supporters willing to sponser a trip.
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Discussion Topic: An article to put perspective on this week
John Mackesy added to this discussion on February 20, 2008
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Thanks for the post Todd. It is a heart-warming story. We all need a story like this every once in a while to remind us of what is important in life and what sports are all about.
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Discussion Topic: An article to put perspective on this week
Maggie Lamantia added to this discussion on February 20, 2008
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Quote from John Mackesy's post:
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"Thanks for the post Todd. It is a heart-warming story. We all need a story like this every once in a while to remind us of what is important in life and what sports are all about."
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I completely agree. With this end of February hoo-ha making everyone stressed about their big weekend at the Schott, we need to remember those less fortunate that somehow bring out the lighter-hearted side of us.
it's good to hear you guys reply to liking this. You don't have to be tough all the time. =) nice to see.
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