“I don’t want to wrestle”

The phrase surprised me, but I also understood. On Friday at noon was the final wrestling meet of the year for my 7 year old Jacob. The club has made no bones about this one being THE big deal - the whole year long. I took the day off work, and paid the $20 for a floor pass so that I could be there for him and help coach him. Deana had arranged things too, and paid to get in to support him.
As a back story, Jacob had been excited for wrestling for years. When we finally allowed him to begin wrestling last year, he showed great promise, placing fifth in this same tournament. The last few meets we had been to this year, however, had been hard occasions for Jacob. He had not won the majority of his matches - in fact, on a couple of occasions, he not won a single match. I had entered him in a more difficult division than last year to help him get stiffer competition. It had been hard though, perhaps even damaging to him - especially his confidence.
That’s why I understood. I’d been there before. There was no time for nerves now, however, this was just minutes before his match. We’d arrived at the tournament a little early, watched matches, talked technique, and now we’d just finished our warm up. His objection, stated as meekly as it was, Belied the firmness of his resolve. As I coaxed and encouraged him, however, it escalated into a vociferous refusal by the time he was supposed to take the mat. We were given time, but it was of no avail, and just like that our tournament was over. Then I said it. That dagger of a phrase that I should have had the wisdom to just swallow, “There was only one way you could have disappointed me today, and this was it!”
The words stung as they crossed my lips, yet I reasoned - maybe he needed to hear it. After all, I was in a way reaffirming that winning or losing wasn’t the important outcome here, just doing his best - like we’d always emphasized. As the tournament moved forward and we gathered our stuff and prepared to leave, Jacob’s shouted opposition changed. It was still loud and angry, but now it was that he wanted to wrestle - not leave. I informed him that his opportunity had now passed - they had moved on without him. As he persisted, I told him he could go check with the scores table. Sensing that that might be more than he could muster on his own, I offered to go with him. When he resisted, we made our way to the car. As we drove home, Jacob’s anger returned to focus on me - “you wouldn’t let me wrestle!”
So we went back - just in time, it turns out, to find that he had forfeited his second match and was now truly out of the tournament. They had apparently dropped him down into the consolation bracket instead of withdrawing him the first time. After I verified this with the scores table, I turned to him and said, “sorry buddy, you missed your chance.” Then he broke my heart.
He looked up at me with those great big brown eyes visibly holding back tears, his hand gripping mine tightly and said, “it’s okay dad.”
His response was so different from our communications the last hour - both in tenor and in content. It was clear, what he really wanted had nothing to do with wrestling really, sure he had felt the pressure and been afraid, but more than that - he just wanted to please me.
The unfortunate timing and presentation of these things had cost us money, time, and some embarrassment in the arena, but ultimately he had done nothing to be disappointed about. He had not willfully sinned. With me it was a different story though - I had spoken in haste and wounded my precious boy. I am so grateful for repentance!