Inside Aaron Hadenfeldt’s office, stuck to the cabinet with wrestling mat tape, there’s a reminder. A haunting reminder. It’s a picture of his now junior wrestler Lucas Feuerbach, cut out from this same newspaper from February. Feuerbach is on his knees, any sense of joy extinguished as his opponent celebrates behind him. He had just lost. In the state championship.
“That really sucked,” Feuerbach said. “He was hugging his coaches and I was just sitting there watching.”
At first, Hadenfeldt hated the photo. For the head coach of Solon boys wrestling, it felt like salt in the wound. Why publish an image that captured Feuerbach at his lowest? But once the sting faded, he understood. And he grew to appreciate it.
“That’s a lonely feeling,” Hadenfeldt said of the picture. “Lucas doesn’t want that feeling, and we as coaches don’t either. Now it’s motivating.”
Less than three weeks ago, Feuerbach felt it again. This time on the football field. Solon fell to Nevada in the IHSAA state semifinals at the UNI-Dome, a gut punch that several of Solon’s wrestlers also lived through. And now, those same athletes are back in the room, shaking off one season’s ending as another one begins. That’s not easy. But if the picture in Hadenfeldt’s office serves any purpose, in all its bittersweet glory, it’s a reason to get back up.
Feuerbach isn’t alone in this transition. If the oversized quads don’t give the football players away, the bleached hair will.
“We mentioned it as a joke in our first week of the football season,” Feuerbach said, chuckling. “We always saw other teams doing it and figured we’d give it a shot.”
As weeks pass, the color fades. A subtle hint that those gridiron memories are behind them. For now though, beads of sweat drip from those frosted peaks of Feuerbach and his wrestling partner, Tripp Johnson, during practices. A senior linebacker for Solon football, Johnson is wrestling on varsity for the first time this year, adapting to challenges the new sport brings.
“Wrestling conditioning is way different,” Johnson said.
So is the amount of bloodshed.
During practice, paper towels run red, piling up in the trash bins. If not for the whirring of exercise fan bikes nearby, the groaning and splatter of sweat and blood could make some go queasy. But the football players, who make up three-quarters of the wrestling team, thrive in it.
“They pride themselves in toughness, and it translates over from the football field, 100%,” Hadenfeldt said. “When the 3rd period in wrestling comes, we say ‘that’s mine.’ That’s where we widen the gap.”
After practice is over, the black mat glistens from cleaning solution. Six white state wrestling banners hang from the ceiling. The room, muggy as ever, smells of rubber and lingering sweat. Outside in the hallway, cool air hits the bare skin of Johnson. He and Hadenfeldt are discussing plans for upcoming meets. During the football season, linebackers like Tripp are encouraged to gain weight. Now, Johnson has to shed it.
“Don’t eat until you’re full,” an assistant coach tells Johnson.
“Satisfied is different than full,” Hadenfeldt adds.
The door to Hadenfeldt’s office is cracked open, revealing the small newspaper clipping still taped to the cabinet. The edges of it are uneven, the tape job far from clean. But it’ll be there, daily, reminding them all that the journey isn’t always fun. And that’s okay.
“The chips will always fall where they are,” Hadenfeldt said. “But if we can lift each other up and think about what my teammate needs before what myself needs, that’s all I can ask for.”