Blog Post 4 - Who is coach red? part 1
This week’s blog post will be a bit autobiographical. So if you were ever curious about my background and where I came from, this is the post for you. Just for the sake of time, and interest, I’ll cherrypick details from my life rather than going through every intricate aspect.
Red in his Youth
They say the doctor who delivered me never fully recovered his eyesight.
I was born and raised in Fontana, California though both my mom and dad are from New York. Fairly normal childhood I would say. Both parents worked hard for me and my brother, but ended up divorced and remarrying. What was cool was that both of my parents married awesome people, so no “evil step-parent” nonsense for me. In total, I have four siblings (3 brothers and 1 sister), and we all have followed very different paths.
Growing up, I didn’t have any serious interest in sports. I played T-Ball and remember crying in Karate class. In my 8th grade year I played flag football and I really enjoyed it. I continued playing football freshman year of high school. Luckily for me, my linebacker coach was also the head wrestling coach. Once the season ended, he sent me to the wrestling room. How different would life be if that never happened!?
My older brother and I were often at home by ourselves for a good amount of time. The daily beatings delivered by my older brother likely contributed to me becoming a martial artist later in life. We lived with our mom and would see our dad every other weekend and the occasional weeknight out with him as well. I wouldn’t say I had any trauma related to my parents' divorce. I was quite young when they separated and didn’t have the direct experience that my older brother did. Being carted back and forth between the two homes was just something I thought was a normal thing for everyone. Given the divorce rate, I’m probably not too far off.
I luckily did not struggle or go wanting in my childhood. Like I said, my parents worked hard to provide for us, and I’m grateful for that. I believe my lack of struggle in my early life also led me to find that struggle in martial arts later on. It is my belief that we need challenge in our lives in order to become our best selves.
High School
I ended up transferring to a different high school when I moved in with my dad during sophomore year (that’s another story for another time). My dad lived in southern Corona, but the high school was in the neighboring city of Lake Elsinore. Touring the campus, I ran into the head wrestling coach, who helped me find the football practice area. But, more importantly, showed me where to find the wrestling room.
On my very first day, I met my wife, who was desperately trying to get the attention of our Chemistry teacher so I would take the open seat at her table. A crush became a friendship and ultimately much more, still going strong almost 20 years later.
Yes, I once had hair.
I finished my sophomore football season, and just as the previous year, I headed straight to wrestling practice. I learned that at this high school, that was outside the norm. Apparently there was some strange culture in place about athletes being shared, so when I went to the wrestling team after football, that was seen as taboo. I never returned to football and just stuck to wrestling (probably saved myself a few brain cells by doing that).
To be clear, I was not the best wrestler. I was never super athletic and injuries did plague me, particularly my knees. I never had a serious injury and didn’t get a chance to learn about the various bumps and bruises a combat sports athlete will accumulate over the course of their career. My junior year, I had knee surgery that sidelined me just before a big important dual meet with a league rival. My inability to compete in that dual very well could have cost us a shot at the league championship. Memories like this one haunt me to this day.
My senior year was supposed to be my “breakout year.” Since I was not able to compete in the post season, my coach told me no one yet knew of me, so I was going to be our school’s dark horse. I did well, beat some good guys, got my butt whipped, and ended up being the number one seed in my regional tournament. Another memory that slithers its way back to my consciousness is the following. I was to face a guy in the semi-finals that I had beaten twice already in the regular season. To this day, I still could not tell you what happened in that match. I must have been overconfident, cocky, and ended up losing by decision. I had beat this kid badly both times that we faced each other before. But I was looking past him, already assuming I’d be in the finals of the tournament. I use this story to explain to my students to never overlook someone, to never underestimate any opponent ever. Everyone is beatable. A perfect example of this is the recent defeat of Gable Steveson to Wyatt Hendrickson in the 2025 NCAA finals. Steveson was a gold medalist and the defending NCAA champion. Gable had walked through every opponent the whole year, never being challenged. But Wyatt took it to him, beating him with grit and determination. Classic David and Goliath story.
My high school wrestling season ended at the Southern Section Masters tournament, the qualifying event for the CA State tournament. For a wrestler to place in the CA State tournament, let alone qualify for it from the Southern Section in particular, is such a tremendous feat. There are about 1600 high schools in CA, and countless wrestlers at each weight class. The State tournament features the top 40 in each of the 14 weight classes, and only 8 medalists take their place on the podium, with only 1 being crowned the champion.
Fresh off a match beating a league rival, with my youngest brother Ronin.
Like many wrestlers, I finished my career unsatisfied. I wanted to continue wrestling in college. But my young, naive self only wanted to wrestle for a Division 1 school. What arrogance from someone who couldn’t qualify for the state tournament! I had offers from D2 and D3 schools that would have covered part of or even all of my tuition. I wouldn’t even entertain the idea of attending these schools. All of these schools were quite far, most being on the east coast. Not only did I not want to travel that far, but I wanted to take a chance and walk on to a D1 school. I decided on Arizona State University.
College Years
I lived in Tempe, Arizona for my freshman year of college. My declared major was Psychology and I was considering going the med-school route. That quickly changed at registration when I saw all of the class requirements for that pathway. I stayed a Psych major for a bit before changing to Education and ultimately settling on History. My plan was to become a teacher, inspired by the many amazing educators and coaches in my life.
I went out for the wrestling team, showing up for practices led by then head coach Shawn Charles. I even participated in the famous ASU Wrestling Hell Week (you can see my pale self in parts of this highlight video). I loved the grind of this room, everyone there was a badass, and I was humbled on a daily basis.
Something that I failed to account for when making my college choice was the social scene. I learned later on that ASU has a reputation for being a party school. Now, I’m positive that all colleges across the US have a party scene, but ASU was essentially one giant party. I’m not a saint and will never claim to be one, but I never indulged in the party-going scene. I went to a select few parties in high school and I can’t say I enjoyed a single one. But my hardheadedness and tunnel vision kept me pushing for the dream of being a D1 wrestler. Unfortunately my vision wasn’t strong enough to keep me focused. Growing up, the lore of college was imprinted on me early and often. College was the only way I would find success and there was no other option. Once I became a college student, I just didn’t get it. This is what I’ve been pushed towards and had worked so hard for? Why? And I’m paying how much? I felt severely let down, borderline betrayed, and became depressed. This depression crept into my athletic performance and goals.
Leaving Arizona seemed like the only viable option, so I applied to schools back home, and didn’t even care if they had a wrestling team or not. UC Riverside accepted my transfer application, and even took more of my AP credits from high school, so I would have more college credits on day one. I finished my degree at UCR, although reluctantly. I was never able to shake my disdain for the university experience and I’m still bitter about it to this day.
Part Two will be posted next week! Thank you!