About

Wrestlers have a kinship forged by the hard work we put in day after day, the intense physical workouts, the cotton mouth, the mental stress, the food restrictions, the drilling – the constant, relentless drilling. We put in the work, and we sure as hell didn't do it for the glamour. The crowds at our meets were mainly parents, a few younger siblings, maybe one friend. Everyone else was at the basketball game. We didn’t care – in fact, it was a source of pride. We wrestled for us, and for the people who cared about us.

Every wrestling-team roster is filled with young men and women who are misfits and outsiders, kids looking for a second chance, kids who weren't tall enough for basketball or big enough for football, kids who didn’t fit into any mold that the people around them considered normal. None of that mattered in the wrestling room. All that mattered was showing up, working harder than you’ve ever worked in your life, and showing up again the next day. Repeat. Your reward might be a spot on the podium or it might be getting your face smashed into the mat for two matches and sent to the locker room early. Wrestling sucks, which is exactly why it's the greatest.

I was at a bar recently, and I mentioned to an acquaintance that I like to go to the NCAA wrestling championships every year. The guy remarked, “You like to watch a bunch of guys rolling around in tights, huh?” I don’t get mad at idiot comments like that, just like I didn’t care that the stands were mostly empty when we wrestled back in the day. Wrestling, in the end, comes down to one simple thing: two people in the center of the mat figuring out who put in the work. It's one of the most pure and purifying experiences you'll ever have. This guy smirking about men in tights never put in the work, but if you’re reading this, I’ll bet you did.

I haven't had my face smashed into a mat in decades, but I'm a RASLR still – always will be. I wear my cauliflower ear on the inside, in my head and in my heart. I started RASLR apparel so I can wear it on the outside too, so I can share my hard-won pride with other wrestlers, so we can have our own brand to wear to the bar, to the game, to the golf course, to matches... wherever the hell we go. So we can recognize each other and acknowledge what we have in common, what we've earned by putting in the work.

My wrestling career ended when I graduated high school, but the lessons I learned in that wrestling room showed me that there's nothing I can’t handle. Our coaches used to say, "Once you’ve wrestled, everything else is easy." It's a nice sentiment, but it's not exactly true. We all face difficulties throughout our lives – setbacks and tragedies, heartbreaks, fuckups, bad luck, asshole bosses. Life isn't easy for anyone. But having wrestled, having tested yourself one-on-one against formidable opponents every day for years – that softens the blows that might cripple other people. Life's not easy for anyone, but for a RASLR, for someone who's been through what we've been through, the pain is a little easier to overcome. We know what it means to hurt and to keep going anyway. We're RASLRs, and that means something.

 

Take it easy,

Brandon Emerson
RASLR Founder

 

Me, on the bottom, getting my face smashed into the mat in 1992.