Like a lot of sports fans, I noticed–almost in passing–that Brandon High won a state championship in wrestling recently in Lakeland. Again. For the 14th time in a row. It had seven individual champions. Five of them were undefeated for the year.
Brandon is a national wrestling power that once won 459 matches in a row–the longest such streak of any high school sport. ESPN even did a documentary on “The Streak” a few years ago.
It would be a gross understatement to say that coach Russ Cozart’s program is synonymous with success. It would, in fact, be bigger news had the Eagles, who have won 25 state championships under Cozart, not won another state title in Lakeland.
But here’s what really got my attention. It was a quote of Cozart’s. One that transcended success, even the uncanny, unprecedented version achieved at Brandon High. One that transcended clichés, of which athletics is riddled. He simply noted that “Confidence is part of the sport, but being cocky isn’t.”
How refreshing, I thought. How old school, I reflected. How necessary, I acknowledged.
Maybe there was a time when what Cozart said didn’t have to be said–but now is not that time.
We live in an era where athletes–and it often begins before high school–are routinely lionized and too often encouraged to “play with a chip on their shoulder” or to play with “swagger.” As if they were traits worth emulating.
Mostly we’re talking basketball and football, but it bleeds into other sports as well. Too often coaches, fans and parents have become enablers of all that’s done to pervert exuberance and passion.
At the collegiate–let alone the professional–level, network cameras reinforce every contrived, boorish gesture. “In your face” trash talk? Check. “Look at me” chest-thumping, pointing and strutting? Check. “Celebration” choreography? Check. Cheap lounge-act ambience? Check.
It’s all embedded into the game, which sometimes seems incidental to the “show.”
Muhammad Ali, who was ahead of his time when it came to yappy self-promotion, once said that it wasn’t bragging “if you can back it up.” No, that’s actually what bragging is. If you can’t back it up, it’s lying.
But winning with class doesn’t have to be an oxymoron.
Russ Cozart’s Brandon Eagles are the standard for excellence on the mat, where success has begotten generational success. And where success also begets confidence, which speaks for itself. If you’re good, as in really, really good, your talent will say it all. Why render it annoyingly redundant?
That’s the part of the Cozart legacy that’s easily overlooked because of his program’s incredible record. Year after year, his wrestlers dominate. They know they’re good–so good that they have no need for “swag” or shoulder “chips.” The proof is on the mat, in the trophy case and in the scholarship offers.
They exude confidence–borne of talent, hard work and discipline–not cockiness. It comes with the program: a winning aptitude, yes, an offending attitude, no.
It can be done. Year after year.