Reflections of an Aspiring Headlock Hero
I’m excited to kick off my 25th season with the Bears wrestling program. I love this time of year—when the wind picks up, the maple leaves fall, and I can feel the anticipation in our boys as the season approaches. The weeks leading up to that first practice always seem to race by as the days get shorter and colder. It’s almost heavy-coat weather again. It’s wrestling season in “The Valley.”
After two and a half decades of coaching, mentoring, teaching, living, and loving in this community, I’ve reached a few personal conclusions:
I wouldn’t want to work, coach, or raise my family anywhere else.
My longtime mentor recently asked if I would ever move back “home.” Last month I was inducted into the Fife High School Alumni Hall of Fame during homecoming. It was a special night shared with my wife, children, my mother, siblings, and my high school history teacher and wrestling coach. Coach Brown sat with me as we watched Friday night lights in the same valley where I once competed as a Trojan—against Bears.
Back then, our rivalry with Tahoma was fierce. We dressed in camo and yelled, “We’re going bear hunting, boys!” And like in life and sports—sometimes you eat the bear, and sometimes the bear eats you.
Sitting next to my old coach at the school I once represented, he asked again if I’d come home to finish my career. I didn’t hesitate. I told him I already am home. I love, live, work, and serve in Maple Valley—and always will.
Teaching, coaching, mentoring, building, and investing in the children of this community is not just my profession; it is my passion and one of the greatest blessings of my life. Recently, while sitting with one of my seniors after school, he asked how my day was. When I told him it had been great, he asked—like a sharp kid would—“What made it so good, Coach?”
I told him the truth. I had spent the day visiting classrooms, watching outstanding teaching and learning, having energizing conversations, and finishing with a preseason wrestling meeting full of excited kids ready to get to work. “I love my job,” I told him. “I am so blessed.” He nodded and quoted one of my father’s favorite Mark Twain lines: “Find a job you enjoy doing, and you will never have to work a day in your life.” Most days at Tahoma don’t feel like work.
Our process—The Tahoma Way—is tested and true.
In 25 years, I’ve coached thousands of wrestlers. Not all walked away with medals or titles, but those who came with open minds and open hearts left the program better young men. I couldn’t tell you how many state champions or placers we’ve had, but I can tell you this: our wrestlers have grown up to become loving husbands and fathers, business owners, mechanics, teachers, nurses, anesthesiologists, pilots, SEALs, soldiers, doctors, and leaders of men.
Wrestling is a hard sport. Wrestling under the Bear banner—while meeting our expectations—is even harder. But it’s worth it. Many of our boys won’t fully understand the impact until they’re adults. And nothing makes me prouder than when they come back or reach out and share how this program helped shape them.
Not long ago, I got a call from Captain Lorenson. He wanted to talk about starting a youth wrestling club in Texas, where he and his family are stationed. Tom was one of the first state placers I coached. When he came in as a freshman—about 170 pounds—he was like a big Great Dane puppy: smart, eager, and still growing into himself. I told him that by his senior year he’d be a monster if he stuck with it. Wrestling upper weights as a freshman is no easy transition—but he did the work.
By senior year, he was that monster—on both the football field and the wrestling mat. More importantly, he was a great kid and a leader. Like all good leaders, he made mistakes. After placing third at a tournament, he walked off the podium and threw his medal in the trash in frustration. I let him know—loudly—why that wasn’t the Tahoma way. Maybe I crossed a line, but he knew it came from love. I needed him to understand what his teammates saw in him, what gratitude looks like, and how leaders respond to adversity.
He heard me then, and he hears me now. And seeing the father, husband, officer, and leader he’s become fills my heart with pride. Leaders do hard things. Good leaders do hard things with gratitude.
My wrestling boots are packed. Day-one practice plans are ready. I can’t wait to launch the 2025–2026 Tahoma season—supporting our boys as they chase their dreams and learn to do hard things, the Tahoma Way.
Go Bears!
Coach Feist