Whenever my good friend Paul asks, “what do you have going on the weekend of….?”, I can generally be sure that he’s asking because he needs me to dust off my athletic training bag and help him provide sports medicine coverage for some sort of athletic event. Or, he wants to meet up for a stogie and Guinness at the cigar bar downtown, or, more often than not, both.

There are not a lot of people that I would willingly work 40 hours over three days with, and by “not a lot of people”, I pretty much mean just Paul. By “work” I mostly mean sitting and talking nonsense until an injured athlete is in need of our services. Or so they think.

Generally, the nonsense outnumbers the need for our services by quite a large margin, but when we are needed, we are needed “now”, and needed to perform as medical professionals in situations that range from the mundane to the emergency. Mostly the mundane. So it goes.

We do understand that the mundane to us, the minor aches, pains, strains, or mystical maladies presented to us are anything but mundane to the athlete experiencing them. Thus, they are all treated with the same level of professional care and understanding.

It’s the level of mocking buffoonery after they’ve departed that varies dependent upon our assessment of the seriousness of the injury, or claim of injury. Yes, we are certified athletic trainers, medical professionals dedicated to attending to the health and wellbeing of athletes, and we do that very well.

“But”, yes I know they say that a “but” basically erases the good that was stated prior to it, but I believe in this case it is not only justified, but necessary for general maintenance of one’s sanity.

Yes, we are medical professionals dedicated to attending to the health and wellbeing of athletes, and yes, I believe Paul and I do this very well, but…but we are only human. Immature humans that share half a brain, but human just the same.

Humans that in order to maintain some semblance of sanity in the midst of a three-day wrestling tournament with no endpoint in sight must resort to juvenile jocularity. Not as a last resort, but a first and foremost resort.

I blame it on the fluorescent lighting, poor music selection by the announcer, and being in constant close proximity to the passion of some of the coaches. By “passion” I mean sheer unbridled looniness.

I respect them. I don’t understand them, but I do respect them, and it is obvious that there is a massive amount of love shared between the coaches and their wrestlers.

This year’s South Dakota State Wrestling Tournament was also historical in that it was the first year that there was a girl’s division. There always has to be a first, and these young ladies' will always have that honor.

As the father of a strong daughter, I found myself overcome with tremendous pride for each of these girls for putting themselves out there and pursuing something they are passionate about. An accomplishment that will positively trickle into many areas of their lives in the years to come.

Passion, professionalism, unbridled looniness, and juvenile jocularity…all in a day’s work.