The proud tradition of LCI wrestling was on display at the school’s gymnasium Saturday. But it was not the painted words on the south and east walls of the gym which highlighted the wrestling team’s accomplishments.
It was a couple of friends beating each other up on the mats.
LCI’s Joren Jurkowski pinned LCI’s Jamal Krisko to win gold in the 68 kilogram category, and both came out a little bloody despite the quick match. They smiled and shook hands like all competitors do, but as most friends do, they hung out with each other afterward. See, Jurkowski is a seasoned veteran of the Rams wrestling team while Krisko was dragged to practice by a friend of his.
The friend? Jurkowski, of course.
“I don’t mind, I kind of knew he’d win,” smiled Krisko after the match. “He’s got a lot of experience and he’s good. I’ve only been doing this for a year.”
This is only the second tournament for Krisko, who injured his shoulder and sat out a couple of events. But he was introduced to the sport by Jurkowski, and expressed regret at not getting involved earlier.
“I think I’m pretty good for just doing it this year, I think if I had started a few years ago, maybe I’d beat him.”
Jurkowski just smiled at that. He’s attracting interest from post-secondary schools and is a likely candidate to win a provincial title for LCI. that would put him up on the wall with the other champions in LCI’s history.
Part of that history has coached Jurkowski. Riley Ellis-Toddington and Pat Selk both wrestled together under the tutelage of longtime coach Brian Donaldson. At the time, Donaldson was thought of as the father of wrestling in Lethbridge. But as his former students take over the program, it looks more like he’s the grandfather.
Nevertheless, Ellis-Toddington said it’s Donaldson’s impact which keeps him involved. A few years ago, Donaldson asked the Wilson Middle School teacher if he’d like to run the program alongside longtime volunteers like Al and Vern Hansen.
Ellis-Toddington’s brothers also wrestled for Donaldson, and a couple of them are immortalized on the walls of LCI. Riley was also a member of the University of Lethbridge Pronghorns men’s soccer team. He said once Donaldson asked, he knew his answer.
“How do you say no to the guy?” sighed Ellis-Toddginton. “I mean, he was at practice four days a week for how many years? I mean, it’s the kind of guy you know, it’s time to pay it back, right?”
Donaldson, renowned for his one-liners and off-kilter sense of humour, connected with a variety of types in his days as a wrestling coach. Ellis-Toddington was himself a fresh-faced kid, but others were a little harder on the edges. It didn’t matter, because Donaldson got the best out of all of them.
And the lessons went beyond shoots and throws to the time, effort and motivation of a coach.
“I think he was always there for the kids,” said Ellis Toddington. “You look at me and Pat, and you wouldn’t think a guy like Donaldson and us would necessarily be close — not at all — but definitely, there was something . . .  you knew how much time and effort he was putting in and you wanted to do the same.”
Now, Selk finds himself rolling around on the mats, teaching some of the same moves he learned from Donaldson. And Ellis-Toddington, who splits practices with LCI teacher Ashley Zaremba, finds that the volume of work required is far more than he ever thought.
“Even as an adult, I think you take it for granted, how much work you need to get something like this going,” he said. “I mean, it takes a lot of people to bring a tournament like this together, never mind running four practices a week, getting to tournaments on the road.
“Maybe I would’ve said no if I’d known.”
That last bit was a joke. But Ellis-Toddington said that as a teacher, it’s part of his job, while volunteers like Selk do it for another reason entirely.
“Donaldson, probably,” laughed Ellis-Toddington. “Pat’s got a family, he’s got better things to do with his time but he’s been all over this for a few years now. But he is a great coach — a great coach — and is doing it for the right reasons.
“He’s just another one of the Donaldson kids, I guess.”
That means, eventually, Donaldson will be the great-grandfather of Rams wrestling.
“You think about it, and I’ll probably be doing this until my wife leaves me and I burn out,” joked Ellis-Toddington, who has a young family at home. “No, I have some people helping me. I split practices with Ashley, and we split the tournaments, too. It really it a huge time commitment, I don’t know how they did it..”
And then, the newspaper can do a story about the influence of teachers like Ellis-Toddington and the influence of a coach like Selk.
But who will the next generation of volunteers be?
“I love it,” said Krisko as blood dripped off his scarred nose and as the silver medal swung around his neck. “Great coaches, great teammates. I really wish I could have been in wrestling for a few more years. It’s a good experience, all of it.
“I’ve learned so much.”