KANSAS CITY, Mo. — Danny Apgar is a high school wrestling coach with hesitations about that existence.
He has a sales job, which gives him enough comfort to talk openly while others who agree with him remain anonymous. He adores his sport and feels responsibility to his kids, which gives him enough reservations that he asks half-jokingly — at least, I think he's half-joking — to please leave out anything that might get him fired.
He is in an impossible spot, isn't the only one, and he's willing to talk about it.
High school sports are happening, COVID-19 pandemic be damned. Case numbers are surging, filling hospital beds and spurring tighter public restrictions. Still, high school sports go on, with little to no testing, even in wrestling — where close contact is literally the point.
We've talked about this before, and generally the conversation focuses on providing opportunities for kids, and some semblance of structure. That's great for most, but we don't hear as often from those on the inside, looking around and wondering why the show goes on.
We don't hear from people like Apgar.
He's coached this year's senior class of Adrian (Mo.) High wrestlers since they were in seventh grade. He is desperate to help them achieve their dreams, especially one who's lost in the state semifinals three years in a row. We'll come back to that later.
Apgar also has his 70-year-old father living with him. He's relatively healthy, but also high-risk. Apgar's heart has been all over the place, then.
He's felt angry. Confused. Trapped.
"The core of the internal conflict with it is the answer from the bird's eye view is different than the answer from the ground level view," he said.
What he means is that from the outside, with no emotion attached, the question he asks is whether he should participate in a season that he believes will create more virus spread.
That answer is clear: this is nuts.
But then there's another view, this one closer to the action. The one with emotional investment. Not just in helping these athletes achieve, but in supporting their growth as young men. That's the whole point of coaching high school sports, so from that point of view the question he asks is if the right thing to do is quit on these kids and not be with them through the toughest season of their lives.
Another clear answer: he has to do this.
"That's the toughest part," he said. Those two answers are very different depending on which way you're viewing the situation."
Again: trapped.
The Missouri State High School Activities Association has implemented new rules. Some of them, like limiting the size of tournaments and breaking the state meet into different locations make sense. Others, like banning pre- and post-match handshakes, are more like COVID theater.
MSHSAA has a board meeting scheduled for Friday, and the agenda includes discussion on wrestling and basketball, though pushing those sports to spring is not being seriously discussed.
Jason West, MSHSAA communications director, said many options have been considered but schools already dealing with spring sports, graduations, proms, concerts and other activities could be overwhelmed if wrestling and basketball were added to the schedule.
In other words, high school wrestling is like everything else in the world: proceeding imperfectly, with virus disruptions a when and not an if.
Apgar chooses not to talk much about his hesitations. Adrian's head coach — Apgar was the head coach until he took the sales job — was the football team's offensive coordinator. So he's already comfortable mitigating risks when possible but pushing forward with competition.
Adrian, like a lot of schools in the area, is now fully virtual in junior high and school. The concerns Apgar hears from parents are about whether the season will be completed, and not about the virus. He senses no hesitation from the athletes.
Apgar's concern is mostly about his dad, who told him not to worry about it, even the worst outcome. Apgar thinks his dad means it, but also just trying to put his mind at ease.
"I've thought, like, 'If you do it, you're probably going to get corona,' " Apgar said. "And it's like, well, I guess I'm willing to do that for the kids. Because to me, that's less painful than telling those four or five seniors I've been with forever that I'm quitting on them."
The questions provide no possible satisfactory answer. Apgar is like a lot of us, somewhere in that middle ground between COVID deniers and those who won't leave their houses. He wears a mask, but he also goes out to eat, and is in a weekly bowling league.
Wrestling is a significantly bigger risk than grabbing a burger, but we all make different decisions based on different priorities, right?
The other night might've been the first time Apgar knew he made the right decision. This was Tuesday, after Adrian's first meet of the season. The precautions seemed reasonable. Attendance was limited to four people per wrestler, masks required.
Anyway, remember the kid who's finished third three years in a row? His name is Cole Ritter, and this is his last chance at a state championship. On Tuesday, he beat one of last year's finalists. That's a huge moment. High school sports are about moments, and that one will be remembered.
That's part of why Apgar is there, coaching, despite it all. His decision doesn't have to be anyone else's. Many coaches are working with unreserved enthusiasm, and some are gone.
This is Apgar's story, and it's one that's almost certainly more common than is being discussed: well-intentioned hesitation, overcome by the reason he got into coaching in the first place.
"That's the one that really tips the scales," he said. "You realize that nothing is going to be put on the other side to even that out. To be with him and those kids through the year, that's going to beat all the other stuff."
