— Matty Rix understood the feelings of shared triumphs and shared pain that come with being a high school wrestler. Today a community that extends beyond Rix's hometown of South Berwick and the hallways of Marshwood High knows the feeling of shared sorrow.
Rix, just 19 years old, died of a possible drug overdose sometime late Tuesday night or early Wednesday morning. He was apparently alone in his room in a Dover, N.H., boarding house. He had a job and plans for his future. He was going to join the army.
The news is a kick in the gut. Who in wrestling didn't know the Rix name? Nearly 35 years ago, brothers Matt and Mark were among the best in Maine, wrestling for Marshwood. In 1982, Matt Rix became the young coach who rebuilt a program that would contend for state championships year after year.
Four years ago, Deanna Rix knocked down the gender barriers to come so close to winning the state title at 130 pounds. She lost by one point in the second overtime of her championship bout with Shane Leadbetter of Sanford. Matt Rix coached his daughter that night while Matty Rix cheered his sister.
Matty would have his own success, winning more than 100 bouts in his high school career. Matt, with his gentle smile and Matty, with his broad grin, were familiar faces at amateur tournaments up and down the Eastern Seaboard.
''Oh, no,'' said Jerry Perkins after hearing that Matty Rix was dead. Perkins coached champions at Rumford High and then Mountain Valley from 1967 to 1988. ''This is difficult to comprehend. I've always believed if you can make it through the sacrifices and the discipline and the courage it takes to walk onto the mat alone to face your opponent, it makes the rest of life easier.
''I also know that's not true for everybody.''
Wrestlers and their coaches form a brotherhood that outsiders don't always fully understand. Wrestlers deny themselves the pizza, egg rolls, and whoopie pies of life. They work and sweat off excess pounds, hone muscles and mind, then prepare to meet an opponent alone.
They pray that exhaustion doesn't overtake them, leaving them emotionally and mentally naked for all to see. They'll pay the price other teens won't, simply to feel that utter satisfaction of having their hand raised in victory.
Rookie or four-year letterwinner, they know what it's like to be on top of their world or to face their worst fears. They may not have met Matty Rix, but he wasn't a stranger.
For the men who coach, the sorrow is doubled. Matt Rix is a friend.
''Whenever he saw me, he'd give me a hug,'' said Perkins. ''He'd say, 'Hi, dad.' We both have the same (receeding) hairline. Matt is such a straight shooter.''
Matt Rix was achingly honest in an interview with the Foster's Daily Democrat newspaper in New Hampshire when asked if Matty used drugs. ''I'm sure he did. He tried to keep things away from me. Being the coach, it was taboo.''
Typically, wrestling coaches get on the mat with their wrestlers for one-on-one, hands-on instruction. It's the only way to teach.
''It's such an individual sport,'' said Tom Wells, who started the wrestling program at Cony High in Augusta before moving on to the mat to become a respected official. Like Matty Rix, Wells' son, Max, a champion hurdler at Maranacook, graduated from high school last spring.
''(Wrestling) is so demanding and all-encompassing. It takes over your life. It's one reason I got out (of coaching.) I can't imagine living in a house with a wrestler.''
Bob Eon can imagine. Until this winter, he coached sons Josh, a freshman at the University of Southern Maine, and Joey, a Massabesic senior. Both were state champs.
''When you wrestle and your father is the coach, you can't leave it behind when you get home,'' said Bob Eon. ''I was there to see what they ate, how much sleep they got, if they were doing their homework, everything.''
Dennis Walch remembers how his stomach churned when he coached his son, Brian, at Westbrook High in the early 1990s. The three two-minute periods of an individual bout can be that intense. ''Brian had no pressure from me, absolutely none. He was more gung-ho about what he put into his body and how he wrestled than I was.''
That didn't diminish Walch's pride in watching his son win. It was the pride Matt Rix shared with Matty.
Bob Eon has told his sons, for all their success they're not invincible. ''The one's you're going to hurt are the ones you love.''
The hurt is shared.
Staff Writer Steve Solloway can be contacted at 791-6412 or at:
ssolloway@pressherald.com