Monson: This Mom deserves her dues
Debbie Sanderson is the backbone of a wrestling family, played key role in sons’ success
By Gordon Monson
Tribune Columnist
Funny, how stories about mothers nearly never begin and end with information solely about them, rather they almost always commence and conclude with the deeds of their progeny.
This one is no different.
When her third son, Cael, won his Olympic gold medal in Athens last summer, nobody in attendance, or on the planet, was more keenly interested than Debbie Sanderson. Her flesh-and-blood was down on the mat, opening up a can of whoop— on a Korean finalist in freestyle wrestling, and she, in a way only mothers know, was connected to the proceedings.
Cael, like his three brothers, had done a lot of winning in his day. In fact, he was the most successful collegiate wrestler in NCAA history, rolling up a 159-0 record at Iowa State. His accomplishments and acclaim already had won him ESPYs and opened the door to the Oval Office, where he grappled and pawed around with the president. He had made various world teams and was emerging as one of the sport’s all-time greats. Now, he was on the doorstep of Olympic glory.
But nobody else in the gym that day had wiped the boy’s nose, had driven him to football and baseball and soccer and swim practices. Nobody had taught him to say please and thank you, or had rescued him from his older brothers’ fury when they determined he deserved some punishment, or had talked to him about mundane matters of life on countless errand runs down a canyon road from the family’s home in Heber to Provo or Salt Lake City. Nobody else had given birth to the man.
And there he was, ferociously doing what he did better than any other human being, at least those who weighed 184 pounds, conquering the world. He had beaten an Iranian in overtime in the quarterfinals and a Cuban, who had previously defeated him twice, in the semis. The Olympic final was a breeze.
In the moment when the flag went up and the national anthem was played, Debbie Sanderson was emotional.
“I sat back and thought, ‘Well, he accomplished his dream,’ ” she says. “And that’s a powerful thing. In a first-grade book, Cael wrote down three goals for when he grew up. The words were all sloppy and misspelled, but they were: 1) Be a good person; 2) Get good grades; 3) Be an Olympic champion.
“So, yeah, I was proud of him. The way he competed and the way he conducted himself. He satisfied his dream. “
Debbie Sanderson knew nothing about wrestling before she met and married her husband Steve. He wrestled at Pleasant Grove High School, where she attended, and at Brigham Young in the late 1970s. When he graduated, the couple moved to Ontario, Ore., beginning a teaching and coaching career. Steve, at that time, had no clue that the best wrestling students he would ever coach would be his own sons.
The family moved from Oregon to Farmington and Bountiful and Orem, and finally, in 1984, to Heber, where Steve took a teaching and coaching job at Wasatch High School. The Sandersons raised their boys in Heber, and that’s where they still reside. When their last son, Cyler, leaves for school and to wrestle at Iowa State this fall, the nest, ironically a testosterone-filled bright pink house in the hills northeast of town, will be vacated.
And it will be time for Debbie to concentrate on other things, such as her job at a local elementary school, helping young children with conditions like Down syndrome, autism, and other learning challenges. “It’s great to see those kids do something they’ve never done before, even if it’s just saying a word right, or walking for the first time, “she says. “It’s fun. It’s rewarding. “
Debbie and Steve, now a vice principal at a middle school in Heber, might even take a trip to Hawaii or go on a cruise. They’ve traveled a lot over the years, but mostly to places where wrestling meets were held.
For many years, they drove to junior competitions all over the country, after their sons Cody, Cole, Cael and Cyler took to the sport. When the three oldest all won their divisions at a prestigious junior tournament – the Western Regional – at the ages of 12, 10, and 9, Sports Illustrated for Kids published a story about the boys and their burgeoning talents.
That’s when the pressure first emerged. It went into full bloom from there.
“If two of the kids won and one lost, it was hard to handle, “Debbie says. “They probably compared themselves to each other, but it seemed they were more upset when their brother lost than when they did. That’s unusual for such a competitive sport. They were very supportive. “
Even though they ended up different shapes and sizes, for a long time the three oldest were about the same weight. Fortunately for the Sandersons, USA Wrestling had a “brother rule, “stipulating that if siblings made it to the final of a meet in a single classification, they would be named co-champions, and call it good.
Later, in high school, in the privacy of the wrestling room at Wasatch, Steve Sanderson sometimes had the three boys go at it, full throttle, and the rest of the team would stop their workouts just to see who would be the last one standing.
“Cael learned to survive because Cody and Cole would beat everybody up, “Debbie says. “Cael remembered that. “
Dents in the walls at home long since have been patched, teenaged strife being what it was, but the boys evolved into best friends, including Cyler, who was considerably younger than the others.
They grew to love each other, but they also grew to win.
Cody, now 28 and the coach at Utah Valley State, won four state titles, went on to wrestle on U.S. World teams, and was a two-time NCAA finalist for Iowa State at 133 pounds. He was an eight-time high school All-American, in two different wrestling disciplines.
Cole, 26, a professional nutritionist/dietician/counselor, was a three-time state champion, a junior national champ, a four-time national qualifier at Iowa State, and a world team member.
Cyler, 18, has won three state titles, and finished second at a prep national this year at 140 pounds. He plans on enrolling at Iowa State in the fall.
Cael, 25, was all but unbeatable in high school and college, and his Olympic title topped off what might be a career unparalleled in American wrestling. He may yet lengthen that career, but right now he is coaching at Iowa State, taking the year off.
“Debbie had high expectations for the boys, “says Steve Sanderson. “She pushed them that last little bit to help them get things done the right way, whether it was school or wrestling. I spent a lot of time with them in the gym, but she added something maybe it’s indescribable, that made it more enjoyable. She is intense, but she has a sense of humor. She was always there for them. Always. “
If there is to be a tribute to mothers on this Mother’s Day, for this particular mother, it comes in the words of her sons.
Says Cody: “She was incredibly dedicated to whatever we wanted to do. She didn’t baby us. Wrestling is a tough sport, it takes a lot of toughness. She gave everything we needed to achieve our goals. “
Says Cole: “She’s a hard worker. Whenever you’re around someone like that, you try to follow that example. It’s difficult to keep up with her, but we’ve tried. She made you feel like the most important person in the world. “
Says Cyler: “We got a lot of our drive from her. She always tried to get us to give our best, whatever that was. “
After Cael won his gold medal, he says he stopped to think about the people who made it possible. She was the first who came to mind.
“My mom made so many sacrifices, “he says. “Without her, there was no way. She taught me, all of us, to take responsibility. To get an athlete to fulfill his potential, he has to learn that. She never put pressure on me to win. It was always just to do my best – every time. That’s what she did. That’s what she gave me and gave my brothers. She definitely was and is the backbone of our family. “
But . . . that’s a mother.
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