Spencer Lee talks silver at Paris Olympics

Sometimes a storybook ending just isn’t meant to be.

Unfortunately for Spencer Lee – and a Hawkeye fanbase rooting him on from around the world – that was the case in Paris on Friday, as he fell 4-2 to #1 seed Rei Higuchi in the Olympic gold medal match at 57 kilograms.

There’s no real way to properly encapsulate the heartbreak Lee must be feeling to have come so far against such tremendous odds only to finish just short of realizing a lifelong dream.

And so, I won’t even try.

As for Iowa fans out there who tuned in – many of whom (I think) doing so not in hopes of fulfilling their own rooting interests, but out of a genuine love and support for a young man that’s given them so many incredible memories – I’m not sure that I can really help you process the emotions of this aftermath either.

It’s probably going to sting for a good long while – and maybe bring a tear to an eye or two as well.

But that’s the price you pay, I suppose.

These moments in life (and sports) couldn’t possibly generate such elation if they couldn’t also hurt so deeply.

And in that way, I’m sure ‘Hawkeye Nation’ will be hurting from this defeat for quite some time, but no one more so than its 25-year-old ‘adopted son’ from Murrysville, Pennsylvania whose continued pursuit of his wrestling dreams is about as admirable and earnest as anything in this life can be.

We’ll get to the match itself in a bit; I promise.

And I’d also be remiss not to note the significance of the now 11 ^th Olympic medalist in Iowa Hawkeye wrestling history – one that spans all the way back to Terry McCann in 1960.

But before that, I want to start with one of the very first thoughts that popped into my head as I sat down at my computer to write this piece.

I don’t know if it’ll make any sense or how it’ll be received, but I’m not really sure where else to begin.

So, here we go.

The best wrestlers in the world are afraid of Spencer Lee.

I’ll say again, the best wrestlers in the world are afraid of Spencer Lee.

Now, please don’t be confused – I’m not talking about ‘fear’ in the cowardly sense.

I’m talking about the sort of appropriate fear that tends to crop up when a very real and present danger exists.

The kind of fear that any rational human being would experience if they were visiting the zoo and received word that a hungry lion had escaped from its enclosure.

The kind of fear that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up as an absent-minded sibling/spouse suddenly starts blow-drying their hair just a few feet away from where you’re sitting in the bathtub.

The kind of fear that after four-straight years women’s college basketball teams will finally get a reprieve from this winter – that at literally any moment from anywhere in the arena Caitlin Clark might decide to let it fly.

Spencer Lee hadn’t wrestled at a single, major Senior-level international tournament in his entire life before these Paris Olympics, yet every opponent who stood across from him over the past two days did so with a noticeable degree of fear over his capabilities.

You can go ahead and call it ‘respect’ if you think that sounds tougher, but we can be honest about what it’s truly rooted in – a warranted fear that only a select few individuals ever manage to engender amongst the other top competitors in their particular sport.

I watched today’s 57-kilogram final and saw a 2016 Olympic silver medalist (who also finished 1 ^st /2 ^nd in the World each of the past two years) wisely keep his distance from Lee whenever he possibly could.

Rei Higuchi had been a champion and a phenomenal wrestler long before the events of this match. And in his first-ever meeting with Spencer Lee it became abundantly clear that he too feared what the Hawkeye legend could do if given even a sliver of opportunity.

Six minutes later, Higuchi stood as the worthy Olympic champion because he never gave Lee that opportunity, and instead capitalized on one – and just one – of his very own.

How it happened

After both wrestlers more or less dominated their respective paths to the final, I think a lot of folks entered this match anticipating a high-octane, high-scoring affair.

What we got instead was the complete opposite – though no less elite in its own execution.

https://youtu.be/cZuTCMxCIo8?si=ckPT1SBlKmiFRQox

Over the first two minutes hardly anything in the way of potential offensive engagement was broached by either of the two finalists.

Higuchi fired the occasional shot from distance but would quickly retreat upon sensing Lee gaining any sort of advantageous tie.

Then, after being put on the 30-second shot clock, the American finally got in on the first semi-decent attack of his own – a shot to Higuchi’s left leg that was soon stymied via front headlock by the 2022 World champion.

However, Lee would persist through the position, building up to his feet and forcing his opponent out of bounds to both nullify the ticking shot clock as well as secure the first point of his own.

1-0.

Half a minute later with the first period coming to a close, Lee nearly stuck for a go-behind takedown after defending a single-leg attempt.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t quite find a secure grip to bring Higuchi down to the mat as the two circled a full 540 degrees amidst the position – though Lee would manage to salvage the scoring sequence with another step-out point and a 2-0 lead with less than nine seconds remaining.

Shortly after the brief intermission, Higuchi scored what proved to be the decisive points of the match.

A nice double-leg attempt 30 seconds into the period initiated a wild scramble with Lee seemingly going from ‘dead to rights’ to nearly out of the woods to fighting off his back, now trailing 2-2 on criteria.

It was the exact sort of sequence that we’ve seen him miraculously come out on top of so many times before, but on this occasion, it was his Japanese foe who prevailed.

After a restart with about two minutes remaining, the stakes were clear – Lee needed another score (of any value/fashion) to regain the lead.

While he stalked and probed for an opening Higuchi continued to maintain a careful distance.

His two best scoring opportunities would occur one minute apart as Lee found himself working from a front headlock position near the edge – once with 90 and the other with 30 seconds left in the bout.

In each instance Higuchi ‘grounded himself’ on both knees, a strategy that freestyle wrestlers often utilize to avoid giving up a step-out point even though they’re being driven out of bounds.

It’s a legal, albeit obvious tactical maneuver that a mat official has the right to penalize if they deem the action to be overt in its avoidance of wrestling.

That said, such a call is rarely made and ‘offenders’ besides Higuchi have gotten away with far more blatant displays without consequence.

Other than those two moments Higuchi’s impeccable defense kept him out of any real danger, and the final 4-2 margin would be cemented as Lee went to his back while attempting a last-ditch throw in the dying seconds.

The End

More so than anything else in the moments after the match – more than the visual of Higuchi proudly running around the mat with a Japanese flagged draped over his shoulders, more than seeing Spencer Lee’s parents embrace one another in the stands in the wake of their son’s crushing defeat – I think my lasting memory will be of Lee standing on the podium with a silver medal around his neck.

Clearly disappointed, a stoic Lee was suddenly showered with cheers by an adoring crowd of supporters who’d made it all the way to Paris and into the packed arena:

After a beat or two he looked toward the crowd, flashing a thumbs up and a small smile.

Was all suddenly right with the world? Of course not.

How could it be when just an arm’s length away another wrestler was about to receive the very prize that had been at the source of his own incredible efforts and perseverance for all these years?

But in this writer’s eyes the gesture, however painful, reinforced the notion that this – much like the other substantial adversities he has faced and overcome in his life/career – will not define Spencer Lee.

To do so many of the things he has already done should’ve been reason enough to believe that.

Even so, this latest reminder only strengthened the conviction all the more.

As I said in my preview earlier this week , “I believe in Spencer Lee.”

This result hasn’t changed that one bit.

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