Thank you visiting this page in tribute to Roger Shaw. Please considering buying a shirt that symbolizes Roger's love for wrestling. All proceeds from the sale of these shirts go to Roger's family. All shirts will be printed after the sale is over on 8/5/2016.
As I writer, I seldom find myself unable to settle on the right words, but when trying to decide on the best adjective to describe Roger Shaw, I am struggling. He was small in stature but enormous in presence. He was tough as nails, demanding 110 percent from his wrestlers. He was hard on everyone in the room. If a wrestler wanted a compliment from Roger, he was going to have to earn it. But as tough as he was in the room, he was equally as caring and nurturing in the corner. Roger was the first coach to celebrate with my four-year old when he finally won his first match of the year at the last tournament of the season. He was the first coach to wipe the tears from the freckled face of my eight-year old when he lost a heartbreaker in the state finals. He knew wrestling, like life, was series of ups and downs. Peaks were to be celebrated and cheered. Valleys were a time for comfort but not complacency. It seems like only yesterday that my two little boys (now teenagers) hopped into the car and headed off to their first wrestling practice for the Brooke Cubs. I didn’t know what we were getting into. I wasn’t prepared for the highs or the lows. I didn’t know how ugly or how beautiful this sport could be. I didn’t know that the mat would turn friends into a family or mold my boys into men. I didn’t know that I would meet people like Roger and be all the better for it. But I know now and I am so very grateful. I am grateful for the peaks and the valleys. I am grateful for lessons learned and goals achieved. I am grateful for our wrestling family. I am grateful for Roger Shaw. I am grateful that my boys are vipeRStrong. - Stephanie Elverd
I’ve wrestled my final match. I’ve taken my last shot.
I’ve been rattled, still I battled. I felt fear, still I fought.
I’ve scored my final point. I’ve made my final move.
I left it all on the mat with nothing left to prove.
I’ve waged war against the clock and as the final second fades,
I’m at peace with my six minutes and the choices that I’ve made.
I’ve known victory and defeat and been on both ends of close calls.
It’s been bitter and it’s been sweet, this life of takedowns and falls.