Editor’s note: This essay is part of “Stories from the Street,” a Police1 series featuring first-person reflections from officers across the country. These essays are about the lived experiences and moments that changed how officers think, lead and serve. If you have a story to share, we’d love to hear from you. Submit your story here.
By Anthony Calderon
I still remember the moment that changed how I coach and how I police.
One of our younger wrestlers had just come off the mat after a tough loss. He wasn’t angry or irate — he was crushed. He sat in the concrete runway outside the arena, staring at the floor, trying to fight back tears. I started walking over, ready to deliver the usual post-match rundown — the standard after-action report on his performance in the match and the tournament.
Something stopped me.
He didn’t need a coach in that moment. He needed someone who understood pressure, disappointment and the feeling of letting people down. So instead of giving that speech — which, honestly, was more about me processing the moment — I sat down next to him. I put my arm around his clammy shoulders and said, “I’ve been there. You’re going to be just fine. This is just a sport and I’m proud of you.”
That small moment of vulnerability changed something in me. It reminded me that leadership isn’t about always winning or having all the answers. It’s about knowing when to listen, when to teach and when to simply stand beside someone.
Since then, I’ve shown up differently both on the mat and on duty. When I started coaching high school wrestling, I didn’t expect it to change how I approached my career in law enforcement.
Today, I’m the head assistant coach for a girls high school team ranked in the top ten nationally. That success isn’t just a testament to talent — it reflects consistent effort, dedication and buy-in to our coaching system. Wrestling, and sports in general, teach discipline, resilience and strategy. But the lessons go far beyond competition. Over the years, I’ve realized coaching has made me a more effective officer in ways I never expected.
Discipline and routine
Wrestling progress never comes overnight. You don’t wake up one day with years of experience and mat awareness. It’s built through early mornings, endless drilling and attention to fundamentals. Our athletes succeed because they commit to the process, not a highlight reel.
Law enforcement isn’t much different. Daily habits shape the officer you become — prepping your gear, training at the range, reviewing reports thoroughly and mentoring recruits with intention. Those small acts build readiness. Coaching reminded me that discipline isn’t about being strict; it’s about being prepared. On the street, discipline helps an officer stay sharp as a tack during long shifts and respond to the unexpected without hesitation. It’s one of the things that keeps us — and the people we serve — safer.
Patience under pressure
We say “pressure is a privilege,” but I didn’t fully understand that until I was coaching one-point matches with entire seasons on the line — whether qualifying for state or competing in the finals. Early in my coaching career, I sometimes let pressure get the best of me. I raised my voice, overcorrected, micromanaged and failed to give clear direction.
On the mat, matches and team scores can change in a split second. As a coach and leader, I’ve learned to stay calm, assess the situation and guide athletes through pressure without panic. Pressure can cloud judgment, but it can also sharpen it by reminding us that split-second decisions have real outcomes.
On duty, the stakes are far higher. Tense situations, adrenaline and time pressure can blur judgment if you let them. Coaching reinforced the importance of slowing down, breathing through the moment and being a calming presence. People look to cops to steady the room and control the chaos. When we stay calm under pressure, everyone has a better chance of staying safe.
Communication and teaching
Contrary to what their parents might believe, not all wrestlers follow instructions. Every coach knows this. Some nod politely and do the exact opposite of what you tell them. Others need demonstrations — slowly, sometimes repeatedly — to learn a new skill. Some need directness.
But every one of them responds to coaching when it’s delivered clearly and respectfully.
Clear, concise and empathetic communication can prevent misunderstandings in policing. Talk to any tactical commander and communication will almost always appear near the top of post-incident debriefs as an area for improvement. It’s what we all wanted during field training while learning a new craft. That same clarity should be extended to new officers as they leave the academy and begin riding with seasoned partners. If we can’t explain ourselves clearly, we can’t lead effectively.
Building relationships and mentorship
When I shifted my coaching mindset from winning alone to mentoring young people, my life got easier. The wins still came, but the relationships grew stronger. Learning to earn trust and motivate without yelling or forcing effort made me a better coach — and a better officer.
That shift improved how I interact with the public. Community trust isn’t built through a single positive encounter. It’s built the same way it is with athletes: one conversation, one honest moment, one investment at a time.
Every interaction — with athletes, coworkers or community members — is stronger when it’s grounded in respect and genuine care. People cooperate with officers they trust. Trust is earned, not assumed.
Resilience and adaptability
“Adapt, improvise, overcome” were words drilled into my head at the Kansas Highway Patrol Training Academy as each new problem appeared. Wrestlers lose matches, get injured, face setbacks and deal with personal hardships. As a coach, my job is to help them get back up.
Policing demands the same mindset. Calls are unpredictable and outcomes aren’t always clean. Coaching taught me to embrace adversity, learn from mistakes and adapt quickly. Those qualities are essential for a long, effective career. Who are you when things don’t go your way? Resilience keeps us grounded and steady in a profession where challenges are guaranteed.
Closing the circle
I still think about that wrestler in the concrete hallway — a kid who needed a leader unafraid to be human. Coaching taught me the same is true in policing. Our communities don’t need perfect officers. They need present ones. Real ones who show up with integrity, empathy and patience.
Coaching wrestling has improved my leadership and decision-making as a mentor, SWAT operator, public resource officer and cop. Coaching didn’t just improve athletes — it improved me as a husband, father, coach, officer and person.
To every officer reading this and showing up day after day: thank you. Your work is often unseen and misunderstood, but it matters. You carry a weight most people never will, yet you continue to serve your communities, teammates and families. You don’t have to be perfect — but you do have to lead with integrity and compassion.
Just like that young wrestler, someone is watching. You might be the steady voice they need. Stay safe, stay proud and never forget that your work has purpose.
About the author
Anthony Calderon is a Technical Trooper with the Kansas Highway Patrol, bringing eight years of service to the agency. He currently serves as the Public Resource Officer for the southwest region of Kansas, focusing on community engagement and public information. In addition to his law enforcement role, Calderon is a girls high school wrestling coach at Garden City High School, where he mentors student-athletes and applies leadership principles that bridge athletics and policing.
