These principles, or "laws" as I've called them, began to take form in the early 1990's after I became head wrestling coach at UC Davis. At the time UCD was a non-scholarship program competing in the tough Pacific-10 conference, among the nation’s top two or three wrestling conferences. The absence of scholarships, coupled with the athletic department's ongoing threat to cut the wrestling program, made it difficult to recruit top wrestling talent. In a conference where high school state champions are commonplace, I took over a team comprised primarily of young men whose greatest wrestling accomplishment was placing in their high school league championship.

In order to be competitive in the Pac-10 it was clear I not only had to develop the team physically and technically, but because nearly every opponent was vastly more accomplished, I had to nurture their fighting spirit and competitive resolve as well. Drawing on my own experiences, observations and research, I assembled a list of several qualities I deemed essential for success in the combative arena. I dubbed the list "Lajcik’s Laws" and made them the foundation for all our training.

Over time, as the wrestlers began to embody the "Laws", their improvement was nothing short of profound. One sterling example was the team's 118-pound wrestler, who had a record of 1-19 his sophomore season, the year before I arrived.

The next two seasons he won 15 and 20 matches respectively and was elected team captain. Like most of his teammates, he’d tried hard during that dismal sophomore season and most of his defeats were by narrow margins. But instead of directing his effort toward winning, it seemed he'd been trying hard not to lose too badly.

Early in that first off-season, I met with each wrestler and watched videos of every one of their matches from the previous season in painstaking detail. Each time they conceded a point or failed to capitalize on an opportunity, I pointed out the specific technical breakdown or lapse in commitment and made them take detailed notes. I tried to impress on each wrestler that he wasn't losing because he was a loser. Rather, each loss was the result of correctable errors of technique or intention. The task put to them was correcting those errors, mental as well as physical, and each team member undertook in earnest for the remainder of the off-season.

With intense conditioning came a heightened level of commitment; with refinement of technique came confidence. When the season arrived, the physical preparation and the concomitant resolve towards victory predictably produced more wins. Meanwhile, the occasional loss no longer became reinforcement for a defeatist mindset. Instead it fueled motivation and signaled areas in which to direct their individual training. In short, the team began to actualize its true potential, and in doing so became such an immense source of pride for me that I write about them now, so many years later.

Over the years, as experience has dictated, I've added a few laws and broadened some of the existing explanations to fit into the context of combative sports in general. The underlying premise remains unchanged, however. That is, fighting excellence requires the commitment and integration of body, mind and spirit.