Mike Cremeens always leads by example — even if nobody is watching.

His work phone rang at the worst possible time. Cremeens was ready to walk out of his office. It was a perfect Chicago afternoon, and Wrigley Field was calling. He stared at the blinking light on his desk phone, wrestling with the decision to pick it up or head out to watch his beloved Cubs.

Cremeens picked up the phone — because he always tries to do the right thing.

On the other end was a woman named Kristen, calling about an invoice. The receptionist had put her through to the wrong extension — his extension. As Cremeens tried to help route her call to the right department, something unexpected happened.

“My computer’s shut down,” he explained. “I’m getting ready to go to a baseball game.”

“Oh,” she said. “What team?”

“I’m a big Cubs fan.”

“Oh …” came the response. “I’m a Yankees fan.”

Little did Cremeens know that picking up that phone call would later lead to his future wife and family in rural Pennsylvania.

The Chicago Years

Cremeens was born into wrestling. His sister became the first female wrestler in his high school’s history. His father took fourth at the Illinois state championships, earned a wrestling scholarship to the University of Missouri, then lost it after coming down with mononucleosis his freshman year. With the Vietnam draft looming, his father enlisted in the Army and ended up in the 101st Airborne Division.

Growing up in Plainfield, Illinois, just outside of Chicago, Cremeens lived for the mat. But wrestling wasn’t just his passion — it was a connection to a father he’d lost too young.

When he was 10, his dad passed away in a car accident, and his mother, an ER nurse, raised four kids. Wrestling became Mike’s connection to the man who had introduced him to the sport.

“After I graduated high school, I had a couple of schools looking at me — some D-III schools. I didn’t feel like it was the right time to leave, so I decided to graduate and start working,” Cremeens said. “I stuck around home, and I kind of got away from wrestling for a little bit just because I was busy being an adult.”

Mike’s best friend Andy and his father, Lou, were always there. Lou treated Mike like a second son, loading both boys into his car every weekend to drive to tournaments across the Midwest.

“Bring $20,” Andy would tell Mike on Friday afternoons. “We’re leaving Saturday morning.”

Lou had a system: double-bracket the boys, entering them in their weight class and the one above it. While other kids wrestled four matches, Mike and Andy wrestled eight. Exhausted, they’d pile into the backseat afterward and break down every match on the drive home. Andy was always just a little better, collecting first-place trophies while Mike racked up seconds and thirds.

Until sixth grade.

Standing across from Andy in yet another finals match, Mike made a decision: “I’m going to do everything opposite,” he thought. “Instead of lining up with my left leg, I’ll use my right. Instead of shooting my blast double, I’ll hit a sweep single.”

It worked. Mike beat Andy, 5-1, claiming his first win over his best friend.

Andy didn’t take it well. He slapped Mike’s hand instead of shaking it, rode home in stony silence, and passed him a note at school the next day: “When and where do you want to fight?”

Mike wrote back: “Wrestling practice?”

But when practice came, Andy walked past him without a word — and then unleashed fury. Every drill became a battle. After practice, Andy approached him like nothing had happened.

“My dad said we’re wrestling in Indiana this weekend. You’re staying at my house Friday night.”

No apology. Just wrestling.

That was their friendship: forged in fire, tough love, and trust.

After that day, the dynamic shifted. Mike had proven he could beat Andy, who responded by training harder. From then on, it was about 60-40 in Andy’s favor — but Mike had found something more important: confidence.

Finding Family

Years after his childhood wrestling victory vs. his best friend, Mike packed up everything from his condo and headed east. That after-hours work call from Kristen changed everything.

She was a Tartar. Her brother, Joe, had been a heavyweight runner-up at the Pennsylvania state championships in 2003 and wrestled for Muhlenberg College.

Cremeens moved to Lehighton on Kristen’s 31st birthday in 2011, trading the urban sprawl of Chicago for the quiet mountains of the Poconos. The culture shock was real, he said. The silence even kept him awake.

Kristen had two boys, Connor and Aiden. Mike stepped into the role naturally — the same way Lou had stepped into his life.

As the boys got older and involved in sports, Mike felt that familiar pull. He started coaching with Team 209 youth wrestling nearly a decade ago. He bought his first pair of wrestling shoes in years and stepped back onto the mat.

But something was missing.

Standing in practice, demonstrating moves, he realized: he still had it.

After a youth session, he came home and told Kristen, “I think I might want to wrestle again.”

Kristen understood. She’d grown up around wrestling. But she also understood the risks.

“I want you to do what you love, but I have some concerns,” she told Mike. “Just promise me you won’t wrestle unless you’re 100%.”

Return to the Mat

Three years ago, a tournament in Wildwood, New Jersey, offered the perfect comeback. Mike cut to 157 pounds, trained harder than he had in decades, and entered the veteran division.

His corner? His family — and roughly a dozen young wrestlers he coached.

His first match in over 24 years came with a twist: his opponent weighed 190 pounds. There weren’t many entries, so the tournament used Madison-style bracketing.

Mike battled. After the first period, he thought he “might die.” But he pushed through, scored a reversal and back points in the third, and won 4-0. His wrestlers mobbed him on the mat.

He won his next match by forfeit, then wrestled one final bout — bruised, bloodied, but victorious. He walked away a champion.

A Bout With a Stud

Mike returned to competition again this spring — now 45 years old.

At a MAWA qualifier, he entered a three-man bracket. One opponent was a college kid. The other? “Superhuman.”

Cremeens watched the monster pin the college kid in a devastating display of power.

In his own match, Mike lasted nearly two periods before getting caught in the same combination. Embarrassed, he apologized to Kristen.

“What are you sorry for?” she asked. “You’re doing something most people won’t do again after high school. You’re more than double their age. Don’t apologize.”

What Mike didn’t know: the guy who beat him was Mike Mitchell — No. 8 all-time in wins at Duke, a two-time All-American, an international competitor, and an Olympic qualifier.

“I can’t believe you,” Mitchell told Cremeens after the match. “How old are you?”

“Just turned 45 yesterday,” Mike said.

“I’m going to tell my kids about you when I get home.”

Cremeens won his final match 10-1. He placed second in a bracket filled with athletes half his age. His record since returning: 5-1, with his only loss coming to an Olympic-level wrestler.

Mitchell and Cremeens are now friends. Mitchell even asked Mike to coach him at a recent tournament.

Full Circle

Mike’s 12-year-old daughter, Lila, is a cheer and dance competitor. Though she’s grown up on wrestling mats and has an impressive wrestling IQ, she insists: “Dad, I’m a dancer.”

The Lehighton wrestling program is thriving. The girls’ program grew from one wrestler to 49 in three years. The youth program feeds a strong middle school team led by Joe Tartar and Bart Mease, and the high school team — coached by Floyd Brown with Cremeens, Tyler Cann, and Jacob Hoats — continues to grow.

“I can’t say enough about the Lehighton program and everyone involved — especially the parents,” Cremeens said. “Everyone is willing to put their time in, whether it’s fundraising, donating food, or whatever the case may be.”

What’s Next?

Cremeens still wrestles — but only when 100%, honoring his promise to Kristen.

He and Lou still stay in touch. Every time Mike posts a wrestling video, Lou comments with pride. Decades later, Mike is still one of his kids.

“It’s a sport that promotes lifelong skills,” Cremeens said. “It gave me confidence in life. I want to pass the torch to these kids.”

The circle isn’t quite complete — it never will be. Andy died in a motorcycle crash in his 20s. But every time Mike steps on the mat, he carries Andy with him.

“Take it out on the next guy,” Lou used to say. And Mike still does.

You’ve likely seen him — running around Lehighton, waving from his porch, stopping to chat. He’s one of the community’s biggest supporters.

Connor is entering his senior year. Aiden will be a junior. But Mike has no plans to stop coaching.

“I’m just a 45-year-old man now,” he said, laughing. “But I’ll keep wrestling until my wife asks me to stop — or something breaks.

“At the end of the day, I want to be the best husband, father, and person that I can be — and then wrestling. I can be a wrestler and still be those things. But those are the things I want to be first.”