The Corner You Build
Tap Cancer Out is a 501(c)(3) fighting for those in the fight of their lives.
Friday night, downtown Salt Lake. Fancy hotel. My mom and my cousin Cheryl, both of them from Colorado, because that is the kind of family I come from. Riley, who wore her tactical vest all weekend like she had somewhere to be and something to protect, which, honestly, she did.
And then, at breakfast, Jackson and London walked through the door. My nephew and his sister. Also from home, also unannounced. I stood there for a second, the way you do when something good surprises you and you’re not sure your body knows how to handle it without making it weird. It handled it fine. Mostly.
That was the whole weekend in miniature. The kind of people who show up before you ask them to. The kind of love that doesn’t announce itself. It just walks through the door.
Saturday, I stepped on the mat at the Tap Cancer Out BJJ Open.
I want to be honest with you about what happened, because this journal has never been about performing health or pretending the scoreboard reads differently than it does.
I lost both of my matches.
The first went to points. Here’s what I know now that I didn’t then: points are a strategy, not just a byproduct. I went in to fight. I didn’t go into score. That’s on me. You can have all the techniques in the world and still lose the game you forgot you were playing.
The second went by submission. A move I have been caught in before at open mats. One I know. One I’ve felt coming. And still, I got caught. Partly because I was gassed. My cardio was the honest limitation, and the mat does not accept excuses, only adjustments.
Here is what I also know. My jiu-jitsu held up. I stayed composed when the pressure came. I probably could have slipped that submission if my gas tank had more in it. The mat told me what to work on. I'm listening.
But I walked off that mat proud. Not in spite of the losses. Because of what the losses clarified.
Competence breeds confidence. Not wins. Competence. The work you put in before anyone is watching, that’s the thing that lets you stand in your own corner without flinching. I stood in my corner. I competed less than a year after APL tried to take me out. I raised more money as an individual than anyone else at the event.
I went 0-2 and won the day.
To the Ones Who Showed Up Financially
Most of you reading this already know who you are, because most of you are already here, already subscribed, already part of this corner. You didn’t just donate to a campaign. You looked at a man trying to compete post-cancer on a jiu-jitsu mat for something bigger than himself, and you said: I’m in.
To Jon Thomas, who built Tap Cancer Out from the ground up and still took a moment to show up on my page personally. You created something worth competing for. That’s nothing. That’s everything.
To Matthew Reyes, my Aussie brother from another mother Thank you.
To Rich and Kristen Dapice, who gave together. That’s its own kind of statement.
To Bo Harris, who called this exactly what it was: getting back to the mat. Love you.
To Heidi Rhoads, who wrote “Love You Forever” and meant every word of it. I felt it.
To the crew from the network, Amy Oscarson, Kent Besaw, Shaun Lowder, and K’Shelle Waller: you showed up the way good colleagues do, without being asked, without making it complicated. Amy donated twice and wrote something I keep coming back to: “Congrats on tapping out cancer. Now comes the fun part.” Kent also gave twice, which tells you everything you need to know about him. K’Shelle told me to kick butt, which, frankly, was exactly what I needed to hear.
To Bo, who called this exactly what it was: getting back to the mat. Love you, brother.
To Amy, Kent, and Shaun, the work family that shows up before you ask. Amy donated twice and wrote something I keep coming back to: “Congrats on tapping out cancer. Now comes the fun part.” Kent gave twice too, which tells you everything you need to know about him. You three are the kind of colleagues that make the work worth doing.
To K’Shelle, an old colleague who told me to kick butt. Still listening.
To Sydney, who showed up quietly, and it landed exactly right.
To Sorge, who didn’t just donate; he picked up the phone. That kind of gesture doesn’t go unnoticed. Ever.
To Benjamin Paynter and Rachele Lennberg, to Ian Sime, steady and generous. Thank you.
To Michael Grandpre and Chase Lindsley, thank you for your support. It meant something.
To my closest people, Troy Evanson, Chris DeBeikes, Jackson Hunter, Linda Connor, Dave Guttenberg, Alayne Outlaw, Pat Koelling, Jake Reni, and Steven Forbes: you are the corner. Every single one of you. Dave Guttenberg gave generously, as he always has. He’s been part of my family’s story long before he knew this fight. This one’s for Nick, too, Dave. Thank you. Jackson walked through the door on Saturday morning as a surprise and had already donated before he got there. That’s the kind of people I come from.
To Don and Sue Mantyla, who wrote that they love me and are grateful to contribute to something wonderful. I read that more than once.
To Lava Care, who showed up with the energy of an entire team behind one donation. We love Tyler. Keep fighting. Heard.
And to the five of you who gave anonymously: I don’t know who you are, I don’t know why you chose to hide, but one of you called me a big sexy man, and I carried that energy into my warmup like a theme song. Thank you. All of you. Especially you. For the record, the OnlyFans pivot was briefly considered and swiftly rejected. Toes Tease & Takedowns only. It’s all tongue in cheek. Mostly
Last, and with the most respect, to Park City Jiu Jitsu, my home gym. Professor and Mona, you didn’t just donate as an organization. You built the place where I learned to stand in my own corner. Everything on that mat in Salt Lake started on your mat. Thank you.
Because of all of you, I didn’t just compete. I competed with purpose. There is a difference between stepping on the mat and stepping on the mat for something. You gave me something.
One more thing. If you’d like a complimentary paid subscription to Field Notes as my small way of saying thank you, reply to this email or drop a comment below. No pressure, no presumption. The offer is open.
Pain with purpose. That’s the Tap Cancer Out motto. You funded that. Thank you.
If this post met you where you are, share it. The Substack is free. The corner is open. All you have to do is show up.
No Quarter Given. Not to Cancer. Not to Empty Corners. Not to the Easy Way Out.
~Tyler