Meet Henry Cejudo, America's newest Olympic champ

BEIJING -- She walked to the border in high heels.

She was young, and she was Mexican, and she had heard about life in the United States.

The land of opportunity. The land of big cars and bountiful malls.

"She thought it would be easy," said Henry Cejudo. "She thought it would be like Disneyland. She wore high heels, got all dressed up."

Cejudo is telling this story with a gold medal draped around his neck. He is beaming and he is remembering and he is thinking his mother was not all wrong.

OK, she was wrong about the high heels. And about Disneyland.

But America START ITALS is END ITALS the land of opportunity. How else to explain this?

How to explain this gold medal in wrestling? How to explain this day of all days?

How to explain the son of an illegal immigrant standing on a podium in China and watching through tears as the American flag - his flag - is raised for all to see?

"It is a great story," he says, "an American story."

Which begins, like so many American stories, with someone wanting a better life.

Her name was Nelly Rico, and she was just 15 when she crossed. The men who guided her across the border that day laughed aloud at the heels.

Her life would not be a life of heels. It would be poor, and it would be desperate, and it would often be hard.

She had seven children, four boys and three girls. She cleaned toilets and she worked in factories.

Cejudo cannot count how many places the family called home. He can count three cities: Los Angeles, Albuquerque and Phoenix. But the number of places he laid his head?

"The rent would go up," he said.

The family would move. His father did not help because his father was not there.

"Your father is Jesus," said his mother, and that was that.

She did not permit complaining. If there was a family ethic, that was it.

"You just got to keep moving forward in our house," Cejudo said. "If you're crying about something, they'll laugh at you."

There was no time to complain, for one thing. And what good did it do? Complaining did not feed seven children. It did not pay the rent.

Just try to get any of the seven Cejudos kids to talk about their poor, pitiful childhood.

"I'm tired of that story," said Angel, an older brother. "There's no excuses. There are no victims in the world "

No excuses, no victims. That's straight from the book of Nelly.

"The USA is the best country in the world," said Alonzo, yet another brother. "It allows you to express yourself in whatever you are strong."

For the Cejudos, that became wrestling, at least in part because it was on TV. The Ultimate Warrior. Hulk Hogan. What kind of American story would it be without the Hulk?

Frank Gaenz is the wrestling coach at Maryvale High School in Phoenix. He remembers the first day Henry Cejudo walked into his gym.

"He was little," he said. "He weighed 60 pounds."

But boy, the kid was tough. And determined. Pretty soon they were raising money to go to national tournaments.

"I sold shirts," said Cejudos. "And tamales."

Tamales went for two bucks each.

This is how the family made its way in wrestling, on tamales and grit. When Cejudo was invited to the United States training facilities in Colorado Springs, it was the first time he ever slept in a bed by himself.

"It was lonely, to be honest with you," he said. "I felt like I needed someone next to me."

For the longest time, his brother, Angel, was considered the better wrestler. But it was Henry who stunned everyone and made the Olympic team at 121 pounds.

"He's the future of American wrestling," said Kevin Jackson, the American freestyle coach.

"I'm the present," said Cejudo, never one to wait.

Some of the more experienced wrestlers rolled their eyes. At 21, Henry was just a kid. The experience would help him at the next Olympics, but he was too young to do much in Beijing.

Then came Tuesday. How to explain Tuesday?

"It's like a dream," Alonzo Cejudo said.

Alonzo, Angel and Gloria stood together in the stands Tuesday, along with Frank Gaenz, the high school coach. They waved American flags, and they wore American flags over their shoulders or tied around their necks.

They went crazy when Cejudo won his first match. They got progressively crazier from that point on. Cejudo beat a Bulgarian, and a Georgian, and who would believe this stuff?

"You hear about this and you read about this," said Alonzo, "but now we're living it, 'bro."

Nelly, the mother, was watching back in the States. You have to be an American citizen to get an American passport. Nelly watched on the Internet.

"She just threw up," said Alonzo. "She's so nervous, she's thrown up three times today."

The gold medal match was against Tomohiro Matsunaga of Japan. Cejudo had a purple welt over his eye from his semifinal match.

In the stands, the Chinese usher urged Cejudo's cheering section to sit down. They sat. Until the match started and then it was happy bedlam again.

Cejudo won the first round, then broke ahead in the second. The usher gamely tried to do his job.

"You must sit," he said.

"You will have to leave!" he said.

"We didn't want to get kicked out," said Alonzo, "but your little brother is going for gold, what are you going to do?"

You're going to jump and dance, scream and high five, wave your American flags. You're going to laugh. You're going to cry.

"WE LOVE YOU HENRY!"

You're going to say that, too.

When the match ended, Cejudo fell to his knees. Then he grabbed a flag of his own and held it high. He sprinted. To nowhere in particular. Just because he had to sprint.

There are moments every American wonders whether this country has lost its way. And there moments like this one, when we are reminded that the promise of the country can still come true.

A girl named Nelly dreamed of a better life. Within a generation, her son stood on a podium in China and watched through tears as the American flag - his flag - was raised for all to see.

No, it wasn't easy. It certainly wasn't Disneyland.

But there was her son, touching a medal.

"The streets really are paved in gold," he said.

(Contact Geoff Calkins of The Commercial Appeal in Memphis, Tenn., at calkins(at)commercialappeal.com.)