I should have known that Saturday was going to be a good day right after I walked into the gym at Zillah for the boys regional wrestling tournament.

The first person I spoke with, Royal senior Carter Allred, said: "Hello Mr. Escobar."

I'm not one of those adults who like to say: "Oh you don't have to say mister." I like to hear and see young people approach adults respectfully. My appreciation for Wiley and Maria went up considerably.

Carter helped me with a project on which I was working. While I snapped mugshots, he lined up all the wrestlers on the team and wrote their names in the appropriate order in my notebook.

Carter is not the only nice kid on this team. They all are. I'm especially drawn to 113-pound Kiki Chabolla and 195-pound Matt Bartlett. They can't stop smiling. They brighten my day.

I needed that Saturday as the day wore on. My grandson Grover Escobar, wrestling for Shadle Park, was struggling at the 3A regional tournament in Everett, and I couldn't be there to support him. A senior, this was his last chance to make it to state.

Grover, whom I've always known by his middle name Manuel, dropped his first match at 145 pounds by one point in three overtimes. Oh no, I thought, he's all worn out.

Cheering on the Royal boys and two from Wahluke kept me occupied while I waited for further news. It came in a text at about 2 p.m.

"We're going to state," his mother wrote.

Jubilation.

With elimination hanging over his head, Grover started his comeback with a 2-point overtime victory. Then he won, 11-3, to qualify for state. He took the third-place match 4-0. He wasn't worn out.

Grover's dad, Grover Sr., finished fifth in state at 135 pounds in class 1A his senior year. We're all hoping his kid outdoes him.

After learning from Pat that Grover had won third place, I stopped at the Zillah McDonald's for some take-home dinner.

A young employee saw me at the outer door and quickly opened the inner door for me. He beat me to both doors later as I exited with my order.

I was thinking highly of that young man as I walked to my car with a drink carrier in one hand and a bag full of food in the other. I shifted things around so I could reach into my right pocket for my keys. Wrong pocket.

I started to re-shift things when a young female voice called out from the service station across the way: "Do you need help?"

I turned, but before I could say, "I'm okay, thank you," this 13 to 14-year-old was at the car.

"I'll hold the carrier while you get your keys," she said.

Soon, all of her friends were surrounding me and chatting up a storm. All I could think was: Where are you from?

"Wahluke."

Another group of nice kids from South Grant County.