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Hidlay puts wrestling world on notice

Photo courtesy of USA Wrestling Trent Hidlay stands on the podium with his gold medal after winning the Challenger Series tournament in Budapest,  Hungary.

Budapest might want to check the wrestling mats for scorch marks after Trent Hidlay rolled through town.

You could say the city has seen conquerors before–Attila, the Turks, the Soviets. But last weekend, it was a young man from Mifflin County with a will like a locomotive, plowing through the best the sport could throw at him. By the end, all Budapest could do was hand him gold, throw up their hands, and hope he left the place standing.

If you’ve been paying attention–if you have even a distant cousin who ever laced up wrestling shoes in the Juniata Valley–you knew this day was coming. The rest of the world found out the hard way at the Polyák Imre & Varga János Memorial Ranking Series, where Hidlay painted the 92-kilo bracket red, white, and blue.

The folks in Hungary thought they were getting a friendly international exchange. What they got was a lesson in what happens when you mix Pennsylvania grit, an NCAA All-American’s engine, and a year when every time Hidlay gets on a mat, the mat starts to sweat.

They say sports are about moments. Hidlay made a weekend in July feel like D-Day with a scoreboard. He didn’t sneak up on anybody, either.

In the qualification round, he drew Abubakr Abakarov, an Azerbaijani whose name sounds like a Bond villain and wrestles like one. Hidlay beat him 7-2. Quarterfinals? Krisztián Angyal, the local hero, dreaming of glory in front of the home fans. He got three minutes in the steam room with Hidlay and lost 10-0. By the time the semifinals rolled around, Dauren Kurugliev of Greece took one look at the freight train coming and got hurt two points in. It happens.

But the main event was Miriani Maisuradze, a two-time world medalist from Georgia. You know Georgia–land of khinkali (a dumpling), Stalin, and some of the toughest men ever to put on a singlet. Maisuradze didn’t come to lose. He came with medals in his pocket, a ranking to protect, and a plan.

That plan lasted about as long as a good Hungarian goulash. With the score 2-2 early, Hidlay put him on his heels and never let go. By the time the whistle blew, the scoreboard read 7-2, and a Mifflin County kid stood atop the podium, hands raised, gold around his neck, probably wondering where they kept the good hoagies in Budapest.

This isn’t a fluke. It’s the continuation of a year that might make Hidlay rich keeping up with all the gold medals. He’s the 2025 U.S. Open champion. He won Final X. He made the U.S. World Team, the first from Mifflin County to do it since, well, ever. The young man who used to flatten high school rivals in gyms is now roughing up men with world credentials and passports so thick they need their own seat on the plane.

Something about Hidlay’s style defies geometry. He wrestles as if gravity works harder for him. He’s not flashy. You won’t see him cartwheeling or backflipping like a gymnast in a Mountain Dew commercial.

He prefers the direct route–head up, underhook locked, legs churning, the kind of wrestling that makes chiropractors rich and fans delirious. The only thing more relentless than his attack is his appetite for takedowns, for gold, for leaving opponents looking for the exit.

You could argue it’s the Wolfpack in him. NC State’s wrestling room is a blacksmith’s forge these days, turning out hammers by the dozen. Or maybe it’s the Pennsylvania DNA, that secret stuff that grows between Harrisburg and Altoona, part coal dust, part stubborn. Hidlay’s a reminder that the best wrestlers aren’t sculpted–they’re sanded down, made tough by early mornings, cold gyms, and a diet of optimism and Gatorade powder.

Let’s not forget the company he beat in Budapest. Abakarov is a wrestler who’ll wrestle you in your sleep if you let him. Maisuradze is no stranger to podiums or pain. The only thing they had in common by the end was a look, like they’d all tried to ride the same bull and got tossed. There are no soft medals in international wrestling, only survivors.

If you want to know what this means back home, ask around the wrestling room at Mifflin County High, where the Hidlay brothers are folklore, somewhere between Superman and Pecos Bill. The community follows every move.

But here’s the real secret: Hidlay isn’t done. Not by a country mile. Budapest was a warm-up act for Zagreb, where the World Championships are waiting and the lights get even brighter. The target on his back just got bigger. The way he’s wrestling, though, it might as well be a cape.

There will be harder matches. There always are. But if you’re a betting man, bet on the guy from Lewistown. The one who looks at a challenge like it owes him money. Because Hidlay isn’t chasing medals; he’s collecting receipts.

If you’re looking for fairy tales, read the Brothers Grimm. This is wrestling, where happy endings are earned the hard way, with hand-fighting, hustle, and a willingness to break your own heart chasing something nobody else believes is possible. Trent Hidlay gets it. Budapest was only another step in the right direction.

Because in wrestling, there’s always another whistle, another town, another shot. Hidlay’s story doesn’t end with gold; it starts with it. And the rest of us are lucky enough to watch him write the next chapter.

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