They came from Wyoming, Idaho, Nevada and the far-flung reaches of Utah to the Delta Center Saturday night. But not for a Jazz game. This crowd didn't come in evening wear or business suits; it came in casual shirts and jeans, with intent to watch, not be watched.
The occasion was a wrestling match between BYU and Iowa. The plan was to draw 20,000 fans and set an NCAA record for the largest crowd ever to attend an amateur wrestling event. It fell short, but for a sport that sometimes draws only 500 fans to a BYU match, this was the big time, no doubt about it. The night was highlighted by a nationally renowned opponent, a large crowd and a disproportionate number of people with cauliflower ear.The impetus for the match was the endangered status of BYU wrestling. Last spring, BYU officials announced wrestling would no longer be funded. After decades of success, the Cougars had been pinned -- by their own administration. BYU wrestling is slated to complete its final match at the end of the 1999-2000 season. Budget problems and low attendance, combined with the usual Title IX dilemma made it vulnerable to the budget ax.
Amateur wrestling has been on the ropes nationwide. Programs have been shutting down for more than a decade at colleges across America. In many cases, there just isn't enough interest. Even wrestlers admit it's not a glamorous sport. You don't see kids on the street wearing wrestling shoes. And there's certainly nothing cool about the headgear.
But there are those who love it, among them being Sandy's Ross Brunson, whose son wrestles for the Cougars. When he heard the program was going the way of the manual typewriter, he started getting emotional. He figured it was like taking down the victory bell at the Marriott Center, or maybe the Brigham Young statue on the quad. Why not just rub out the "Y" on the mountain?
Is nothing sacred?
So Brunson began a grassroots campaign to save the program at BYU. He contacted wrestling organizations throughout the West to drum up support. A mail-in campaign to BYU and LDS Church officials resulted in 10,000-20,000 letters. He contacted BYU officials, who said if enough funds were raised by outside sources -- i.e. Brunson's Utah Amateur Wrestling Foundation, Inc. -- they might reconsider.
It was all he needed to hear. Next thing you know, wrestling legend Dan Gable was on the phone. Gable, who has served as wrestling coach and Assistant to the Athletic Director at the University of Iowa, agreed to convince the Hawkeyes to come to Utah for a meet with the Cougars.
Gable, it should be noted, is as big an amateur wrestling name as there is. He's the guy who built a 182-1 record as a wrestler at Iowa State. Same guy who won a gold medal in the Olympics in 1972. Legend has it the Soviets came to the Games with the solitary goal of defeating Gable. He did his part for detente by not allowing a single point by an opponent.
Gable was there along with the Iowa wrestling team on Saturday, getting the word out. The message was simple: If an established program like BYU's folds, that weakens the system. With fewer college programs, the Olympic team could suffer. There could be fewer youth clubs, high school and junior high teams. Eventually amateur wrestling could cease.
Gable takes it a step further, saying it weakens the American tradition of striving for the best. Maybe a little dramatic, but who's to say? "I'd hate the attitude we have about some things to be the same way about our country," he said.
In any case, it is ironic the traditional form of wrestling would struggle while its evil twin -- professional wrestling -- enjoys unprecedented success. It seems a cruel trick that only a handful of kids today know Gable's name, while millions know Goldberg's and Stone Cold Steve Austin's.
The irony isn't lost on Gable, who worries that the message of sex, violence and trash-talking might be connected with amateur wrestling. "They have the same name. Theirs says 'pro' and ours says 'amateur' in front of 'wrestling.' That's about as close as they get," said Gable.
He does allow this: Pro wrestling knows how to market. He doesn't have a problem with promoting grudge matches and building drama. But the salacious themes, combined with the head-banging and neck-twisting, keep him a respectable distance from the WCW and WWF.
With that in mind, BYU and Iowa took the mat on Saturday for a common cause. They were opponents and they weren't. On the one hand, both wanted to win. On the other hand, there's nothing that makes allies like the possibility of mutual extinction.