It seems like at least one Monday every other semester, Penn State students flock to the Bryce Jordan Center. It's not for a basketball game or a concert; rather, they pack the arena to catch a glimpse of the high-flying action of World Wrestling Entertainment.
I have never been there, only witnessed it on television. Maybe that is why I don't see what draws people to this so-called "sport." I guess the burly men rubbed down with baby oil would hold some appeal to certain people. As would the chanting and steel-chair wielding maniacs that enter the rings. Like I said, though, I have never gone.
I have witnessed college wrestling, though. I will be the first to admit that I was not a huge wrestling fan before, but I had seen some. After having taken in what college wrestling is all about, being there to witness these athletes put it all out there at Rec Hall, I am hooked. I am also convinced that this is the real wrestling.
Sure, professional wrestling fans would argue that their version has things that college wrestling does not have. I say, prove it.
The WWE has always portrayed its wrestlers as legends that will never die, that helped shape the industry into what it is today. Guys like Hulk Hogan and Ric Flair.
What about college? What about guys like Dan Gable? Gable went 118-1 as a wrestler at Iowa State. He was a three-time All-American and two-time national champion. He won a gold medal at the 1972 summer Olympics -- without surrendering a point. Then, for 21 years he coached the Iowa juggernaut, winning 355 matches and 15 national championships (including nine in a row). He coached the U.S. Olympic teams in 1980, '84 and 2000. That's a legend.
WWE has always bragged about the excitement it offers. Come on, what could be more thrilling than watching men in Speedos elbow-dropping and supplexing their way around a squared ring?
Thrilling is Penn State freshman Nate Galloway, in the midst of a midseason slump, pinning an opponent before the sweat has time to form on his forehead. Thrilling is Nittany Lion junior Scott Moore pinning a Big Ten opponent in a key match. Then, as instantly as the referee's hand hit the mat, Moore explodes up, circling jubilantly with a solitary finger raised to the crowd.
Drama and desire are the other tactics of professional wrestling.
It hypes up the dramatics of the wrestling "matches." It is the largest selling point for professional wrestling. It definitely sells -- sells like a cheesy soap opera that has run out of ideas to improve.
For real wrestling drama, there only need be two words -- Cael Sanderson. At the 2002 NCAA championships the Iowa State Cyclone wrapped up his fourth consecutive national title. More astounding was his 159-0 career record.
I wasn't there when that final match was taking place, but to imagine what it was like to witness instant history and absolute perfection -- it must have been dramatic.
As for desire, there is no way professional wrestlers can have a high level of desire to win. It just isn't possible when a wrestler has no say in how his career goes.
This past weekend I saw desire. Thanks to ESPN2, wrestling fans around the country were fortunate enough to see the finals of the NCAA wrestling championships without having to fly to Kansas City.
What I saw in those wrestlers was nothing but pure desire. Facial expressions and body expressions told the story of a long season wrapped up into one final match. The winners were as relieved as they were joyful, the losers as respectful and honored as dejected. There has never been more desire in one building.
Collegiate wrestling doesn't have everything that professional wrestling has. Collegiate wrestling has everything all its own, which is why it is the real wrestling.
