The Buckeye Wrestling Team tied the University of Missouri Tigers, losing the high powered dual meet on “criteria,” going to the fourth tie breaker. Tie meets are first decided on number of wins (tied at 5-5), then on falls (tied 1-1) and then on the total of individual match points (also tied at 48-48). Thus, they lost the dual 20-19 because the Tigers scored more first match takedowns.

It is beginning to sound like a broken record—this team has tremendous potential—the kind of potential that could easily propel the Buckeyes to their first national title in March, but injuries have to some extent masked that potential. It is becoming increasingly clear however that youth and inexperience are talking a toll. Buckeye fans have only to look at what the football team experienced after a loss to Virginia Tech to understand the hold that youth can put on title aspirations. The good news is that like the football experience, lessons can be learned early on that can erase early disappointments and lead to the ultimate goal.

The Buckeyes saw winners at 133 (decision by junior Johnni DiJulius), 141 (forfeit to senior Logan Stieber—which counts as a fall), 157 (decision by senior Josh Demas), 174 (decision by junior Mark Martin) and 197 (major decision by freshman Kyle Snyder). Freshman Bo Jordan was healthy enough to go at 165 if needed, but the decision has been made to hold him out until January to get him both completely healthy and ready. Junior Kenny Courts was injured in Las Vegas and was held out at 184.

Freshman Nathan Tomasello was again victimized by an early mistake that led to a takedown and three backpoints that put him down early 5-0 to third ranked Alan Waters. He stormed back only to fall short 10-8. Nathan has now faced most of the top wrestlers in his 125 pound weight class, including Waters. He has demonstrated superiority through most of those matches but has had the youthful bad luck of getting caught for back points, largely because of his high motor that experienced wrestlers have used against him. At some point Nathan will start to understand what guys at this level can do if you aren’t careful. When that comes, Nathan will be unstoppable.

Sophomore Justin Kresevic filled in gamely once again at 165, and could have won his match, but also made a mistake to lose a heart-breaker. This underscores the importance that experience plays—like a backup quarterback, a reserve wrestler never knows when he is going to be called on and it is a tough task to keep your head against top flight collegiate wrestlers. His energy, drive and talent were unmistakable. He will have his chances again, and hopefully a lesson was learned against Missouri.

The emotional moment of the match came when junior Hunter Stieber emerged to the center of the mat to go against highly ranked Drake Houdashelt. It was thought Hunter would be held out for injury precaution until the New Year, but after two Buckeye wins, including Missouri’s default to brother Logan, the crowd was stoked to see the highly successful Hunter emerge for this campaign. Hunter clearly was not ready for action yet—he was caught in a crossface cradle after a wild scramble for the takedown and pinned as time wound down in the first period.

Coach Tom Ryan conceded it was probably a mistake to insert Hunter in a surprise move. “It’s a lesson how tough the sport is. The body, mind and spirit must be working in unison. Tonight they weren’t for Hunter. Credit to his opponent as well. He stunned him a little. Hunter is ok from a health standpoint and we will work hard to prepare him for our next dual.” So again, the Buckeyes were hurt by not collectively being ready.

Even the wins had tough lessons to think about. Johnni DiJulius is my dark horse candidate for NCAA champion. At his best he has proven he can beat anyone. He has come out this year much tougher and for the most part noticeably more aggressive–you can start to see the pain he is inflicting on opponents. Yet, Coach Ryan offers, “he has to close out periods.” He zoomed out to a commanding 4-0 lead with over two minutes of riding time, only to get reversed near the end of the match, nearly avoiding backpoints. He likes to wrestle in a way to make opponents uncomfortable, but Coach Ryan concedes that piling up points is what really discourages an opponent. “He has a tendency to just hang on, and that is a recipe for trouble.” If Johnni wants to avoid the simple math of getting upset because occasionally things will go against you in close matches at the end, he has to use his punishing style to start putting distance between him and his opponents early and often.

At 197, the anticipated match-up between Snyder and defending national champion J’Den Cox did not materialize as Missouri opted to move Cox up to 285 to win the meet—Cox eked out a win against the always hard working Nick Tavanello. Against the back-up Snyder scored a major 15-5 win, racking up a torrent of takedowns. So far this year Snyder has proven to be as good as expected, which is to say breath-takingly good. Snyder is a world junior freestyle champion who has spent a few years honing his freestyle wrestling. Coach Ryan concedes he needs to advance with his collegiate style (“folkstyle”) by working on his back scoring holds and adding some things from his feet. The complaint, a minor one, is only one of emphasis. “He’s going to be a factor for sure,” Ryan concludes.

Mark Martin ground out a close win but again the feeling was that he was just hanging on, rather than wrestling at his potential. Mark is also one of those guys that you expect has unlimited potential if he went into each match with more determination and fight. He seems at times to get discouraged at points in the match and often leaves you feeling he has more to give than what you see.

Another emotional moment came with Josh Demas’ return to the mat. Demas is naturally traumatized by the death of his close friend, teammate and roommate Kosta Karageorge. “Josh lost last year to injury,“ Ryan notes. “I expected him to come out this year with a youthful passion. We have not seen that yet, though I understand he is having a hard time. He has tremendous talent.”

When asked if there was anything that pleasantly surprised him in the Missouri meet, Coach Ryan responded, “No. [It] was an uninspired performance overall. [I’m] starting to believe this team will have to wrestle above their potential to score the necessary points. We look very average now.” Coach Ryan does not put the responsibility solely on his wrestlers. When asked if his young team mirrored Urban’s football team after that VaTech loss, he volunteered, “Exactly. Hope we can coach them up as well as he and his staff did.”

The wrestling Buckeyes have had to deal with far more than most teams have to fight through in a young season. There is a lot of growth that needs to happen and at the current moment the questions outnumber the answers. But it is a long season. If the coaches can get the young men to come together with a clear common purpose with each doing what he can do with his circumstances, there is every reason to think they will weather the tumult. What this team really needs is for a few of the guys to simply step up from their expectations and have one of those beautifully memorable breakout years. Everyone will enjoy watching Logan Stieber attempt to get a hold on history but if the team wants to be a part of history as a group, others will have to step up and help lead the way.

This past weekend, the Buckeyes, two years removed from a Cliff Keen Title, went to this year’s event in Las Vegas as a severely wounded team. In addition to several lingering injuries that will mask their potential until January, the team struggled to deal with the tragic death of beloved teammate Kosta Karageorge. Kosta lived with four Buckeye wrestlers and was dear friends to everyone on the team, leaving some too fragile to dive back into competition just yet. Other wrestlers, most notably second seed Kenny Courts, underperformed, perhaps as a result of the turmoil of the past week.

Despite all that, the Buckeyes finished second in the prestigious event, signaling that even with one hand tied behind its back, this team is a powerhouse in waiting.

Logan Stieber won his fourth Cliff Keen title with a dominating performance at 141 pounds against Devin Carter—the phenom who returned early from the most severe of hamstring injuries last year to meet Stieber in the NCAA finals, only to lose decisively. It was thought a completely healthy Carter could be trouble for Stieber but such was not the case. Carter is likely the strongest wrestler Stieber will face, and that showed. Carter deflected several brilliant attacks by Stieber, but in the end, Stieber’s own strength, attacking position, aggressiveness and vastly superior tool box was too much for Carter. Stieber looks unstoppable as he drives to an historic fourth NCAA title.

Freshman Nathan Tomasello was seeded sixth but proved he is among the elite at 125 pounds. He was punishing highly regarded Dylan Peters until he dove in for yet another takedown but was caught off guard and pinned in dramatic fashion. Tomasello bounded through the wrestle-backs in dominating fashion, winning third place by pummeling the four seed from Air Force in a major decision. Peters would actually finish sixth. Tomasello is a force. A mistake here and there in his young collegiate career cannot hide the fact that he is among the very best already, which he had announced with authority. The Cliff Keen runner-up Joey Dance of Virginia Tech was also getting roughed up by Tomasello in an earlier dual meet before coming back with a surprise near fall at the end to beat Tomasello. Once Nathan cleans up the vulnerabilities caused by his aggressiveness, he will be sitting near the top as we had suspected he would.

The story is similar for Kyle Snyder, the rock tough Buckeye freshman at 197. Snyder appeared to be the dominant wrestler in a 3-2 loss to champion Kyven Gadsen of Iowa State, but Gadsen seemed the beneficiary of docile refereeing as he consistently backed down from an attacking Snyder without so much as even a stall warning. Snyder was otherwise overpowering as he claimed third.

Johnni DiJulius also finished third at 133. This is a likable, fun and talented kid. But he is also brash and perhaps a little stubborn. Or maybe he just has multiple personalities because the great and not so great Johhnis were on display in Vegas. He has a deliberate style that often lands him in very close matches. So it should not surprise that the second seeded DiJulius lost a tight quarterfinal match to a competent but unranked wrestler. He also had to pull an overtime rabbit out of his hat to win a consolation semi-final.

But then the great Johnni showed up in the consolation bracket finals as he raced out to a commanding 6-0 lead and had the match put away by the time the third period started. It was a beautiful thing to watch. It would be even more beautiful if Johnni would decide to use his talents to accumulate a lead early more often, and not leave his title hopes to the late match vagaries of chance.

Nick Tavanello pitched in, as he always gamely does, with a fifth place at heavyweight. Nick can still get overpowered by the bigger boys in the weight class. However, if you combine his talent and drive with the weight lifting tutelage of former Buckeye great Nick Heflin, the future looks very bright for this sophomore, who won that fifth place match with a dramatic pin.

At 174, Mark Martin had some tough duty. For the most part he wrestled well, though he was obviously mentally deflated by a loss to eventual champion Robert Kokesh of Nebraska. Mark had wrestled well though and came back nicely against the punishing Kokesh. A pin in the seventh place match did bear witness to Mark’s ability to shake off a tough loss.

I continue to have nothing but praise for Randy Languis and Justin Kresevic, two reserves who pitched in, went out and won a few matches, looking every bit the part of strong collegiate wrestlers.

That the Buckeyes could finish second in such a strong field is a scary thought. Serious title contenders Hunter Stieber, Bo Jordan and Josh Demas did not make the trip and the Buckeyes travelled with only nine wrestlers, leaving for Las Vegas immediately from Kosta Karageorge’s memorial service. Thus they did not even field a wrestler at one of the stronger weights. After the tournament, the team and coaches were able to finally relax and soak up the joy of watching their football brothers destroy Wisconsin in the B1G title game. The solace and sense of brotherhood seemed palpable as the group witnessed the national spectacle with Kosta’s number on the Buckeye helmets, and watched Michael Bennett wreak havoc on the Badger offense wearing Kosta’s number.

People can look and say, “well, they only finished second,” but the truly amazing thing is that they finished at all, let alone second, under such circumstances.

My article for OSU Athletics. Josh Demas and his teammates seek national titles as they restore the promise from Josh’s freshman yer: go.osu.edu/WR_DemasProfile

I did. It’s close! “@wrestlingbucks: vote yet? @Buckeye158 up for #SMOY Head Coach http://www.elitelevelsportmarketing.com/#!smoy-awards-head-coach/c3ma … pic.twitter.com/qloM4nUsBz” @MotSaG

I’ve struggled to find the right picture with which to introduce the remarkable life of Ohioan Ernie Wright. Ernie starred on the football fields of Toledo, Columbus, Los Angeles, San Diego and Cincinnati but his greatest legacy lie in his founding and building Pro Kids, a remarkable inner city education and sports facility that has been a prized charity of the PGA and USGA. Ernie died of pancreatic cancer in 2007 but his story is so big and so impactful that the choice of where to begin is as delicious as it is difficult.

A first thought was to describe a drive east on I-8 from the shores of San Diego, getting off the freeway at the Montezuma exit and heading through a perplexing neighborhood on the way to San Diego State University. On the one hand you cannot help but notice the colorful vegetation basking in the warm sunshine. But as you keep driving and take a turn southward toward University Blvd, you notice that you are entering a neighborhood that can politely be termed transitional, but by the time you turn right on University and then take another quick right, you realize you have arrived in the midst of a run-down struggling inner city neighborhood.

But in the midst of this depressing environment, all the sudden you pull into the parking lot of Colina Park Golf Course to find a lush and beautiful oasis, that with its beautiful welcoming building out front, could easily be mistaken for a country club (but for its par 3 size). But coming to and from this paradise are young people of every color and background. Walking past the patter of happy children and the beautiful waterfall you see the bronze bust of the man identified as Ernie Wright.

I could choose pictures at other locations to start this story. I could go up 35 miles to the Marine Corps town of Oceanside, which also has impoverished areas, one of which is home to the Pro Kids, Ely Callaway Golf and Learning Center for Children.

Or, just a few miles from Oceanside, at the La Costa Resort and Spa, where greats such as Jack Nicklaus, Tiger Woods, Arnold Palmer and Lee Trevino prevailed in PGA play, I could introduce you to Ernie by the trophy that greets you as you enter the men’s locker room.

I could introduce you with a photo of Ernie surrounded by his twin mentors, father Floyd and coach Woody Hayes, and I could tell you about Ernie’s greatness at Ohio State before Ernie was enticed to leave in 1960 (with the support of Coach Hayes) before his senior year to take the money of the founders of the start-up American Football League’s Los Angeles Chargers (who would move to San Diego a year later).

Or I could start with a picture of an imposing Ernie in Charger gear alongside his beautiful and demure wife Edith, whom Ernie met while she attended the rival, and now defunct, Toledo Libby High School.
Or I could start with a picture of Ernie coming full circle to end his career as a Cincinnati Bengal in the state where it all started.

Ernie protecting the blind side for the Bengals

But I think the best place to start is by considering the span in between two family episodes without pictures. In April, 2014, at the beautiful seaside hotel in San Diego adjacent to the venerable Torrey Pines Golf Course, hundreds of San Diegans paid $300 a plate to celebrate the 20th Anniversary of Pro Kids, an inner city youth training and development academy that has flourished with golf as a backdrop in the inner city of San Diego.

Holding the celebration at a hotel overlooking Torrey Pines was altogether fitting. In those early years, the pros at Torrey Pines provided support and influence that helped elevate the new charity to a multiple PGA Charity of the Year and the model program for the USGA’s First Tee Program. Early founders of the program remember bringing young inner city new golfers in the program to introduce them to golf at a more glamorous level than the then run down impoverished Colina Park. Those founders had tears in their eyes as they realized that half of the youngsters, though living only a few miles from the ocean, stared in glorious wonder at their first sight of it.

But I digress. The banquet celebrated the young children served by Pro Kids with the full star power of San Diego, with technology, but most importantly with the kids themselves—kids, now many of them young men and women, who have gone on to successful careers after graduating from college with scholarships provided by Pro Kids, and computer and learning skills developed in the two story country club like structure at Colina Park.

The celebration continued in front of several tables filled with the family of Ernie Wright. To the right of the stage was the tall, charming and energetic widow of Ernie, Victoria, who is still actively involved in Pro Kids, and who was seated with long time outgoing Pro Kids CEO Marty Remmell and former CFO Amy Romaker (each of whom is among those in the long line of heroes and heroines in the Pro Kids story). Victoria sat, listened and softly wept as she once again saw the images of Ernie on the big screen in front and heard his voice.

To the left of the stage, and symbolically separated from Victoria by the divide of a table of the current leaders of Pro Kids, were two full tables that included Ernie’s look alike brother Floyd Jr. (“Uncle Buddy,” himself a star for the Toledo Rockets), his children, and their mother—the same, regal and beautiful, Edith. The children, whose success Ernie always attributed to the tireless devotion of their mother, are Cheryl, an internist at Sharp Hospital, Laura, a CPA in Los Angeles (or as Ernie would say, CPA to the stars), Ernie Jr., an affable and friendly lawyer who played football at the University of Kansas, and Howard, a Stanford alum and Qualcomm executive who played basketball professionally for eleven years, including three in the NBA.

Seven years after Ernie’s death, this family still basks in the charitable legacy that the family has so richly earned. And that Ernie gave life to.

But the image that is most enduring and most telling comes from circa 1938 when a teenage Floyd Wright, father of Ernie, sat on top of a bus in Florida so that he could get high enough to watch his beloved Toledo Waite High School football team lose a national championship game in the warmth of Florida. Young Floyd’s heroes lost that day owing largely to the fact that their most dominant hero, 6’3” 230 pound Floyd himself, was denied even entry to the stadium because of the color of his skin. From the photo below one can see and feel the pain and torment of a young man, so determined and talented. It is so heart breaking.

Without much opportunity for a black man to play college ball, Floyd finished high school, married, worked multiple jobs and started a family. When chubby son Ernie came home one day to announce he was going to play freshman football at Scott High School (a companion high school to Toledo’s Waite), Floyd, angry that Ernie did not try out for varsity, told Ernie to meet him every night in the backyard after Ernie’s practice. In the months that followed, each night after Floyd’s multiple shifts, with the assistance of Floyd’s sharp elbows and overpowering strength, Floyd would “teach” Ernie in the backyard mud how to play the game.

So the searing example of an understandably seething father set the template for a man that through football would give life to the dreams his father could not achieve on his own, though through no fault of his own. But in life, the baton of heroism is often passed from one hero to the next. So it would later become with Pro Kids, then it was in Ernie’s life. As a high school senior, Ernie was about to sign to play for the University of Purdue, when Woody Hayes, after being alerted by family friends, asked Ernie’s parents if he could come calling. Ernie’s mother recalled that while other coaches were promising this great thing and that great thing would happen if Ernie attended their school, Woody sat down with the woman later to be known as “Gams” or “Gammy” and said simply, “I’ll take care of your son.”

Long before Woody lost his offensive and defensive line star by telling Ernie he was right to take the fledgling AFL’s money and forgo his senior season, Woody Hayes proved over and again he was true to his word to Mrs. Wright, and then some. Once Ernie’s mom broke her ankle so severely she could not care for herself. Floyd, working three jobs still simply could not afford to take the time off, so Ann and Woody, in an act of kindness that would trigger the harshest penalty from the NCAA today, took Mrs. Wright into their home for weeks and nursed her to health.

Not that Ernie ever thought of Woody as any kind of softie, a point made abundantly clear early in his sophomore year—the first year a student could play at the varsity level. With Ohio State getting shut out at halftime, Ernie was confused to see the veteran players rush to the back of locker room. After a maniacal Hayes stormed into the locker room, twisting face masks and punching players within range with a force only matched by his spitting screaming, Ernie was relieved of his confusion. The Buckeyes went on to win in a rout.

It is difficult to comprehend the complexities of these two portraits and their relevance to the great topics of race, achievement and charity. On the one hand, the two great influences on Ernie’s life, a black father whose strength and torment was forged in the world overseen by the benevolent but combustible white coach and protector, and on the other, two wives, one black and one white, beautiful and wonderful in their own rights, seated amidst their own loving and wonderful families at a commemoration of the greatest achievement by a man who achieved much, separated by one mere table yet also separated by all the natural animosities of life. A family divided by divorce still basked in and celebrated much they achieved, not only with Ernie, but in fact together.

Son Howard, who has inherited his father’s legacy and who now sits as the chair of this wonderful and growing charity, remarks at the complexity of his father. Those who knew Ernie at first have trouble digesting that. Ernie was a seemingly smart, funny and positive man who spoke thoughtfully and wisely with obvious experience to back up his thoughts. No complexity in that. But when you contemplate these two portraits, you wonder how it could be anything but complex. Ernie did not suffer sleights or fools easily, as one of Cheryl’s teachers learned upon a visit from Ernie after the teacher, guided perhaps by a latent racism or sexism, suggested to a distraught Cheryl that she temper her dreams of becoming a doctor and shoot more for something like being a nurse. Yet Ernie’s best friends, and even family, knew no bounds based on race or background.

And you can add to the complexity. As an example, Ernie was a conservative Republican. One could say it was a different Republican Party then, but even that is too simplistic. A man that spent much of his life devoted to providing a life-saving opportunity to adults and children of color with little means was a man wise to the unfairness of life but aware that given tools, any person can grow past that unfairness by taking advantage of those tool–party affiliation has no place in such a logic.

None of us is insulated from mistakes, even very large ones. Ernie would laughingly reflect (written in this article), for example, on a time he sat outside a Las Vegas casino after having lost all his cash and asked an older, wealthier mentor for a temporary loan since he was a good online player and a book maker so he explained; Why the bookmaker will never go bankrupt by comparethebets. He would then recount the old gentleman wrapping his arm around Ernie and advising, “Son, if you look around at all these vast buildings and consider they are paid for with the losings of suckers like you, maybe you’d reconsider.” Ernie never gambled at a casino again (friendly games for a few dollars based on skill on the golf course remained a fun part of his life).

This is what made Ernie different—and thus perhaps more complex. He acknowledged his mistakes openly with a self-reflective head shake and a short sentence or two that reflected his grasp of the lesson to be taken. That Lincolnesque quality to step back and look at oneself with a forgiving eye indeed is what vested Ernie in a hard learned and deeply seeded acceptance of the humanity in himself and others. He did not suffer fools lightly, true, but as he aged he suffered them with a calmness and a determination to help one grow if he could do so simply and meaningfully, but certainly he learned to not let a fool interfere with his underlying purpose at any given time.

Ernie had a way of parsing praise and criticism, including self-criticism, even-handedly. Undoubtedly, if alive today, he would continue criticism for a few positions taken by those who reside on the political right, but he would likely be near horrified at the increasing separation between today’s evolving left and his core beliefs. The lessons on how to live a life and grow as a human were hard earned by his entire family—ancestors and offspring . Ernie, like his entire family, was a man who stared down barriers and attitudes, used all the tools at his disposal and found no use for the wasted energy and distraction of victimhood.

Pro Kids, which now adopts (at Howard’s wise instigation) the mission to help solve the growing digital divide between rich and poor, providing computer and technology access in a nurturing and safe environment in neighborhoods where the average family income is only $25,000. Golf is employed more as a fun and healthy backdrop. But the Wright family legacy is even greater. Ernie Jr., who took over Ernie’s growing business that offered half way house employment opportunities to adults finishing incarceration, now looks for mixed-use land opportunities to provide similar outreaches of hope to battered women, abused children and others in need.

The legacy of Ernie Wright is the legacy born of the pain of Floyd, Edith, Cheryl and Laura Wright. It is now overseen by Victoria, Howard and Ernie Wright, Jr. It is a story remarkable for its pain and triumph. With all its color and complexity, it is a successful Buckeye, San Diego and American love story.

Recently Ohio State athletics was thrust into the collegiate pay for play debate in a deliciously ironic way. Shortly after Ohio State’s Logan Stieber won his third NCAA wrestling title, sports writer Dan Wetzel gained his usual amount of national recognition by noting that Stieber’s efforts, for which he is not paid, triggered an $18,000 contractual bonus to Ohio State’s Athletic Director Gene Smith.

Dan Wetzel is at least two things: a sports journalist for Yahoo! Sports and a clear advocate for drastic change in the collegiate athletic model. Right on cue, he made his points that collegiate amateur status is a difference without distinction. The Smith payment not only dramatizes his point that college athletics is a professional enterprise (one feels he can only barely hold back from also calling it a criminal enterprise), but it shows, in Wetzel’s fantasy, a gross hypocrisy of the current state of affairs by rewarding a fat cat like Smith who, no doubt in Wetzel’s mind, sat on his couch drinking a rum and coke while the (literally) starving wrestler beat up an overmatched Devin Carter of Virginia Tech (after also demolishing wrestlers from Missouri, Oklahoma State, Harvard and Penn State).

Wetzel, presumably a nice and likable guy with some real talent, often asks for critical thought on the larger subject (a point I find ironic given that after asking him to do exactly that a year or so ago, I started receiving trolling tweets from Yahoo!’s mini-lawyer legal “specialist”—who, while representing Yahoo! has a history of trolling and badgering people on Twitter— mocking my professional credentials and hitting me with some form of humorous seventh grade political economic babble). Unfortunately Wetzel offers up little of his own critical thought though you can understand why. I applauded Wetzel for diving into the Penn State and Steubenville dramas, but you will never see a guy like Wetzel actually breaking such stories (for example, it has been my understanding the Penn State story was busted open by a female journalist who does not cover sports).

Sports journalists who need to make a living to pay for their family’s well-being have one primary need—access to athletes. Yes, coaches, administrators, referees, fans are all important. But what gives a guy like Wetzel the cache and insider importance is access to athletes. No matter where you look in sports journalism that is the one common thread. Yes, Wetzel can jump on Aaron Hernandez and Jerry Sandusky after the court system has caught them in their midst and made them dead to a sports journalist, and of course Wetzel can go after a high school football program that would otherwise be completely below the sphere of influence that puts bread on his table (or in the case of Yahoo!’s paralegal—fast cars—how is that for a cliché?).

But a guy like Wetzel would never survive with the reputation of an investigative journalist looking to expose the unknown acts of bad athletes or coaches. Athletes are mostly like any other large group of people—there are the very good and the very bad people, even if it just might be that the athlete population might have a little more than its share of bad guys. No, Wetzel’s job is to bring sports to the public but to do that he has to have the trust of athletes. Not only is he not going to be looking for dirt, one has to believe he is going to actively support their attitudes toward the sports world.

But the texture is even more delicious. Do you think Wetzel cares about a wrestler—even as great a wrestler as Logan Stieber? I saw no indication Wetzel even bothered to talk to Stieber before he wrote his piece. Wetzel writes what, 100, 200 articles a year? How many are on college wrestling? How much aligned do you suppose Wetzel is to the views of a Logan Stieber? In his original piece, did Wetzel know or even care that Stieber is thankful for the opportunity he has—to compete on a great stage for a great university and to receive a great education, and that he is thankful to Gene Smith for making that happen?

Probably not. The Logan Stieber story is an uncomfortable truth in the Wetzel narrative. Perhaps Wetzel is from the school of socio-political school of thought that there is always more money—that vast resources can be taken from one outlet and be replaced—perhaps from the StubHub money/ticket tree. If the Wetzel fantasy were to become reality, large collective sums would be taken from those who “use” and are enriched from collegiate football players and given to abused football and basketball players who in Wetzel’s world “earn” the money.
In reality, that money would be taken, not from Gene Smith or the NCAA (well money might in fact be taken, but not enough to fulfil the fantasy). No, the money would be taken from the athletic budgets of the very rich athletic programs of Ohio State. It would also be taken from the nearly poor programs like the University of Maryland—in such bad shape financially it had to abandon the ACC where it was a charter member. How do you think programs such as wrestling, baseball, soccer, etc. will fare after such a wealth transfer? But wait, it gets worse.

There is a thing called Title IX. I suspect this is a complicated matter but the basic premise of Title IX is to create a certain parity in financial commitment to men’s and women’s athletic opportunities. It is kind of hard to imagine there could be a new transfer of sums to even one men’s program without a similar increase for women’s sports. So the carnage to other men’s programs practically doubles. Maybe an Ohio State could survive, maybe not. But what about poor Northwestern, Purdue, Minnesota, Cal, Bowling Green, etc? In the future could a Virginia Tech maintain a program so that a future Devin Carter could go face to face with the future Logan Stieber?
Wrestlers who follow in the footsteps of Logan Stieber may in fact be able to compete for an NCAA title in the world hoped for by Dan Wetzel, but the number of competitors might dwindle to what—5? Twelve?

Do I have concern for the victims in Dan Wetzel’s narrative? Of course I do. If one comes from a poor background—as I did—s/he may well suffer the anguish and uncertainty that I did when my father apologized that he could not give me the money I needed in addition to my summer earnings to close the gap of the cost of education as an athlete not on scholarship. Would I support compassionate need based-stipends to bridge the gap? Of course I would, but you still have the question of where does the money come from, who would get hurt and how do you avoid creating a chasm between programs that can afford and those that cannot?

Should the NCAA institute its own compassionate program funded by a tax on coaching salaries such that those who benefit the most financially from the system provide the bridge over the gap for those that struggle the most under the current system? But is that all we are really talking about? Maybe the NCAA could permit high profile athletes to sign endorsement deals that would require significant allocations to such a fund. What would the Title IX implications of any such funding efforts?

While we are talking about someone’s fantasy, how about embracing one of mine—that the pool of fatcats who make a living off the athletes—journalists from say Yahoo!—pay for their access by contributing to the fund that can be used to ease their pain. Gene Smith is hired in part because of his participation in the world of sports. But he is also asked to employ the tools of the CEO of an enterprise vastly more complex than most companies. If anyone is a professional in sports here and if anyone with little other portfolio is making money off the efforts of college football and basketball players—it is Dan Wetzel. Let’s be fair—ask him to open his accounts and what he makes off sports, and then compare it to the complexity of his duties. Strictly fantasy of course, but if he wanted to be totally pure on this issue, he should deal with the inherent conflict of the sports journalists who are so offended by the current system.

Am I blind to the fact that schools sometimes take advantage of athletes that have brought honor to their school? No—the stories, alleged or not, of Ohio State’s treatment of Jesse Owens have always deeply bothered me. A little conscience and consideration go a long way and I support any journalist who is trying to bring any amount to the world of sports. For that reason I have some sympathy for the unionization efforts at Northwestern (I would have more if I thought our nation’s labor laws actually foster a constructive environment, but too often the result seems to be more focused on the rights of labor leaders and not on the expansion of opportunity).

But my point is that of the hundreds of thousands of collegiate athletes who participate annually, as the commercial says, only a very few will go pro in their sport. The vast majority are people like me who had the opportunity to compete in collegiate athletics, who witnessed how vital all sports are to a college campus, who feel they received a lifetime of benefit from that participation and who in fact were students who depended and will to depend on their career as students to provide for them over the huge expanse of life to be traversed after hanging up the cleats—or singlets.

What people like Wetzel really are decrying is the lack of opportunity below the level of our highest sports leagues. There are very few football “minor” leagues and for those that exist, hardly anyone watches and no meaningful money can be made—let’s just guess it might be what–$200 per game? I am just going to hazard a guess that of the 10,000 or so Division I football players each year, maybe 5 or 6, or some very small number like that could go directly into the NFL from high school. Without a college campus, where would the others go? I would guess they would fight for a few spots in the minor leagues. I would guess the minor leagues would become a little more successful, but much beyond, for example, what minor league baseball players enjoy?

The vast majority of collegiate football players never make it to the NFL and those who do labor in a difficult world and often wash out after a few years. The rest would be consigned to the obscurity of the minor leagues but for college football. Collegiate football players—largely being of minor league quality for much of their collegiate career—become celebrated heroes not for their athletic prowess in isolation. Rather, their talent gets a stage provided solely by a university that alumni and the entire community embraces and supports. The entire university is connected by a long and common experience and identity that is a community asset, not a club owned by an owner. A university is a vast interconnection owned by all and embraced by many.

It is that connection that celebrates the talents of a young man or woman who chooses to become part of the community—if he and his or her colleagues were to go compete with and against each other in a minor league system they would receive no more notice than a talented guy like Matt Barnes receives when he plays summer basketball with other NBA players in the San Francisco rec center on the Kezar Stadium football grounds.
So when you compare the value of a four year full paid scholarship (which I never got and which Logan Stieber is very grateful for—as Wetzel noted, schools are only allowed ten 9.9 equivalent wrestling scholarships for a team that has 30 or more wrestlers) to $200 per game, the financial reward to nearly all collegiate football players is not only a handsome payoff, it results in an education to carry them well past the three year NFL playing career average of those fortunate to make it to the League. And while we are at it—just what do you think the health care commitment of a minor league system would be? How do you suppose the training and safety equipment of a minor league team would be compared to a major college football program? Again, this community “abusing” athletes seems to be providing resources, assets and opportunities that far outweigh those that would be otherwise available to the vast majority of even the elite of college football.

And there is one more point. Even for the small numbers of football and basketball players who can achieve NBA or NFL status—they need a place to get ready. Just as only a few collegiate English majors can achieve a common “ultimate” goal of teaching in a university English department, those that can achieve professional sports status learn their craft in the same old university tradition—working their butts off in their chosen lab. Who has sympathy for the vast majority of English grads who labor countless hours studying only to end up working in an unrelated field having gotten nothing from their studies but broader life lessons? How is it much different from the committed football and basketball stars at both ends of the spectrum—except that English majors have no hope of the four year-long interview platform that big time collegiate sports offers to students and prospective employers.

So when you add it all up—the rewards of a scholarship, a place to live, food to eat, a facility and program to teach you what you came to learn, and the platform on which to achieve and become known for long after you are done playing—who really is taking advantage of whom?
Yes, I am sure you could legislate drastic reductions in the salaries paid to Gene Smith even though he has to oversee dozens of programs, hundreds of employees and hundreds of millions of dollars of plant and equipment. I am sure you could wipe out lavish dinners, drinks and perks leaking out of the college bowl system. You could squeeze every villainous fat cat you can get your hands on. We are in an Occupy world where there is a belief that you somehow can enrich the downtrodden by slicing up the people at the top.

The truth is, the end result would be to greatly diminish an asset we all cherish and benefit from that goes way past the few hours a year we spend in front of the TV watching our favorite college football team. We could do all that only to really punish the great number of athletes who survive on much less so that we can give it to a very few who already enjoy a pretty good deal relative to what they could accomplish by never setting foot in a classroom.

At that summer job I referred to, I cut grass and did maintenance for the Westerville Parks and Recreation Department. My boss was a middle aged guy named Dale DeBolt. In the mid-fifties, Dale had been offered a full football scholarship to the University of Wisconsin, but instead he “went pro”—i.e., joined the Navy. Forever acknowledging his mistake he longed for what would have been his had he embraced the opportunity to earn a degree and escape the drudgery of overseeing college students with futures that only added to his inner torture. Dale would have had hardly any more chance of playing at a pro sports level than the vast majority of other Division 1 football players—but he would have had a life he could have been proud of rather than the one I saw him struggle with.

I am just going to guess that Dan Wetzel has never talked with Logan Stieber, while Gene Smith has on many occasions. I am also going to state that while it is nice Dan Wetzel can notice how far at the bottom of the food chain wrestling, baseball, soccer and similar programs are compared to basketball and football, his “critical thinking” either has not extended to the ramifications to those programs, a campus or the mission of a university, or he simply does not care—and why should he—writing about wrestlers is not going to improve the quality of the car he drives. But Logan knows that Gene Smith went out of his way to ensure a new state of the art wrestling facility is put into the near term university plan, a facility that whether Dan Wetzel wants to embrace it or not, will benefit honest to God student athletes.

Dan Wetzel could embrace the power of a world where opportunity is there for the taking. Rather, he chooses to fire away with the pen of hypocrisy at the very people fighting to preserve that opportunity.

So at the end of it all, when Dan Wetzel writes a stacked piece about a program he shows little regard for without bothering to even express the views of his subject, then I ask, who really is the one taking advantage of Logan Stieber?