The Grappler Dynasty

Bruno Sammartino flattening Pedro Morales with a flying elbow. The Mighty Zulu punishing Man Mountain Mike with a bone-crunching knuckle headlock. Mention wrestling, and that is what comes to mind for most Americans. Not for the citizens of Stillwater, Okla. For them, wrestling offers far, far more than the dubious diversion of watching overweight meatballs belting each other in mock mortal combat. Reason: Stillwater is the home of the Oklahoma State Cowboys, the most successful team in college wrestling.

Everywhere that wrestling is regarded as a major sport--only the South gives it scant attention--Stillwater is looked to as a shrine. Since the N.C.A.A. began determining national wrestling champions in 1928, O.S.U. has won 27 titles--20 more than its nearest competitor, archrival Oklahoma.

This year's squad looks as powerful as any of its predecessors. With the exception of a loss to Portland (Ore.) State, O.S.U. is undefeated. In fact, three of State's ten starters--118 Ibs. to heavyweight--have yet to lose a match this year: Billy Martin, a cat-quick sophomore in the 126-lb. class; and two senior co-captains: gangling Steve Randall, wrestling at 142 Ibs.; and Ron Ray, a veteran of the 167-lb. division.

Gold Medal. Armed with a sizable travel budget and the inducement of 19 wrestling scholarships, O.S.U. Coach Tommy Chesbro has recruited in schools from Virginia to California. Last year he ended up with four of the nation's ten best high school wrestlers. Chesbro, once a State mat star, does not limit his scouting to the U.S. Two former O.S.U. grapplers now living in Japan keep him posted on blue-chip prospects there. For good reason: probably the finest wrestler in Oklahoma State's history was Yojiro Uetake, a two-time Olympic gold-medal winner for Japan.

Once he gets his manpower on campus, the soft-spoken Chesbro, 35, puts them through a wearing training regimen. Beginning in September, three months before the season opens, wrestlers work out three to four hours a day, concentrating on melting off every ounce of "Sub-Q-Fat"--their abbreviation for subcutaneous fat. That struggle continues through the season as wrestlers work to make their weight division before each match. Frequently they go without food for 18 hours before weigh-in, then stoke up in the five hours between weigh-in and match.

Weight watching is not the only extra pressure on the wrestlers. The sport puts the spotlight on just two men at a time, and how a man wins can be almost as important as whether he wins at all. If he pins an opponent, his team picks up six points; if he cannot pin his opponent but wins the match by outpointing him, his team will get only three or four points, depending on how much he dominated the contest. "A football player may go out and play a lousy game," says Chesbro, "but if the team wins big, he's still a hero. Not here. Every time a kid gets out on the mat, everybody knows whether he won or lost."

When a wrestler does win in Stillwater, he becomes an instant campus hero. The school comes down with "wrastlin' " fever before big matches. On the evening of a showdown with powerful Iowa State recently, the beer joints were crammed with students fueling up on draught Coors. By match time, every available space was filled in 7,100-seat Gallagher Hall--named after former O.S.U. Wrestling Coach Edward Clark Gallagher, father of the modern college sport. Once the Cowboys were introduced and started whipping their opponents, the chanting crowd exploded. Right through the final contest between 290-lb. Freshman Jimmy Jackson and his 330-lb. opponent, the din was deafening. Clearly, no one in Stillwater will settle for O.S.U.'s championship total staying at 27.

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