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Just one of the boys: Girl wrestler bends
tradition in boys-only sport

The Associated Press
November 25, 1998,
Wednesday, PM cycle

High school wrestler Sarah Tolin is bucking
tradition in a boys-only sport. In fact, she is pinning it to the mat.

The Wyoming High School Activities Association recently
decided to allow girls to petition the association to participate in boys'
football
and wrestling, the Casper Star-Tribune reported.

The association approved the petition rule after Tolin
asked the group to allow her to participate in wrestling this school year.
But Tolin, a
junior at Kelly Walsh High School in Casper, still has a
fight to win on the gym floor.

She has been practicing with the team for the past two
weeks, and at 5-foot-3 and 112 pounds, the pony-tailed Tolin is easy to spot
on
the wrestling mat.

When the coach yells for everyone to pair up, she is the
last to find a partner.

And the guys don't go easy on her.

"When I wrestle her, I go out there and show her why
it's a guy's sport," said teammate Chad Jackson.

Some of her fellow wrestlers think she should have tried
to start a women's wrestling team before joining the boys.

Some contend it is unfair that boys are still prohibited
from playing girls' sports. The association does not allow boys to
participate in girls'
volleyball or gymnastics.

Many are just trying to get used to the idea of a girl
on their team.

"It's just different," said teammate Ryan Erdahl. "But
we'll still treat her the same."

Tolin said she realizes she is now the poster child for
equal rights in sports, but she is quick to say that she is not trying to
prove any point.
She just likes to wrestle.

"I like being aggressive," Tolin said, tightening up the
rubber band holding her hair back.

Tolin is no beginner to the sport. She has been an
amateur wrestler for five years, earning titles such as Wyoming State Girls
Free style
Champion and 1998 outstanding wrestler at the Rocky
Mountain Regional Senior Women's Division tournament. Last June, she placed
fifth at the Cadet Women's National Championships in
Louisiana.

She said she likes the respect that comes with being the
team's lady wrestler.

"Sometimes people in class say things like, 'Watch out
for her,"' she said.

And it's not awkward to toss her male teammates around.

"I'm used to it," she said. "And it's gotten a lot
easier, more guys respect me now."

Her father, Donald Tolin, said he is proud of his
daughter's perseverance.

"We've worked on this for two years and we feel good
that we were able to accomplish this without having to litigate it," he
said.

His daughter is no tomboy, he said. She is a member of
Job's Daughters, plays viola in the school orchestra and is a student
council
member.

Wrestling is a family tradition. Tolin's older sister is
a former wrestling manager, her parents are wrestling officials and her
older and
younger brothers are wrestlers.

Glen Legler, athletic director at Natrona County High
School, said he expects the petition rule to create problems.

"I think the earlier rule was set up to protect girls'
sports ... and to also protect girls," he said.

Now it is a matter of time before guys petition to play
female sports, he said.

"I think this opens up a whole can of worms," he said.

November 25, 1998
-----------------------------------

Girl wrestlers have grips on boys

March 26, 1996,

I remember Chaney Ray when she was just a kid. Thin
as a
cattail wand, a headful of lank, whitish hair, big blue
eyes.

Quiet and diffident.

Chaney's grandparents, Stan and Barbara Brenton, live
next
door to the house where I grew up in Boulder, Colo., so
I used
to see her often.

Chaney, 16, and her family moved from Colorado to
Richland,
Wash., in 1990, but I had the pleasure of eating dinner
with
her and four generations of her family last Christmas
Eve.

She's bright as ever and has inherited a bit of her
grandfather's wry humor. I wasn't surprised to find that
she
is an accomplished violinist and dressage rider.

I was surprised to hear she's a wrestler. Yup,
soft-spoken
Chaney Ray wrestles for the Richland (Wash.) High School
Bombers - along with five other girls. Not a girls
wrestling
team. The wrestling team. The Bombers.

The season's over now, and Chaney ended up with a 7-1
record,
wrestling as a 101-pounder. But that record's a little
deceiving: Six of those wins were forfeits by boys who,
ummm .

. . maybe Chaney can explain:

""Well, they say I'm intimidating,'' she said. ""Maybe
because
they are scared to lose to a girl. ''

Chaney told her school newspaper that one of the great
rewards
of wrestling is ""the way guys look at you right after
you beat
them. ''

And the downside?

""The discrimination against women,'' she said. ""Not to
mention
having to watch my weight. ''

Does this make Richland, Wash., home of the famed
Hanford
Nuclear Reservation (hence, the name Bombers and the
school
logo, a mushroom cloud) the unrecognized galactic center
of
gender equality?

Uh, not exactly. Richland High School wrestling coach
John
Mecham mumbles that girls ""have every right to
participate''
but has said he won't return to coach next year if girls
are
allowed to wrestle boys. He bases his objections on
religious
beliefs.

""He starts going off on how it's inappropriate for
girls and
guys to be in such close contact,'' she said. ""He says
God says
it's not good. ''

I guess you can't fault someone for deep-seated beliefs.
On
the other hand, when you are working in a public school,
it's
inappropriate to let your personal beliefs goad you into
blatant discrimination. Chaney ticked off examples:
Chaney
added that Coach Mecham threatened to kick girls off the
team
for attending a nonschool meet that boys have been
allowed to
compete in.

He gruffly pronounces that boys are better suited to
wrestling
based on genetic predisposition for upper-body strength.

Chaney disagrees: ""Look at my weight class: I am at
least as
strong as guys in my weight class, because they haven't
matured yet. ''

I also think ol' Coach - and anybody else who's shocked
at the
notion - should take a closer look at the alleged sordid
nature of boys rasslin' girls. His implication is that
such
close contact might excite members of one or the other
sex.

I don't think so. I'm remembering my own, brief,
junior-high
wrestling days: Face smooshed in some guy's sweaty neck,
grunting, knees skidding on mats - pretty romantic
stuff.

And if it is a sin for boys and girls to ""rassle'' like
that, I
can't imagine how Coach can justify boys rasslin' boys .

But see? It's just an excuse. Wrestling doesn't have
anything
to do with sex, as wrestlers can attest. That notion is
a
concoction of Coach Mecham's own tawdry imagination. I
know
his wrestlers, male and female, aren't in it for the
sensual
pleasure.

The issue is equality. If there are girls who are able
to
compete and make the wrestling squad, then there is no
good
reason to keep them off the team.

The female wrestlers of Richland High aren't
inappropriate in
the least. But maybe their coach is.

I know Chaney Ray plans to be back on the team next
year. If
Coach Mecham quits - and he should, if he feels that
strongly
- then she will have added another pin to her record.

March 27, 1996

--------------------------

These girls take down barriers;
Girls wrestlers show what they're made of in Far West
Championships.

The Fresno Bee

July 1, 1995
Saturday

Sure, it's nice to wrestle somebody of the same gender.
But it's even better to beat one of the opposite sex.

That was the consensus of the girls competing at the
first Far West Girls Wrestling Championships Friday at Selland Arena.

"I like it when boys cry," bragged Marcie Van Duser, a
14-year-old from Lake Arrowhead who beat 40 boys this year in freestyle.

Sanger's Rosanna Trujillo, 10, agreed, saying, "They
throw a fit, and I feel really good."

Boys vs. girls wrestling can be a touchy subject in
these parts, but it's something coaches and wrestlers are having to deal
with and accept
as the ranks increase.

"I think we'll have a girls division eventually down the
road," said Sanger Warpath Wrestling Club coach Dale Phillips. "A lot of
coaches
don't like it, but they might as well get used to it.
It's here to stay."

The girls seem to mind less than the boys.

"They're more of a challenge," said Van Duser, who
thinks of her male opponents as "just another person."

"I'd rather wrestle guys because it's a little more
difficult," said Christina Ventre, who hopes to crack the Porterville High
team as a junior.

Some of the boys aren't handling it so well.

"A lot of the time the boys, they're teasing me because
I'm a girl," Trujillo said.

Van Duser went through the same thing when she started
four years ago, according to her dad, Tom. "At first, the boys didn't
respect her
(but) now they do."

Ventre, 16, has gained respect from former Olympian Tim
Vanni of Porterville, but she had to work for it like anyone else.

"He really didn't talk to me at first -- he kind of
figured I'd quit in a week like the rest of the girls that went out," said
Ventre, who pinned
Oregon's Christina Hickey in the 117-pound final.

"But he's been helping me since then."

A lot of these girls got started in the living room with
older brothers, like Amber Gomez, a 10-year-old from Rock Springs, Wyo.

"Sometimes, I can beat up my brother, so they thought I
could wrestle," said Gomez, beaming after winning her first match ever, a
10-9
victory over Monica Olguin of San Diego. "My mom wasn't
sure, but she might have changed her mind now."

Teresa Buxton, the 16-year-old 125 1/2 regional champion
from Yamhill, Ore., started wrestling with her brothers as well but hasn't
wrestled another boy yet outside practice.

"It's going to be hard," she said. "I don't know what
they're going to tell me. I haven't asked yet."

If they're anything like Trujillo's mom, it won't be a
problem.

"I think it's wonderful," Karen Trujillo said.
"Honestly, at first it's like, 'Oooh, that's my baby girl.' But I'm like
that with all my kids."

USA Wrestling referee Kelly Jolley, after working all
the girls' matches, was a believer of the girls' movement.

"I think it's awesome," Jolley said. "Some of these
girls are tougher than the boys."

July 3, 1995

-----------------------------------------------

'SHE'S JUST ANOTHER TEAMMATE'

The Idaho Statesman

February 21,
1995, Tuesday

Freshman girl wrestler causes some to grapple with issue

The announcement came over the Les Bois Junior High
loudspeaker one morning:

Any boys interested in wrestling for Boise High School
this winter should meet coach Dennis Konrad today after school...

Stacy Ditlove, a precocious 14-year-old freshman who
describes herself by such words as unique and independent, didn't like what
she
heard.

Boys?, she thought. Why does it have to be just boys?
Why can't I wrestle?

She met with Konrad, found an answer she liked, and a
few weeks later entered the Braves' wrestling room for the first time.

No one noticed. The wrestlers thought Ditlove was a
manager. Or a trainer. Not a wrestler.

They noticed Ditlove take her place on the mat. They've
noticed her keep it. They've noticed her work ethic during the grueling
practices.

Now, in the ultimate compliment, they rarely notice her
at all. She's just one of the guys.

Her situation brings an issue to the table: Should girls
be allowed to play in traditionally boys sports, such as wrestling? Girls
don't have
their own wrestling teams because there aren't enough of
them to field teams, so boys must either wrestle girls or forfeit.

It's a complex question strung out by the often polar
emotions of parents, coaches, players and teammates. And, somewhere amidst
that
complex web of emotion, there are the girls and boys
themselves.

Most of the kids aren't making a political statement.
They just want to wrestle.

Across town from Boise High School, in the Idaho High
School Activities Association offices, executive director Bill Young is
tangling with
the same issue.

Like Stacy's parents, Bill and Ronnie Ditlove, the IHSAA
grudgingly gives girls the right to wrestle. Currently, there are 12 girls
participating in Idaho high school wrestling programs.
Gender equity

"It's a real problem," Young says. "It's just not a good
situation. If girls could wrestle girls it would be OK, but a lot of people
feel girls
wrestling with boys is not proper. They aren't
comfortable because of the sex difference."

Despite the reservations of what Young says are "many
coaches and players," the IHSAA allows but does not promote girls wrestling.

The reason?

Gender equity. The IHSAA's position says if a girl wants
to participate in a sport, and her school does not offer a girls' program in
that
sport, then she can try out for the boys program.

Wrestling and football, traditionally reserved for
males, are the sports most affected but there are other situations.

"If a school, for instance, has a boys basketball team
and not a girls basketball team, any girl in the school can try out for the
boys team,"
Young says. "We will not ban them from participating in
a sport."

But, he says, "we don't encourage it" either.

The issue doesn't just affect the high schools it
reaches to every age group.

The USA Wrestling program now has a national women's
team. One of its members is 23-year-old Andrea Carsten of Boise. Carsten
routinely works out with the Boise State wrestling team,
practicing for USA Wrestling meets throughout the world.

Youth wrestling programs also grapple with the growing
trend. Gene Hodges, chairman for Idaho for USA Wrestling, says there are
currently about 25 girls wrestling amidst 2,500 boys in
the state's youth programs.

"There's a lot more of it than eight years ago when I
got involved," Hodges says. "The girls meet with a lot more acceptance than
what you
might imagine. There are just a few isolated instances
where someone thought it wasn't appropriate.

"I'm absolutely astounded by that. The perception was
that wrestling was a last male bastion that would last forever. But as soon
as that
idea was challenged the attitude was 'Great, let's try
it."'

This year, in response to the growing numbers, the
Western Regional Wrestling Championships will hold a separate girls
division.

"I think part of it is that girls used to use it as a
political statement," Hodges says. "But now I think their reasons are more
honorable now,
and everyone realizes that." The kids

Things are going smoothly Friday afternoon as the Boise
Braves practice for today's match with Centennial.

Coach Dennis Konrad is barking instructions, his
baritone booming off the low ceiling and padded walls.

Suddenly, he stops.

"Where's Stacy at?" he yells.

The room is quiet for a moment before one of the
wrestlers says, "She quit, coach."

Konrad shakes his head, refusing to be fooled. "Aw, come
on, she never quits!"

On cue, Ditlove arrives from the drinking fountain,
plops down with partner Andrew Hamblin, and resumes her practice.

Hamblin, like other boy wrestlers The Statesman
interviewed, doesn't have a problem with girls wrestling.

"I think it's OK," the freshman says. "At first I didn't
think she was going to be a regular member of the team, but now she is.
She's just
another teammate."

He admits, however, that some male wrestlers have taken
issue with Ditlove's presence.

"They have a different way of thinking," he says. "They
have a different mentality about it. It's just something they're not used
to.

"Some guys don't want to wrestle a girl, they think it's
embarrassing. But they can forfeit if they want although in most cases
that's even
more embarrassing."

Ditlove, he says, is just like everyone else. Which is
fine with her.

"I don't want any special treatment," she says. "I've
heard a lot of my friends say they feel sorry for the guys because it's
worse for them
they might get beat by a girl.

"I take offense to that, because when you are wrestling
it's not boy vs. girls or boy vs. boy, it's just two people wrestling.

"That's all it should be."

The boys aren't the only ones with reservations.
Ditlove's parents, Bill and Ronnie, attended her first practice.

"It was totally embarrassing," Stacy says. "I went to
them and said, 'Mom, dad, I don't see anyone else's parents here!'

"But they weren't really comfortable with the idea, so
they had to see for themselves it would be all right."

Stacy's parents aren't entirely comfortable with the
notion of their daughter wrestling. They keep close watch, and won't say
whether they'll
allow her to wrestle in the future.

And Stacy, who says she wrestles for the competition and n't know if she will herself. But for now...

"Hey, I'm having a lot of fun," she says. "I'm enjoying
it. And that's what I care about right now."

h School ch Dennis Konrad today after school...