News Page



IN HER HOT-PINK JUMPER, AMANDA, 7, KICKS BUTT

 

The Morning Call
(Allentown) December 4, 1994,


Wearing a hot-pink jumper and her blonde hair pulled
back from her face, 7-year-old Amanda Feist wastes no time dropping her
opponent to the mat.

She crouches low, smiles mischievously, then lunges for
the boy's knees and forces his shoulder blades downward. He closes his eyes
as
she lifts her head for the call. The coach slaps the
mat. It's a pin.

It's the first pin of the night for Amanda, but
wrestling practice has just started. Before it ends two hours later, there
are several more.

A wrestler for the Mountainville Memorial Youth team in
the East Penn Youth League, Amanda won a spot on the varsity squad. Last
month, she competed in three tournaments and placed
third in all of them.

Now, coaches in the East Penn league want to exclude
girls from competition, leaving Amanda with a team but no opportunity to
compete.


"Her heart is broke," said Betty Feist, Amanda's mother.
"She doesn't understand."

Neither do her coaches.

"I was kind of shocked they don't want her to wrestle,"
said Karl Giandomenico, a coach and president of the Mountainville Wrestling
Association. "She's as competitive as any guy on the
team."

Maybe more so.

During warm-up, Amanda is grace in this room of big
feet, hard steps and loud voices. Like a gazelle, she races around the mat,
her hair
flapping behind her.

"Keep your elbows in and heads up," a coach yells to the
group. Amanda listens, pulling her arms to her sides and lifting her small
chin.

"She always give us her 100 percent," said coach Brian
Christy.

If Amanda feels out of place in this sea of buzz
haircuts and changing voices, she doesn't let on. She's just one of the boys
in a pink leotard.


"She kicks butt," admitted 8-year-old Ian Dodson.

These boys are not bothered by a girl among them. They
are proud of her. It is the men, the coaches of other league teams, who
object.

Bruce Wehr, president of the youth league, said some
coaches would rather see the league disband than let a girl wrestle. She
might win,
he said.

"As a young boy, it would hurt their ego more if they're
beat by a girl and other boys would give them a ribbing," he explained.

"Coaches are also concerned that a girl could be hurt
wrestling," he said.

Mountainville coach Giandomenico believes the whole
thing is ridiculous. "They're just afraid she's going to beat their boys,"
he said. "In my
opinion, they're doing an injustice to her and to the
sport."

 

February 15, 1996

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


TAYLOR IS PART OF THE TEAM

The Morning Call (Allentown)

December 4, 1994,

 


Taylor Wilson looks like every other wrestler in the
windowless room beneath the gymnasium at Bangor Junior High School. Only her
blond ponytail betrays her gender.

The bones in her shoulders jut from the shirt she wears
beneath her one-piece uniform. Pulling her long, thin legs to her chin, she
sits at the
edge of the mat unaware that at the age of 10 she is
defying gender lines and making some parents nervous and fearful that their
son will
have to face her on the mat.

This fifth-grader, whose spunk surprises her parents and
Bangor Wrestling Club coaches, has never heard of Gloria Steinem, cares
nothing
for an Equal Rights Amendment and at her age has never
worn a bra to burn. She does not endure the taunts of male teammates or
silent
stares from their parents to cast aside locker room
tales that boys are better than girls.

No. Taylor just wants to wrestle.

"I wanted to try something new," she said, sitting in
the living room of her home after practice.

Wearing a Pearl Jam shirt over jeans, Taylor, who admits
she's a bit of a tomboy, said she's been a cheerleader, plays softball, and
likes to
swim and in-line skate. But she had never wrestled.

Her decision to put on a maroon singlet and face
reluctant opponents three times a week during practice caught even her
parents off guard.
"My first reaction was to say, 'No, we don't want you to
get hurt,'" said Bob Wilson, her father. "I found myself choking on those
words,
because I didn't want to tell her she couldn't do
something because she's a girl."

It wasn't supposed to happen. When permission slips were
passed out at school, only boys were told they'd need their parents'
signatures
to wrestle. But a boy who wasn't interested gave his to
Taylor and she took it home. That night, Taylor pulled the crumpled form
from her
book bag and told her parents she'd like to wrestle.

Her mother, JoAnn, had some reservations. "Initially, I
thought, 'Why not basketball?'" she said. But her daughter was persistent.
"We're
proud of her as long as she wants to be involved.

"It hasn't been easy," Mrs. Wilson added. "You get
stomachaches thinking about someone hurting her feelings, but she holds her
own."

Indeed. The other night at practice Taylor spent a few
bouts on her back but managed to pin one opponent two times and score some
points off a more senior boy. Opposite a boy clad in
aqua and black, Taylor lets her opponent escape from a hold then tries for a
takedown. She spins, but the boy is faster and leaps
from her grasp.

The coaches, she said, have treated her like every other
novice wrestler in the room and have tried to encourage the other boys to do
the
same.

Later at practice, standing near the wall, Taylor covers
her mouth to suppress a giggle. The gesture seems out of place in this hot
room
dank with sweat, where a bloody nose is worn like a
patch of glory and tears are forbidden.

A man in a Cowboys shirt barks, "Keep your head up" to
someone on the mat. The sharp blast of a whistle cuts through the cacophony,
ending a bout between two young boys.

Taylor is an unlikely interloper. Her winsome smile,
large brown eyes and freckled nose would make any parent's heart ache when
she
admits that other boys have told her she's no good and
the mat is no place for a girl. At 10, she doesn't understand that life is
sometimes
unfair, people can be cruel and not everyone admires her
choice. Those are hard lessons she will learn later. For now, she just wants
to be
on the team.

"I didn't think the boys would make fun of me," she
said, shaking her head, a bit incredulous that she would be shunned for
following her
heart. "I thought they'd be nicer. But I ignore them. I
don't let them get to me. I try and finish what I went out for."

 

February 15, 1996
----------------------------------------------------------------------


WELCOME MAT NOT ALWAYS OUT FOR GIRL WRESTLERS

The Morning Call
(Allentown)

December 4, 1994,


Seven-year-old Amanda Feist keeps her dolls on a bedroom
shelf in her Allentown home. In the dining room, she displays the trophies
she's won wrestling in local tournaments.

She sleeps with her trophies.

Once considered an all-male sport, more and more girls
are putting on headgear and going out for the wrestling squad. Tired of
cheerleading and softball, some say they want to try
something new. Others, sisters or daughters of former wrestlers, say it's
what they've
always known.

Either way, their entry into the sport has sparked
debate in the hallways of high school wrestling leagues, leaving coaches
tied in knots over
the appropriateness of females in singlets.

Last week, the Bangor School District shot down a
request by two high school girls to join the wrestling team, saying it might
cause
problems.

Juniors Jessica Bysher and Lixa Santana have collected
100 signatures from students and teachers in their support. "I've cheered,
I've
played softball. Wrestling has a lot to do with
technique," Bysher said. "I never did it before, and I thought I should have
been given the
chance."

Senior high school Principal Arlene Multhauf says her
position is supported by federal law. Under Title IX of the Federal
Education Act, a
school district can exclude a girl from a "contact"
sport, she says.

Bysher and Santana are not alone.

In the Diocese of Allentown, Bethlehem Catholic High
School sophomore Katie Schnorrbusch plans to file a complaint with the Human
Relations Commission after she was told she couldn't
wrestle.

Schnorrbusch said she transferred from All Saints
Regional High School in Phillipsburg to Becahi specifically because she was
told she
could wrestle.

"Wrestling is more of a personal challenge," said
Schnorrbusch, who wrestled for All Saints before that high school closed
last year. "It is
up to you and not the whole team to go out there and
win."

Becahi Principal Richard Culver said the decision to cut
Katie was made by Bishop Thomas Welsh.

The Rev. John Mraz, assistant superintendent for
secondary school districts in the diocese, said the bishop believes girls
wrestling boys
would be "unseemly considering the intimate nature of
the sport." Surprisingly, one of the biggest proponents of co-ed wrestling
is a man
who almost got beat by a girl in seventh grade.

"I'm definitely an equalist," said Jody Karam, head
wrestling coach at Liberty High School in Bethlehem. In fact, Karam believes
all sports
should be co-ed and says he would welcome a girl on his
team, but so far no female has signed up.

Easton freshman wrestling coach Gene Smith says he sees
nothing wrong with having a girl on the squad. In fact, a 14-year-old girl
wrestled in Easton 20 years ago.

She didn't qualify for a place on the varsity or
freshman teams, but wrestled in exhibition matches, he said. "She was no
different than any
other kid on the team," he said. "I think once the
novelty wears off for the other kids that this is a girl, she can become a
member of the
squad like anyone else."

In Pen Argyl, Athletic Director Jim Tiernan said several
girls have gone out for the wrestling team over the years but usually have
quit after
a few practices and become a team manager. "When you ask
a girl to do what you have to do just to practice for wrestling, they can't
keep up," he said.

Tiernan said he lets girls find out for themselves that
they're not competitive against boys at the high school level. "It's a tough
decision to
make to tell a kid they can't do something. I have a
tough time excluding anyone from anything," he said.

Jim Thorpe wrestling coach Glenn Serfass has several
girls on his junior varsity team. "I find that between knee-high all the way
up to the
freshman level it's very good for girls," he said.
"After ninth grade, boys become stronger than girls."

That's because at the age of about 12, boys begin to
produce testosterone, a hormone that among other things builds muscles.

And how do boys feel about having to wrestle girls?

Russ Best said when he was 15 he had to wrestle a girl
in an exhibition match. The Bangor wrestler won in 18 seconds but believes
he lost
the respect of his team. That was bad, but getting beat
by a girl would be worse, he said. "Either way, it's a lose-lose situation."

Jim Brisky, another Bangor wrestler, doesn't think it's
a problem. "I'm all in favor of it," he said. "Why shouldn't they be
allowed? It's all
part of the growing sport."

At the Talon Wrestling Club in Bethlehem, eight women
ages 12 to 24 share mat space with men and at times even work out with them.
"We're getting girls who want to wrestle," said Director
Patrick Tocci Sr. "Some of them are older and realize that there wasn't a
place for
them in high school."

There are all-women leagues and a national women's
freestyle wrestling team that practices in Colorado. Tocci said there is
little difference
between moves and holds used by men and women.

"When we show them a move, they want to be demonstrated
on just like the guys," he said. "The girls want to be treated as wrestlers,
not
as women in the sport."

February 15, 1996

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

DEFEATED BOYS CAN LEARN, TOO


The Morning Call
(Allentown)

December 29, 1994,


To the Editor:

Congratulations to Bill White, who, in his Dec. 19
column helped point out some of the "goofuses" in several area school
districts. The
"goofus" who really got my goat, however, involved East
Penn Youth League president, Bruce Wehr, and what he had to say about
7-year-old Amanda Feist wrestling with boys of the same
age. Why would it bother someone if a girl competed with a boy of the same
age, and won? I think that something such as a girl
winning in a league meet is truly inconsequential. Personally, I'd like to
see Amanda beat
some of those boys. And if the boys have a bruised ego,
then I suppose that they must learn that throughout their lives, there will
be
women who compete against them, and win.


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

Yes, that's a girl out there

The Boston Herald

February 6, 1994
Sunday


Brandy MacMillen and athletics never mixed. In fact,
until recently, the Holbrook High junior had been considered somewhat of a
couch
potato.

But as quickly as it took MacMillen to jump off the sofa
and throw on a pair of wrestling shoes, she suddenly became one of the most
talked about jocks in the school.

It may be considered a little out of the ordinary for a
young lady, but wrestling is actually the first sport MacMillen ever tried a
hand at in
her 16 years. As the 112-pound wrestler for the
Bulldogs, MacMillen is only one of several females participating in a high
school
wrestling program in the state. With the number of
female participants on the rise, Framingham, Holliston, Silver Lake, Quincy
and
Tri-County are other area schools that include females
on their wrestling squads. As the team manager a year ago, MacMillen was
there
to attend each and every meet. She became so intrigued
by the sport that she decided she was going to be a part of it, even if it
is a male
dominated sport.

Holbrook coach Ken Turner remembers when MacMillen made
her arrival to the team.

'She just said that she had been sort of a couch girl
and that it was something she really wanted to do,' Turner recalled. 'And
she's been
great so far.'

'I knew it was an all-boys sport,' adds MacMillen, 'but
it looked really fun. The one thing I know about (wrestling) is that you
have to have
guts to do it.'

MacMillen has not won a match yet this season, but she
is anything but a disappointment to her coach or her team. When MacMillen
gets
on the mat, she is always less experienced than her
opponent. Therefore, her goal is to survive.

'She can't seem to win but she doesn't get pinned
either,' added Turner. 'She's only been pinned once this season. The thing
about her is
that she always lasts the entire match. She's like a
worm out there and a worm wiggles. When she gets in trouble, she -- squirms
out of it.'

The most rewarding part of the entire experience is the
support that she gets from her male teammates, her coach, and her parents.
It is the
kind of incentive that will get MacMillen back on the
mat next year.

The growing population of female wrestlers could be
attributed to various things, but Holliston coach Paul Capobianco knows why
he has
two on his JV squad.

'I think the biggest reason for it is that it's a huge
challenge,' says Capobianco. 'As far as being in shape and keeping up with
it, its a
tremendous physical challenge to these girls to be able
to compete in a sport like this.'

Such seems to be the case with Framingham's 125-pounder
Heather Ryder, one of the top female tri-atheletes in the country. Success
on
the mat for Ryder could cause the number of female
wrestlers to rise in future seasons. She recently won her first varsity
match.

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



STILL WRESTLING WITH ANDY KAUFMAN

The Record June 11, 1993;


Accusing a comedian of being crazy is usually a high
compliment. In
the case of Andy Kaufman, the eccentric performer most
widely remembered
as Latka on the series "Taxi," the word may be too
accurate.

In the latter days of his career, the comedian lived out
his
proclaimed fantasy of becoming a big-time wrestler, with
a twist. On TV
talk shows and on tour, he wrestled female volunteers
from the audience,
promising them a cash prize if they could beat him. They
never did.

Kaufman's wrestling escapades are the subject of
Shanachie
Entertainment's "Andy Kaufman: I'm From Hollywood" (60
minutes, $ 24.98),
and it's one of the strangest tapes you'll ever see.
None of Kaufman's
network material from "Saturday Night Live" or David
Letterman's "Late
Night" (two of his biggest TV forums) is here. Instead,
the producers
have relied on local TV sports broadcasts (primarily in
Memphis, scene
of many of his matches), nightclub performances, and
news accounts of
Kaufman's exploits. There are even some home video
tapings, fascinating
stuff but of mediocre image quality.

You may remember that Kaufman, who died in 1984, liked
to tease and
exasperate his audience. His wrestling career took
audience-baiting to
unprecedented heights. The inability of women to defeat
him in the ring,
he insisted, was evidence of their physical inferiority.
His
inflammatory remarks were in the tradition of wrestling
braggadocio, and
he had women howling for his blood.

Soon a feud developed between Kaufman and professional
wrestler
Jerry Lawler, who said Kaufman was mocking his sport.
The Yankee from
Hollywood was certainly mocking the South in general and
Memphis in
particular. At one point, Kaufman appears in a tape
apparently intended
for Memphis TV stations in which he instructs
Southerners on how to use
soap, razors, and toilet paper.

Several matches with Lawler are shown, including the
encounter in
which Kaufman winds up hospitalized and in a neck brace.
One highlight
of their feud is recounted only in newspaper clippings,
their joint
appearance on the Letterman show, when Lawler struck
Kaufman and the
comedian exploded with a string of obscenities.

Was it just an extended put-on, like so much else about
pro
wrestling? Maybe it started out that way, but even
Kaufman's friends
seen here are uncomfortable at the proportions of the
joke. Tony Danza,
Marilu Henner, and Robin Williams, all speaking several
years after
Kaufman's death, testify to his comic gifts but remain
perplexed by his
behavior.

One person on the tape says Kaufman realized his
happiest moments
when being jeered by 10,000 irate wrestling fans. "I'm
From Hollywood"
provides plenty of evidence for that view.