The miracle on the wrestling mat

Back in 1980 in Lake Placid, there was the famous ‘Miracle on Ice’. The Americans won the ice hockey match. As underdogs. Major underdogs. The miracle against the Soviets took place in a final-round match, the one that decided the medals. Although the story is so legendary and romanticised that it makes us forget there was actually another match, won by the Yankees against Finland to secure the gold. In the days of the ‘Cold War’, every contest between the United States and the USSR – whether at team level or in individual sports – was an opportunity to politicise the rivalry and turn it into a clash.

Tomorrow marks the 26th anniversary of another miracle, known as ‘Miracolo sul tappeto’ (the Washington Post ran the headline ‘The miracle on the mat’). Once again, it was an American versus a Russian. Not a Soviet (the USSR no longer existed), but a Russian. The 2000 Sydney Olympics: the Cold War was a distant memory. In the updated medal table, following successive revocations and reallocations, the United States tops the list with 37 gold medals and 93 in total; Russia is second with 32 golds and 89 in total. A truly narrow margin. In the predictions leading up to the XXVII Olympic Games – an exercise that often goes very wrong and rarely comes close to reality – one medal that was not just certain, but absolutely, positively certain for the Russians was the one in Greco-Roman wrestling, in the 130 kg category. There was not a single person, expert or novice, who did not award it, without any ifs or buts, to the ‘Russian bear’ Aleksandr Karelin. ‘Russian bear’ is not a particularly original phrase and is often used inappropriately. Now, Karelin was so tall and massive that the comparison with a bear was perhaps a tad exaggerated. But for the bear. In Greco-Roman wrestling, being a giant bear is not the only requirement. However, it certainly helps.

The name and modern rules of this discipline originated in France during the nineteenth century. Initially, it was simply known as ‘French wrestling’ or ‘open-handed wrestling’. During the period of rediscovery of the ancient classics, sports organisers and promoters sought to lend an air of nobility to this sport and chose to link it to the traditions of hand-to-hand combat practised in ancient Greece and the Roman Empire, regarding it as the modern evolution of the ideals of strength and virility. In Greco-Roman wrestling, unlike freestyle wrestling, wrestlers are not permitted to make holds below the belt nor to actively use their legs to attack or trip their opponent. The action is concentrated on the upper body. Therefore, the contest is a test of power and technique in the arms and torso.

In all this, Aleksandr Karelin is literally unbeatable. His record speaks louder than any commentary. Karelin lost the first match of his career – the very first he ever contested – at the 1987 Soviet National Championships. He was defeated by Igor Rostorotsky. From that point on, he went 13 years without ever losing. From 1987 to 2000, no one stood a chance. From 1994 right up to the final in Sydney in 2000, the Russian did not concede a single point to his opponents. He kept them all at zero. It was a feat in itself just to move that mountain, let alone take home a point.

On the eve of the Olympic final, his senior career record is staggering: 887 victories and just one defeat. Many of these victories—practically all of those that enabled him to win three gold medals at Seoul 1988, Barcelona 1992 and Atlanta 1996, as well as nine consecutive world titles alongside 12 European golds—were secured with the famous and unbeatable ‘Karelin lift’. A devastating move, impossible to counter.

At a certain point in the bout, the Russian giant would lift enormous opponents off the ground whilst they were in a defensive position on the mat. He would then hurl them onto the mat with a reverse suplex. In itself, it was a devastating move. Even more effective, if that were needed, was the psychological terror that the lift instilled in his rivals. They stepped onto the mat already certain of the final verdict. On that occasion, on 27 September 2000, in the wrestling hall, an opponent with a different attitude stepped up to face Karelin. Rulon Gardner was as big and burly as the sole contender for the gold. He came from Afton, which at the time had fewer than two thousand inhabitants in the state of Wyoming. From a young age, he and his eight brothers and sisters had been accustomed to hard work on their parents’ farm.

In 1998, he had been one of the many athletes soundly beaten by Karenin. That time, too, it was no contest: Gardner was dominated by the Russian, who had lifted him off his feet and thrown him to the mat no fewer than three times. That defeat, however, proved extremely valuable to Rulon Gardner, who had gained an important insight: he now knew what not to do and how not to approach the match. Otherwise, he would have been number 888 under the heading: ‘Karenin’s victories’. Eight-eight-eight, a triple infinity already written in the stars for everyone. Except for Gardner, who, before Sydney, had ‘only’ been champion at the Pan American Games – twice. The bout begins without a hitch; the first period is one of caution. The score remains 0–0. Everyone—Gardner included, of course—is waiting for Karelin to unleash his trademark move, the reverse body lift. Gardner does just one thing, but he does it brilliantly: he prevents the contest from being decided by sheer strength alone. He would stand no chance otherwise. He applies constant pressure, trying to make the contest uncomfortable and gruelling.

The second round begins, and here comes the unexpected twist. According to the rules of the time, after a first round ending 0–0, the bout resumed with a compulsory hold, the clinch. The two must lock arms around each other’s torsos. It is an extremely delicate position: whoever manages to maintain the hold can score the decisive point. And this is where Gardner finds his chance. Karelin tightens his grip. Gardner resists. The two push and battle for every centimetre. Then, for a split second, the Russian’s grip slips. It is a minuscule detail. The referees halt the action and consult the replay to review the sequence. The footage confirms that Karelin has lost his grip by the narrowest of margins. The point is awarded to Gardner! For the first time in living memory, Karelin is on the back foot. Gardner no longer needs to build an attack; he must prevent Karelin from regaining the point. If only it were that easy. The Russian keeps pushing; the American holds firm. Gardner’s physical conditioning becomes just as important as his technical skill. Karelin had already fought in the quarter-finals and semi-finals earlier that very same day. He was beginning to feel the fatigue. Karelin remains an outstanding champion, exerting almost unreal physical pressure on his opponent. But Gardner does not give him the opening the Russian is looking for. And the minutes tick by. The score remains 1–0. ‘A close call,’ some might say today. Time runs out; Karelin walks away from the mat. Gardner has won. The unbeatable one… has been beaten.

Gardner prevailed primarily because he succeeded in neutralising Karelin’s strengths. The Russian was accustomed to imposing his strength, lifting his opponents and turning physical superiority into technique. Gardner, however, prevented him from finding the necessary distance and position. He did not give Karelin the kind of contest the Russian typically imposed on others. When the only real opportunity of the final presented itself, Gardner was lethal in capitalising on it. Gardner had not suddenly become stronger than Karelin; he had simply found Superman’s kryptonite and, that evening, he had used it. There would be no rematch: it had already taken place, given that they had faced each other once before. And, unlike Ali v Frazier, nobody sought to stage ‘the rematch’. At Athens 2004, Gardner went on to win the bronze. Karelin decided that this would be his final appearance. He finished with a record of 887-2. He lost the first and last matches of his career. In between, he remained unbeaten.