The Ultimate Winner

Too, there's a certain magic surrounding Gable. "I'm entranced by the sport," he says. "I'm in awe of it." And the sport is in awe of him. Gary Kurdelmeier, assistant athletic director at Iowa and a former Hawkeye wrestling coach, says, "There's nothing as dead as last year's hero. But with Gable, it isn't respect for what he's done but for what he's doing." Says Bob Dellinger, director of the National Wrestling Hall of Fame in Stillwater, Okla., "He's a messiah."

Only a few coaches come along who spark utter devotion the way Gable does. Bear Bryant was one. Joe Paterno is one. The list is very short because far too many other coaches mistake fear for respect. Woody Hayes made that mistake. There's a big difference between fear and respect, and athletes detect it immediately.

As the guru of U.S. wrestling, Gable has an undeniable recruiting advantage in that most of the best high school wrestlers would love to have the opportunity to learn at his knee. Yet Gable's forte is his ability to take average wrestlers, like Chuck Yagla and Bruce Kinseth, and turn them into champs. Yagla, who was a pet project of then assistant coach Gable, won national championships at 150 pounds in '75 and '76, and Kinseth also took the 150-pound title, in '79. Each won outstanding wrestler honors at the NCAA tournament, as did Gable, who was a high school wrestler of average ability, very average, but with a heart as big as the Iowa outdoors.

Few coaches have the presence that Gable does. When he walks into a wrestling room, business picks right up, right now. All eyes follow him. And his eyes follow the wrestlers' every move. Now Gable is helping over on the weight machines where someone is having trouble getting the equipment set for the proper poundage. "I'll do it," says Gable. And he does, silently adding some 20 pounds to what the wrestler intended. "Too heavy?" asks Gable, innocently. The wrestler says nothing. "Let me know if it's too heavy," says Gable, helpfully. The point, of course, is this: Do you want to be the wrestler who tells Dan Gable—Dan Gable!—that something is too heavy? Do you want to be the wrestler to tell him that the days are too long and the nights are too short? Says Gable, who used to work out day and night, "One thing is that if one of my wrestlers loses, he has to face me." God, what could be worse?

Oklahoma coach Stan Abel says of Gable, "It's like he's a brand name." Mike Chapman, a longtime Iowa journalist and author of articles and books on Gable, says, "I'm not sure if he knows he's one in a billion. He simply transcends the sport. He'll become folklore and legend." Gable already is folklore and legend. This is the second time he has been named Olympic freestyle coach, and while the committee went through the charade of waiting for all the applications to come in and then following all the selection procedures, the fact is, Gable was the only possible choice. Second choice was Gable, third choice was Gable, fourth choice was Gable.... Jim Zalesky, undefeated last year at Iowa and a three-time NCAA champ at 158 pounds, says, "He makes us believe that the most important thing we do isn't the winning but the preparation we put into winning. It's magic."

Gable is able to work this magic because he doesn't dwell on himself. "I" is a very small word in the Gable vocabulary, and it's never writ large. He doesn't call up his glories past, even when he's trying to inspire his team; Munich isn't a conversational centerpiece for him. That was yesterday, and yesterdays don't count anymore.

Indeed, even faint hints of reliving old times irritate Gable. To this day, at age 35, Gable is still the roughest, toughest, orneriest, meanest, best wrestler in the room. You can still whip 'em all, ain't that right, Dan?

"Well, I think wrestlers can tell a lot from the determined, excited expression on my face," he says. "They know I'm excited about their wrestling."

And you can still whip them all?

"I can't believe I won as much as I did knowing as little as I did. I should have been much more accomplished."