The dream Reese died for shouldn't die with him

Those margins widened last month with the sudden passing of Michigan wrestler Jefferey Reese. With the exception of those close to the Michigan athletic department - in that case a large part of this University - very few of us understand the implications of Reese's death.

There is something deeper here, making this loss even more painful than usual: the loss of a teammate. Once again, the margins have been extended further.

I have only been to two funerals in my life, the last one eight years ago. Death is something I can't fully comprehend. But anyone who has played a sport at any time in their lives, be it Pee Wee League baseball or NFL football, understands the loss of a teammate. We all know the bond that's formed among teammates during a season or a career spent together in uniform.

Alan Goldenbach The Bronx Bomber

Take, for example, Joe McFarland, one of Michigan's assistant wrestling coaches. McFarland, a man who has been receiving mounds of flak in the public eye for his apparent "carelessness" regarding Reese's training habits in his final hours, is someone for whom this team bond is as strong as anyone's.

McFarland was not even supposed to be with Reese during the Michigan junior's final and fateful workout. Michigan's second-winningest wrestler of all-time, McFarland's dedication to the Wolverines is almost as difficult to put into words as it is to give Reese's obituary its proper justice.

After completing his eligibility at Michigan in 1985, McFarland turned to coaching. He served as an assistant at Indiana from 1987-89 before taking the head coaching reins for the next three seasons.

Under McFarland's leadership, Indiana produced three All-Americas, an NCAA champion and conference titles each of his three seasons. He was also named Big Ten Coach of the Year his rookie season.

Then this Michigan man tightened his affinity for this school. He took hierarchical demotion from his previous job to become an assistant to his former mentor Dale Bahr at Michigan. But in his mind, returning to Michigan was a promotion that far exceeded any gain in power.

McFarland is not married. His family is Michigan wrestling. The night Reese died, McFarland was just hanging around with part of his family. The team had just finished working out for the day and all of the wrestlers, except Reese, had weighed in for their upcoming match.

When McFarland found out that Reese hadn't weighed in yet, he just decided to hang around, to keep the young wrestler company while he was working out.

He could have gone home and left Reese - who would've died alone - but he didn't. Reese was family to McFarland, and staying around to provide a little conversation for his relative was almost instinctive for the Michigan wrestling legend.

Imagine the horror Reese's teammates would have encountered, coming into the weight room the following morning and seeing their teammate lying dead, drained of the energy that forms the bond between teammates.

Conceiving of that sight is almost as difficult as imagining anyone losing their life doing what they loved most, doing what they had committed their life to perfecting.

The only thing comparable to losing a life in pursuit of a dream is losing control of that dream altogether. The pursuit of a dream is what gives life its vigor. The pursuit of a dream is what pushed Jefferey Reese to ridiculous treatment of his body.

University Athletic Director Tom Goss flirted with destroying that dream for the Michigan wrestling team. He threatened to eliminate the wrestling program altogether, thus stopping the dreams of the Wolverines in progress.

"If we could not make the sport safe," Goss said, "we would have ended the program."

Fortunately for the Wolverines, as well as wrestlers everywhere, the NCAA passed new rules regarding the conditioning standards and weigh-in schedules of wrestlers. The dreams of established All-Americas such as Jeff Catrabone and Airron Richardson, as well as precocious freshmen were kept alive.

So were those of Joe McFarland.

Goss cannot allow fatal conditions to persist for his athletes, but he also must remember that this is college - where dreams are supposed to be fulfilled, not destroyed.

- Alan Goldenbach can be reached via e-mail at agold@umich.edu

01-20-98