Turkey's
Version of Wrestlemania
By STEPHEN KINZER
 THERE is only one wrestling tournament in
the world at which contestants use tons of olive oil. It
is held each year in western Turkey, and its tradition
reaches far back into history.
Rules for the matches have changed only slightly over
the years. In olden times, some bouts went on for hours
or even days, since the only way to win was to pin one's
opponent to the ground. Some contestants expended so much
energy that they died on the field. Now it is also
possible to win on points, and matches are stopped after
45 minutes.
But in most other ways, the one-on-one combats staged
every summer closely resemble the first ones held nearly
700 years ago. Wrestlers are stripped to the waist, wear
specially designed leather trousers and enjoy the
boundless respect of their countrymen. Most important,
they begin fighting only after being drenched with olive
oil from head to toe. Three tons are consumed this way at
each year's tournament.
Oil wrestling tournaments have been held in Turkey
every year since the first ones were staged as tests of
strength for Ottoman soldiers and amusements for their
rulers. This year's, which will be the 640th, will be
held from Friday to Sunday. Now the three-day event is
not simply a sporting test but a festival that attracts a
colorful cross section of Turkey, from gypsy families who
camp near the stadium to appliance manufacturers who
display their newest refrigerators and microwave ovens.
It reveals an aspect of this multifaceted country that
many visitors miss.
Although Turkey is in many ways a modern nation that
embraces its European heritage, it still revels in its
ancient Turkish history. Many of the same Turks who cheer
for soccer or basketball teams also love the three
traditional sports that reflect the Central Asian origin
of Turkish peoples. One is camel fighting, another is the
fast-moving horsemanship and javelin-throwing competition
called cirit, and the third and perhaps most evocative is
oil wrestling.
The Ottoman Empire is often thought to have been
established in 1453, when Sultan Mehmet II crushed
Christian Byzantium by conquering its capital,
Constantinople (now Istanbul), and establishing a Muslim
dynasty in its place. But in fact the Ottoman house was
founded by Sultan Osman more than a century and a half
earlier, and it was during his reign that the first oil
wrestling tournaments were organized. They were held, as
they are today, on the outskirts of Edirne, the Thracian
city formerly known as Adrianople.
Edirne is near Turkey's border with Greece, two hours
west of Istanbul by car, and the rented minivan in which
I made the trip with a few friends last year passed
through the plains where Osman and other early Ottoman
sultans marshaled their troops for expeditions that would
ultimately propel them to world leadership. Today the
city of around 150,000 is out of the mainstream, and not
visited by many tourists. That is unfortunate because it
boasts some fine architectural treasures, including a
grand mosque built by the 16th-century architect Sinan
that some connoisseurs consider the finest in Turkey. But
at the beginning of each summer, Edirne attracts
thousands of people who watch some of the country's most
admired athletes test their skills.
After parking our van, my friends and I walked toward
the concrete stadium. A veritable carnival had sprung up
on the adjacent grounds. It was centered around an entire
circus, complete with scary rides for kids. Bypassing the
circus, I spent an hour walking past scores of booths
that sold an extraordinary combination of wonderful
crafts like hand-painted ceramic plates and intricately
carved chess and backgammon sets, juxtaposed with great
amounts of kitsch like plastic kites decorated with
skull-and-crossbones motifs and heart-shaped red pillows
embroidered with "I Love You" in English.
As is common when large numbers of people gather in
Turkey, some of the picnics spread out by women for their
families looked overwhelmingly appealing, better than
what one could find in any restaurant. But I knew from
experience that it is dangerous to stop and admire these
homemade banquets, because one will inevitably be invited
to sit and join in. Then one is a prisoner for hours,
eating marvelously but unable to say goodbye.
So we walked slowly past, eating only what vendors
were selling. I bought a sandwich made of lamb meatballs,
onions, sliced tomatoes and spicy peppers, while one of
my friends wolfed down a chicken kebab.
In the background we could hear rhythmic drumming from
the stadium. We stopped to see two exhibits of photos of
oil wrestlers that were certainly not intended to be
homoerotic, but seemed so nonetheless; the sport is said
to have developed a gay following in recent years.
We had bought tickets in advance, and found our gate
by one of the photo shows. An usher showed us to our
seats and brusquely refused to take my proffered tip.
This was the third and final day of the tournament, and
we had come to see its climax.
The wrestlers were powerfully built, but looked
nothing like the intricately toned men who display their
physiques in bodybuilding magazines. At one side of the
quadrangular grassy field, a corps of volunteers doused
each contestant's naked chest, back and shoulders with
oil, which is supposed to make the competition more
difficult than ordinary wrestling, a sport in which many
of these fighters also compete. Once oiled, the
combatants skip across the field in lines, about half a
dozen at a time, slapping their knees and jumping as they
move forward. Each man faces off against his designated
opponent.
Several matches take place at once, each with its own
referee. Points are won by turning a rival upside down,
pinning one of his shoulders to the ground or executing
other maneuvers.
Because the matches last so long, they seem more like
stylized dances than quick-paced contests. Thankfully, it
is not necessary to understand the rules to appreciate
the surges of activity and seemingly calm lulls, which
the fighters use to gain subtle tactical and
psychological advantage.
Matches go on for most of the day, and spectators
watch respectfully. Many take this tournament very
seriously, occasionally breaking into cries of
encouragement, triumph or anguish but otherwise
remarkably focused.
Besides the drumming, the matches are accompanied by
recitals of traditional poetry. Announcers sing the
praises of "Ye, oh great wrestlers" and recite
verses with lines like these:
Every woman can give birth,
But not every boy can be a wrestler.
The undisputed king of modern oil wrestling is a
former factory worker named Ahmet Tasci. Considered a
superman because he continues to win even though he is
well over 40, he is an eight-time champion in the
heavyweight division. The only man to have defeated him
in the last decade is a whippersnapper in his mid-30's
named Cengiz Elbeye. Ideally, the two should face off in
the final match; the tournament I saw featured what the
man sitting next to me called "an early final"
as the two drew each other as rivals in the
quarterfinals.
More than 700 contestants participate in the oil
wrestling tournament, most of them in the free-weight
category but also youngsters, some not yet into their
teens, who are classed by age. The eyes of every
aficionado, however, were on these two as they faced each
other. It was the classic confrontation of an aging
champion with a rising challenger.
The match had been under way for more than half an
hour when suddenly, so fast I am not sure I actually saw
it, the veteran Tasci smashed his younger opponent to the
ground, pinned his shoulders and was pronounced the
winner yet again. He had effectively won his ninth title.
Elbeye, his defeated rival, remained on his knees with
his face pressed to the ground for several minutes. I
couldn't tell if his face was wet from tears or oil. That
is certainly how he wanted it.
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