Jan. 22, 2004: Provo Daily Herald

With Major Financial Support, Wasatch is One of Nation's Best
by Jason Franchuk

America hasn't been the land of opportunity wrestler Erkin Tadzhimetov envisioned when he moved here from Uzbekistan. He has been called a liar while countering that he was "screwed." He has been $500 short of curing his homesickness. He's failed to pass English tests that would have likely made his journey much shorter than it's been.

As a 23-year-old junior at UVSC, Tadzhimetov is getting the college education he wants. The national championship, however, has been more difficult.

He has switched American colleges -- three times. Not just for an award, but for the immigrant's dream -- the right to pursue happiness.

Tadzhimetov never imagined coming here would be this tough. But he gave up Olympic dreams back home for what he hoped would be a more prosperous existence away from Uzbekistan.

"Life is harder back home," Tadzhimetov said. "I wanted to come here, wrestle, get an education."

When he arrived at UVSC to start the fall semester, he decided to change from being a business major. He opted instead to switch to health/physical education so that he could focus his academic energies on being a coach.

"Stick with what I know," Tadzhimetov said.

He also knows pain and heartbreak, having come to America to visit friends in New York only to find himself in a small Missouri town before landing in a small Kansas town as he tried to achieve his goal of being a successful college wrestler.

Wrestling has been the easy part. But off the mat, he has grappled with issues of money, language proficiency and trust.

"He put a lot on the line to come out here," said UVSC coach Cody Sanderson.

Truth and lies in rural America

Tadzhimetov grew up in Tashkent, the capital city of Uzbekistan. He is the oldest of four boys of a mother who runs a "little restaurant" and a father who does electronics repairs.

It was not the easiest life, so when Tadzhimetov saw signs pointing toward his exclusion from the national wrestling team (he called the decision based more on politics and money than on talent), he decided to come to America.

He had grown up in Uzbekistan's Olympic Sports School, but decided that home was no longer the place for him. While visiting with old friends in New York, he met a college wrestling coach from Ukraine. The coach couldn't use Erkin at his school, but knew a program that might be interested. He was guided toward Warrensburg, Mo., and Central Missouri State University, a solid Division II program.

This, according to CMSU coach Robin Ersland, is when the lying started. The coach says Tadzhimetov told him he could speak proficient English and that he could wrestle at the 125-pound weight.

Neither turned out to be exactly true.

Tadzhimetov hardly spoke the language. When he arrived in Missouri in 2001, he could say hello and that was about it. As for his weight, Tadzhimetov struggled, according to Ersland, with keeping at 125 pounds, a frustrating thing because the athlete wanted to wrestle at 133 pounds but that slot was already filled.

"We already had a good 133," Ersland said. "We probably wouldn't have recruited him if that's the weight he would want to be."

After the first semester, Tadzhimetov's stay in Warrensburg was crumbling. He had trouble making weight, yet still carried an 18-1 record into regionals. The rest of his time at CMSU boils down to finger pointing and accusations.

Was it OK for Erkin to be on a bike, trying to shave pounds before his first match, rather than be in the weigh-in room at a particular time?

The top four placers from each class advanced to the national tournament. Tadzhimetov was the champion; that is, until the coach of the fifth-place finisher won a protest because Erkin did not follow the weigh-in guidelines.

"They screwed me," Tadzhimetov says of the CMSU coaches, who he felt should have had better knowledge of the rules.

Says Ersland: "Check your facts before you write anything. There's Erkin's truth and then there's everyone else's."

Tadzhimetov felt burned from the error that kept him from competing for a national title. It's a title Ersland is sure he would have won.

"He defeated the eventual national champion that season and three times he pinned the runner-up," Ersland said.

But Tadzhimetov never got the chance, and when he did not pass English equivalency tests, his time at CMSU was doomed. He had used 24 credit hours taking intensive English courses at the school. Those, however, could not be used to keep him eligible for his sophomore season. He would have to take standard courses. But first he would have to pass a proficiency exam. Three times he said he took the standardized test, each time finishing a little better but still just short.

Because he didn't pass the test, he was not allowed to pursue regular courses at Central Missouri State. The wrestler and his first school parted ways. His old coach remains angry.

Colby Community College coach Steve Lampe knows both sides well, and recalls hearing from a boiling mad Ersland when Tadzhimetov decided to leave Warrensburg for the small school in western Kansas. Lampe figured the wrestler had no choice.

"He's a great kid," Lampe said. "He was stuck in a difficult situation. He's new to the country and all of a sudden he's told he can't be on scholarship anymore. Put yourself in his situation and you'd probably do the same thing."

Colby is a national power for a school its size and had three other Uzbekistan wrestlers on the team. There, Tadzhimetov started to feel like America was a good place for him. His English improved. He went 43-2. His only regret? Not winning a national title. He finished second to Paul Collum of Iowa Central Community College who is now a nationally ranked junior at Missouri. Tadzhimetov beat Collum twice earlier in that season.

"I wish I would have won that match," Tadzhimetov says. "I should have beaten him."

Still, he had so much going for him, Lampe thought. The kid was doing well on and off the mat, enjoying life with three other athletes from his country while also adjusting to American culture. Lampe said he's had seven foreign wrestlers, including Tadzhimetov, who have had a grade point average of 3.31 (on a 4.0 scale) during their time in Colby. He seemed prepared to get the degree he always yearned for.

"It's amazing," Lampe said. "The foreign kids, their work ethics are outstanding. Erkin is one of those guys. They come (to America) and their big concern is getting their degree. It means very much to them."

Though Tadzhimetov would be starting his third year of college and had no more junior college eligibility, Lampe thought he would return to Colby to get a degree and work as an assistant coach. Instead, Erkin met a coach named Sanderson and an opportunity called UVSC.

"He was in a hurry to get his transcript," Lampe said. "He was in Arizona and had worked with a kid from Iowa State who used to know Cody. I thought Erkin was going to come back and help us. He would have made a great assistant coach. But he decided he wanted to keep wrestling in Utah."

It was another summer of upheaval for Tadzhimetov, who worked tirelessly to try and earn enough money so that he could return home to see his family again. He raised about $2,500, but not enough.

"I think that was tough for him," Sanderson said. "I don't think there's a time he calls home that his mom doesn't cry."

Third school's a charm

They are the perfect match, really. Young, ambitious, driven by the desire to succeed at wrestling -- Tadzhimetov found the place, and the coach, he's always wanted in America.

In Sanderson, Erkin has a friend and, just as importantly, a challenging practice partner. Sanderson, 27, is a former star at Iowa State, a proud member of Utah's Sanderson wrestling family (it's kind of like being in the lineage to Shula football or Alou baseball). He was NCAA runner-up twice at Tadzhimetov's weight, 133 pounds.

Tadzhimetov works with Sanderson essentially every day. His coach is the man who drives him, teaches him and molds him to be the best he can. This is someone the boy from Uzbekistan trusts.

"I like him a lot," Tadzhimetov said. "He's a good, good coach. He's young and smart and I can learn a lot."

Sanderson raves about the pupil, his hip strength that is second to none on the team. His work ethic ranks up there, too. Someone does not come, Sanderson notes, from a foreign country with nothing in tow and no concept of the language just to slough off when they finally arrive.

"He wants to work hard; he wants to learn," Sanderson said.

America is sinking in.

He used to abhor national fare, grimacing at the sight of a hamburger or pizza. He'd rather eat lighter food, more vegetables, like he did back home. Now, between classes, he can sometimes be found at a mall food court.

"I like that stuff now," the wrestler said.

On the mat, he can be found winning. Heading into today's tri-meet against Western Wyoming and the Colorado School of Mines, he is 17-6 and has been nationally ranked by one publication. Not bad for the first year in Division I, both for him and the school. Sanderson's only concern is to see him improve.

"He has a tendency to revert back to what he knows when the moment gets tough," Sanderson said.

Tadzhimetov understands what the coach is saying.

"I'm working on new things so I get better," Tadzhimetov said.

He is a young man, a young wrestler, still learning his way.