Murderball muscles into Paralympics

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Chinese wheelchair rugby coach Wen Yan, left, prepares her players for today's competition against Team USA.

By Calum MacLeod, USA TODAY

BEIJING — Zhang Wenli hit rock bottom, quite literally, in 1994. Diving into shallow water, she broke her neck and became a quadriplegic, unable to walk and with reduced use of her arms. For the next 12 years, the former sports teacher felt trapped at home in eastern China — and useless.

That is, until a violent sport — and its gung-ho American stars — changed her life.

Today, Zhang lines up against her heroes as Team China plays Team USA, the gold-medal favorites, in the opening battle of Murderball, aka wheelchair rugby, a clashing contact sport set to take the Paralympic Games by storm — and smash stereotypes about people with disabilities.

The sport, invented in Canada in the late 1970s by a group of quadriplegic athletes who wanted an alternative to wheelchair basketball, hit the headlines with the 2005 U.S. documentary Murderball.

The award-winner at the Sundance Film Festival showed audiences what wheelchair users can do and helped push the game globally into the fastest-growing wheelchair sport. Men and women can play on the same team in the game, which shows how sport and cinema can transcend language barriers. Nineteen countries field national teams.

China is among the newcomers to the sport. When the country started to build a team from scratch in 2006, scouts in Zhang's eastern province of Shandong asked her to try out.

"I doubted I could play, the game seemed so fierce," she remembers. Then she watched Murderball. And again, and again.

"I've seen it dozens of times. I don't understand what they are saying, as my English is poor, but I can feel the atmosphere and understand the lead athlete's situation," says Zhang, 40, speaking in Mandarin. "They are saying, 'We are not patients or victims, we are independent athletes.' And now I am representing my country."

China has screened the film for its squad multiple times, team official Xin Yue says. "They love it. Many of our athletes did not think they could ever be independent and so strong in their bodies," he says.

Coach Wen Yan, 57, who sports a long ponytail and a longer history as a soldier and basketball coach to the military, says wheelchair rugby has been key to rebuilding the spirits and lives of her players.

"In just a few seconds, these people became disabled by serious accidents," she says. "Afterward, they felt depressed. They often underestimated themselves and felt inferior. But now, after training, they have recovered and wear a bright smile. We expect to come in last of the eight teams at this tournament, but we will show our spirit and enjoy the experience."

Cui Maoshan was depressed and hospital-bound in southwest Yunnan province when officials from China's federation for disabled people visited him last year. He broke his neck in 2006 in a fall at a building site. He had never heard of rugby, known as "olive ball" in China, let alone the wheelchair version.

Cui will play for his country in today's game after a year of full-time training. "I am not depressed now, but feel great and proud," he says. His only regret is that his wife and two children, back in their home village, have never seen him play. The cost of traveling to Beijing is too high, but he expects them to watch on television.

Mark Zupan, the U.S. team captain and tattooed Texan whose life, including his love life, is documented in Murderball, is delighted with the response to the film.

Murderball "bridges so many gaps that it doesn't matter what language you speak. The film brings disability to the forefront," says Zupan, 32, of Austin, who was disabled from an auto accident at 18. "Ten minutes into the film, you don't see the wheelchairs, you just see athletes."

Beijing student Zhang Peng, a volunteer at the wheelchair rugby training venue, agrees. "I used to think disabled people were a bit mysterious, and I had little contact with them. But once I saw them playing, I didn't think they were disabled at all. The game is so exciting. They are just like able-bodied people. I realize they are just like us and want equal treatment, not sympathy," he says.

Zhang, the only female player on Team China's 12-person roster, wants a photo with Zupan after today's game. "I worship him," she says.

Zupan warns that she will get no leniency on the court because she's a woman. "Girl or guy, if you're in my way, get out, or I'll move you out of the way," he says. There'll be trash-talking, too, he warns.

Zhang is unfazed. "I won't understand if any foreign player insults me. On the court, no one considers me a woman. The intensity and excitement is the charm of rugby," she says. "It will shock people that quadriplegics can play such an exciting game. That's what I hope the Paralympics will bring to China."

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A way of life for Alaskans on ice skates

Donna Cooley, right, has a 12-year-old who plays hockey and houses a player for the Alaska Avalanche, an amateur team in Wasilla.

(Jim Wilson/The New York Times)

By Kim Severson

WASILLA, Alaska: Like many parents here in the communities near Anchorage, Sarah Palin raised her older children in hockey rinks.

Powered on white mochas and an aerobics class or two, Palin, now the governor of Alaska and the Republican nominee for vice president, would drive to rinks at all hours, children in tow. She sometimes ran the scoreboard, let hockey players from other cities sleep on the floor of her home and got involved in the management of her eldest son's teams.

But last Friday night, two longtime and once promising young players — Palin's eldest, Track, and her soon to be son-in-law, Levi Johnston — were absent from the hockey arena in Wasilla as the coaches made the final cuts for the new season of the area's elite amateur team, the Alaska Avalanche.

Track Palin, 19, is being deployed this week to Iraq with the army, after separating his shoulder and abruptly giving up on a hockey career last year. Johnston, 18, who is about to become a father, has dropped out of Wasilla High School and also quit hockey.

"He just lost his way," said Dan Johnston, who is a second cousin to Johnston and a hockey parent himself.

Although hockey players enjoy a reputation as rowdy partiers at many high schools, the sport often keeps children here on the straight and narrow, much the way football and basketball do in other places. When Dan Johnston sold raffle tickets for his son's team, his sales slogan was, "Help keep the kids on the ice and off the streets."

But hockey can also be a roiling pressure cooker, full of big expectations and even bigger disappointments, especially across south-central Alaska where the sport is highly competitive and many parents harbor hopes that their children might get a college scholarship and maybe even make it to the National Hockey League.

If football dominates Friday nights in rural Texas, hockey dominates here.

"All of us basically raise our kids here from August to March," said Donna Cooley, who has an out-of-town Avalanche player as a boarder and a 12-year-old son who plays. "We call the kids 'rink rats,' and we all miss each other when the season ends."

To understand hockey in Alaska is to understand something about the Palin family dynamic: Athletic drive seems to be as much a family trait as churchgoing and salmon fishing.

Palin's father was a popular cross-country coach. She was a high school basketball star who married Todd Palin, a high school jock who has remained an athlete as an adult. Palin is a four-time winner of the Iron Dog snowmobile race, something akin to Nascar elsewhere in terms of its local celebrity.

Wasilla's four-year-old sports complex, where the Avalanche and other teams play, is a $15 million legacy from the days when Palin was mayor. The house that Sarah built — named after one of her best friends who died in a plane crash — was secured with a sales tax increase. And even before Track Palin was in elementary school, his parents had him on skates.

In more rural parts of the state, where gyms instead of hockey rinks were built with the rush of oil money in the 1980s, basketball is the favored sport. But in and around Anchorage, particularly in wealthier high schools, hockey is everything.

With $400 skates, $150 sticks and hundreds of dollars more for pads and gloves, outfitting a skater can cost well over $1,000. Add in ice time, league fees and the cost of travel in and out of this state, and some families with elite high school players can spend $15,000 a year.

Parents with especially talented skaters or with enough money or both often do what the Palins eventually did with Track Palin: Write a check and send him to hockey development programs out of state. Housed with teammates, the boys go to local high schools and play on sponsored teams intended to attract attention from college recruiters.

In 2006, the year Palin was elected governor, Steve Lowe snatched up Track Palin for a slot on the developmental AAA team he coaches in Kalamazoo, Michigan Lowe liked that Palin, a forward, was extremely focused and aggressive on the ice. If he could manage his temper a little and improve his shooting, it was clear that Palin could have secured a college scholarship and maybe a chance at the pros, he said.

The temper was a longstanding problem. Hockey is a raw sport, but Palin pushed the limits and often got kicked out of games in Wasilla and at least once in Michigan. The parents who had watched him grow up on the ice said he was popular with his teammates and generally a pretty good student. But on the ice, he was an animal.

Curt Menard, a longtime family friend, said he would often sit next to Palin's parents to watch their grandson play. If Menard arrived after the game started, he said, he would ask if he was too late to catch him.

"Track has a temper so sometimes you'd only see him half the game," Menard said. "Get there late and he'd already be out."

Whatever his behavior on the ice, Palin's parents did not meddle, Lowe said.

"There are some hockey moms who live their dream through their son," he said. "Sarah wasn't like that. She pretty much loved to watch her son and was engulfed with his level of play, but she let me coach."

Meanwhile, Levi Johnston was following the path set by Track Palin and other recent Wasilla High School students. He was part of a generation of players who were finally getting enough skill to challenge the teams from better-off schools in South Anchorage. Although people here say the Palins and Johnstons were not particularly close, the families became connected in part by hockey.

Adele Morgan, a longtime friend of Palin's, said that she would ask her what was going on between Johnston and Palin's eldest daughter, Bristol, and that Palin would say they were just friends. But people at the hockey rink said they had been dating for well over a year.

Last week, Palin announced that Bristol Palin, 17, was five months pregnant and that she and Johnston were engaged to be married.

Johnston was considered a very good player, though not as good as Palin. He was tough, playing the last game of Wasilla High School's season in February, while a junior, with a cracked tibia.

Dan Johnston, the second cousin, said Levi Johnston felt pressure to perform in the rink and clashed with his father over hockey several times. "He threw all his gear in the burn pile once," Dan Johnston said.

In the end, hockey did not work for Levi Johnston. His grades slipped, he left school and he quit playing altogether.

The dream for Track Palin unraveled, too, starting when he separated his shoulder in Michigan. By March 2007, he was back with his family and that spring graduated from Wasilla High School. He had shoulder surgery, and the Avalanche offered him a playing slot, said the team's general manager, Jamie Smith.

But that summer, Smith said, Track Palin called him and said that his shoulder was not better and that he was going to enlist in the army instead.

Palin 's coach in Michigan, Lowe, said he thought the shoulder was fine.

"He talked to me about that," Lowe said. "I said, 'Are you sure, Track?' He said, 'They want me to play, coach, but this is what I want to do.' "

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Brigham Young blowout of UCLA is one for the books

Gina Ferazzi / Los Angeles Times

UCLA Coach Rick Neuheisel reacts after the Bruins fumbled for the second time in the second quarter Saturday against Brigham Young.

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Just about everything that can go wrong for the Bruins does as BYU quarterback Max Hall passes for seven touchdowns in UCLA's worst loss since 1929.

PROVO, Utah -- Relentlessly optimistic ran into harsh reality Saturday.

There may come a day when the football monopoly in Los Angeles is over, but for now UCLA has enough trouble passing "Go."

An embarrassing 59-0 loss to Brigham Young was a big indication of that, and left first-year Coach Rick Neuheisel offering up his favorite catch phrase in a different light.

"We're going to test 'relentlessly optimistic,' " Neuheisel said after UCLA's worst loss since 1929. "But we knew it would be tested."

It was Saturday.

Tested and failed.

Brigham Young's Max Hall passed for six touchdowns and UCLA turned the ball over three times and had a field-goal attempt blocked.

And that was only in the first half.

By the time the 18th-ranked Cougars (3-0) had put on the finishing touches at LaVell Edwards Stadium, Hall had a school-record-tying seven touchdown passes, and the Bruins had quite a long must-improve-on-this list.

"We have to really work on the faults we had in this game," defensive end Korey Bosworth said. "This game is past, it's over, we can't dwell on it."

It was hardly the ideal bounce the Bruins (1-1) needed heading into conference play next week against Arizona. UCLA coaches and players will dissect the game film over the next couple of days, but they were already certain what they were going to see.

"A butt whoopin'. We got our butts whooped," linebacker Reggie Carter said. "I'm going home, go to sleep, and tomorrow forget about it. It will be on my mind a little bit because we'll have to watch film. After that, we have to get ready for Arizona."

Saturday's game was a chance for UCLA to show that its 27-24 season-opening upset over Tennessee was more than an anomaly. Instead, the Bruins showed that they haven't improved much since taking a 44-6 drubbing at Utah last season.

That game was the harbinger for a disappointing season that cost Karl Dorrell his job.

Neuheisel arrived and has preached relentless optimism in his first season.

There was little of that to be found in the rubble of the Bruins' worst defeat since losing to USC, 76-0, 79 years ago.

"We always strive on trying to keep people out of the end zone and that didn't happen today in any stretch of the imagination," defensive coordinator DeWayne Walker said. "It was a very humbling experience."

The message written on the board in the Bruins' locker room afterward read: "Adversity builds character."

There was plenty to build on.

The defense was picked apart by Hall. The offense gained nine yards rushing and turned the ball over three times. The special teams lost a fumble and had a field-goal attempt blocked.

Other than that, it was a perfectly executed game . . . by BYU.

The Cougars, whose 13-game winning streak is the longest in the nation, are eyeballing a Bowl Championship Series bowl game and could ill-afford a slip-up.

"I think we're one of the best teams in the nation," said receiver Austin Collie, who had 10 receptions for 110 yards and two touchdowns. "Those that don't believe it, I think we proved it today."

The Cougars certainly made a strong case for themselves.

Hall's day was done with six minutes left in the third quarter. The Bruins' was over before that, when BYU scored 35 second-quarter points.

Hall, who completed 27 of 35 passes for 271 yards, wasted little time getting started. He completed all six of his passes on an 11-play, 75-yard touchdown drive on the Cougars' first possession. He directed an 80-yard drive for a 14-0 lead on BYU's third possession.

UCLA managed to get into BYU territory early in the second quarter when Kevin Craft completed a 10-yard pass to Corey Harkey. But the Bruins went to ruins immediately.

Craft was sacked on the next play, taking a 10-yard loss. He then lost a fumble on the play after that. On the play after that, Hall went to Collie for a 37-yard touchdown. The rest was a blur for UCLA.

Raymond Carter fumbled on the next possession. Hall threw a touchdown pass.

Terrence Austin fumbled the ensuing kickoff return. Hall threw a touchdown pass.

The pain was repetitive.

"It should hurt, it should sting," Neuheisel said. "It should be a better motivator for next week. At some point, you do have to let it go."

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