Wrestler Orhan Okulu Wins the Oil Wrestling Presidential Cup: When State Power Meets Cultural Heritage on the Oil Mat

The moment Orhan Okulu lifted the silver trophy on an oil-soaked mat was not merely the end of a final; it closed a long ceremony in which Turkey displayed how the state lends its authority to a national sporting heritage. From the stands, President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan stood and applauded as the trophy bearing his title was handed to the champion. I followed the sequence of rituals as an observer who has spent many years covering sports events; what made me pause was not the score, but the density of power around a folk wrestling event. First, the sport must be named correctly: this is traditional oil wrestling, Yağlı Güreş, not football. The Turkish Oil Wrestling Presidential Cup is an event where wrestlers coat themselves in olive oil to make it harder for opponents to hold them. In Vietnam, fans call it đấu vật dầu. The sport has deep roots in Ottoman culture and is traditionally staged at great festivals such as Kırkpınar in Edirne. The Presidential Cup is a ceremonial peak: it is not just a title, but a statement that the state treats folk sport as national cultural heritage. The story begins in the top weight class, the chief wrestler category known as başpehlivan. Orhan Okulu and Mustafa Taş entered the final in the tense atmosphere of a contest built on endurance, skill and tactics. According to analysis of the event data, Okulu prevailed in the most prestigious one-on-one duel and was named champion at the award ceremony. Mustafa Taş finished second. There were no goals, no stoppage time; only wrestling, oil control and attempts to pin the opponent’s back to the mat. The people around the award area showed the priority of the event. Minister of Youth and Sports Osman Aşkın Bak, a Deputy Minister, the city Governor and Turkish Traditional Wrestling Federation President İbrahim Türkiş appeared together to present the trophy to Orhan Okulu. President Erdoğan did more than attend; he took time to congratulate the wrestlers, creating a clear picture of convergence between political leadership and national sport administration. Bilal Erdoğan, President of the World Ethnosport Confederation, was also present. On the technical side, the contest between Okulu and Taş was barely mentioned in official reports. The deep analysis records only the chief wrestler category and the final result; there are no details of locking holds, wrestling time or points. This reflects the nature of an event built around festivity rather than statistical performance. Fans used to possession metrics or expected goals would find a large gap. But oil wrestling does not operate by that logic. What is really worth reading here? The answer lies in the governance layer. The head of state, a minister, a deputy minister, a governor and a federation president sitting in the same row reveals a hybrid governance model between the state and the federation. The trophy was handed over by both government officials and federation leaders, not by an independent sports body alone. For sport policy researchers, this is a clear signal: Turkey is using oil wrestling as a soft-power tool. Soft power here is not an abstraction; it appears through the annual Presidential Cup, through the presence of the World Ethnosport Confederation, and through the placement of top wrestlers alongside national cultural symbols. Sports writers can easily mislabel this article as football content because the keywords include president, cup and final. In my data system, this is the biggest risk: a wrestling story entering a football database would contaminate entities. Analysts could mistake Orhan Okulu for a footballer or Mustafa Taş for a defender, then build wrong models. I have seen too many automated systems assign the wrong subject because of a few keywords. That is the blind spot a pure sports article must check. When we read this news, we should read it as a signal from outside football: it shows how a nation uses folk sport to polish its image, not who was stronger on a grass pitch. Orhan Okulu deserves recognition, but the information value lies outside the mat more than inside it. Yet the sporting side should not be ignored. Oil wrestling has its own professional quality: balance, centre-of-gravity control and reading an opponent. Many spectators watch, but few truly understand. I believe Vietnamese sports media can learn how to narrate heritage sport from Turkey. Of course, I could be wrong to stress the power layer around the ceremony. Perhaps this was simply a well-organised tournament and the president attended because of diplomatic scheduling. Under that standard, the story is lighter: a wrestling champion receives a cup, a runner-up accepts defeat, thousands of fans cheer. I do not reject that reading. But it does not explain why a World Ethnosport Confederation president appeared at a Presidential Cup, why the Minister and Deputy Minister stood on the podium, or why the federation itself presided. When power density is that high, focusing only on the result is a form of ignoring data. On the result, observers may ask: does Okulu’s victory make him the strongest wrestler of the year? Not necessarily. A Presidential Cup is a selected contest in the chief wrestler category, but it is not a points league that settles an absolute ranking. The wrestling weight-class system and other tournaments such as Kırkpınar build long-term status. Okulu still needs to confirm his level on oil-soaked grounds before anyone calls him the king of the season. This is how I view every sport, including football: a single trophy reflects the moment, but it does not reflect full strength. When retelling this story for Vietnamese readers, I want to stress one thing: let oil wrestling tell its own story. Do not rush to call it a strange sport, do not mock wrestlers covered in oil, and do not turn it into a spectacle. For Turks, oil wrestling is heritage, family honour and a centuries-old competitive system. When President Erdoğan stood and applauded, he was not just praising one wrestler; he was endorsing a cultural narrative the government wants to accompany. The next test is whether oil wrestling can cross Turkey’s borders through the ethnosport federation system. If international festivals emerge, we will see a state-backed model of traditional sport development, entirely different from the commercial football ecosystem. For now, Orhan Okulu has entered the history of this tournament. We should remember his name, but we should also remember that the cup was placed under the shadow of power. In sport, some titles come from professionalism and some come from recognition; Okulu’s title this time sits at the intersection of two colours that are hard to separate.