You often hear fans say they don't care who wins the Iditarod - as long as it's not someone from Outside. Code words for that phrase? Doug Swingley. Since he is the only Outside musher to win the Iditarod and since he is the only Outside musher regularly in contention to win.

Well, too bad for the narrow-minded, here comes Swingley again. Barring unforeseen calamity, or one whale of a Bering Sea coast storm, he was expected on Front Street early this morning.

Chalk up victory No. 2 for the Montana musher whose lead was so big with more than 300 miles to go he could coast along the coast - just as he did in 1995 when he recorded his first triumph in still-standing record time of 9 days, 2 hours, 42 minutes.

That win was a shock. More than 20 years into the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race, Alaskans had turned back all challengers. But it seemed like overnight, Swingley slipped into the elite class. He was ninth in 1992, his debut race, winning rookie of the year honors. Then he was eighth, sixth and first. Since his win, he's been second, second and ninth.

Perhaps Iditarod fans would have embraced Swingley more if he'd been gushing, giddy, or gregarious. But that is not his nature. Perhaps Swingley made Iditarod fans uneasy because they felt he hadn't paid his dues. He came from nowhere and injected himself into the mix.

Nowhere being first Simms, now Lincoln, Montana, the small, forested community near the Continental Divide that was home to Theodore Kaczynski, the Unabomber, before he was sent to prison for bombings that killed three people and wounded 22.

Trying to downplay the notoriety of the neighborhood, Swingley has joked that he is "The Unamusher."

For sure, at the moment, he is the Numero Uno musher.

In fact, by becoming the fifth musher to capture more than one Iditarod, Swingley also sets another record - oldest musher to win a title. Dick Mackey was 45 in 1978 when he won, turning 46 the following October. Swingley is 45, but turns 46 in May.

A former mink rancher, Swingley this year also won the Kuskokwim 300 in Bethel.

This makes Swingley an Iditarod and mushing fixture - from afar, afar being the operative word. You get the sense sometimes that Alaskans are wary of him because he can seem standoffish. And you get the sense Swingley doesn't know if he should trust Alaskans because, well, they remind him he is not an Alaskan.

No doubt about it, it may be hard to quantify, but the anybody-but-Doug feeling is real.

"I was surprised by the number of people who weren't as warm about his winning as I thought they would be in greeting a new champion," said Iditarod executive director Stan Hooley on Tuesday. "It still surprises me to hear that. I wouldn't characterize it as a backlash, but Alaskans as a whole have this feeling they want to keep the Iditarod to themselves and follow Alaskan mushers."

Champions of the 27 Iditarods make up a pretty small club. Champions who own multiple titles make up an even more select circle. Rick Swenson has five wins, Susan Butcher four, Martin Buser and Jeff King three each, and now Swingley has two.

Swingley ran the best race this year. His aggressive plan put him in front early and ahead of the harsh weather that blasted the other top mushers late. He cracked up a sled, but was lucky enough to do so as he declared his 24-hour layover and was able to get another old sled shipped up the trail to him.

Some called that favoritism, but race marshal Mark Nordman made the right call permitting the transfer.

Swingley deserves even more admiration if X-rays show he had the pluck to travel all the way from Wasilla nursing a busted rib or two. That's most of the 1,100 miles to Nome. Imagine the hullabaloo if Buser or King did it. What a guy! Just taped his chest and sled back together and kept on trucking.

If Swingley did not gain Alaskans' esteem with his 1995 victory, this is a second chance to charm them.

Leo Rasmussen, the former Nome mayor and president of the Iditarod Trail Committee, who is still an end-of-the-trail checker here, said he doesn't care who wins as long as it's someone who will be a worthy race front man for a year. Rasmussen makes the Iditarod champion sound like Miss America - there are obligations once you don the crown.

"Any champion who wins has to prove themselves, that they are a true champion," said Rasmussen, "out front, as the representative of Iditarod and a representative of Alaska. If he or she does nothing with it, you've lost the ballgame."

Swingley has proved himself on Alaska's most challenging race course twice. Now he should sell himself in Alaska's board rooms and auditoriums. He should press the flesh, sign autographs, and kiss babies with the same fervor as a politician seeking office.

Then, instead of viewing him as a carpetbagger, Alaskans will celebrate him as a dog driver who in 1995 and 1999 proved himself the best musher in the world.

Anchorage Daily News
Anchorage, Alaska

Friday
March 19, 1999