William “Wild Bill” Yungclas strolled across the Hilton Coliseum floor last Wednesday night twenty minutes before his beloved Cyclones tipped off against the enemy for the evening: the Missouri Tigers.He finds his second row, arena circle seat. Across the width of the hardwood, at eye level from him, the ISU coaching staff take a load off on their padded folding chairs.At 61, Wild Bill stands as erect as a 21-year-old would. His eyes purvey the horizon.The many other Cyclone fans seated in their arena, parquet and balcony seats stare back at him.It’s hard not to steal a look.Sitting atop Wild Bill’s bald head is a gold visor. His black-rimmed glasses are barely able to contain the fire that burns within his blue eyes.Connected to his white-collared shirt is a cardinal-and-gold- striped tie. Draped over his shoulders is a gold blazer that Wild Bill had tailor-made.Wild Bill hitches up his cardinal pants, further exposing his out-of-place brown boots. He claps nervously. The game is about to start.Somehow, his voice is louder than his outfit.With 13:31 left in the first half, Missouri’s Marlena Williams is called for a foul. “1-2-3 YOU BETCHA, HOO, HOO, HOO,” Wild Bill yells, hands cupped over his mouth. He is accompanied by his minions in the first row on the “YOU BETCHA” part. Their voices penetrate every corner of Hilton.Wild Bill screams, waves his gold hanky and stomps his feet for the women’s basketball team because he believes in them so much.”They personify what you want a student athlete to be,” he said. “And they’re such good people.””He’s the pied piper of women’s basketball,” said Iowa State head coach Bill Fennelly.”I could use him down in Columbus,” said Missouri head coach Cindy Stein.Wild Bill began watching ISU women’s basketball in 1985, the year the team moved to Hilton Coliseum to play its home games.He went because his young daughter Missy was interested in basketball, and because Iowa State University has been a part of his family since 1968.His mother’s uncle was the first to get a degree here, back in 1968. His grand-niece her’s in 1999.When he first started going to games, there were more people on staff at Hilton than fans in the seats.”I felt I had to yell for 12,000 people,” Wild Bill said.And the former Big 8 Tournament was even less sprinkled with cardinal and gold.A newspaper in Salina, Kan., where the tournament used to be held, ran a story on the only two ISU fans in attendance at the 1987 Women’s Big 8 Tournament: Wild Bill and Missy.The headline described it best: “Shooting from the Lip.””It’s important for a fan to be a fanatic,” he said. “Fans should work just as hard as the players do.”Wild Bill does. He runs 2-3 miles three times a week to keep in shape “for the season.” He does crunches. He does push-ups. He even takes a nap before every home game.Because of his fervor and his antics, Wild Bill is often mocked by other fans when he goes on the road. It does not bother him however. “If they’re bugged by me, that’s their problem,” he said.Most fans are not, however. A couple of years ago at the Big 12 Tournament, Wild Bill was approached by three different sets of Texas Tech fans who offered to buy him drinks after the game. They were impressed by his attitude for women’s basketball.”They just appreciate that you’re a fan,” he said.He goes to men’s games on occasion. He enjoys the games when he is there, but he thinks there is an ambiance of “tension” at men’s games, where at women’s games “families have fun.” “Sit down, Paul, you big turkey,” he yells across the way at Nebraska’s head coach Paul Sanderford, Jan. 13, deciding ears of all ages can hear what he has to say.Sanderford was trying to discuss a call with an official during their game with the Cyclones at the moment. Wild Bill does not have anything against Sanderford. “If [the coaches] work the refs, we work them,” he said.In fact, Sanderford gets a nod of approval from him. Wild Bill believes Nebraska plays good, hard-nosed defense. He cannot say the same about Kansas.”Marian coaches players to play unnecessarily rough,” Wild Bill said of the Jayhawks’ 27-year head coach Marian Washington. Asked to further explain himself, he said, “You just observe it. When [former Cyclone guard] Stacy Frese was here, they just clobbered her.”Wild Bill may have even gotten to Washington. He said that once she yelled at him during a game.Washington said that the only way she would acknowledge a fan while a game is in progress, is if the fan was “totally disrespectful.” She would not comment any further.Wild Bill simply added, “She doesn’t like me, and I don’t like her either.”And that is where the dichotomy that is Wild Bill sets in.He is a man who is known across the state for his work in the United Church of Christ.He is the moderator at his local church. And he is a co-chair of fund-raising for a local church camp.Yet he yelled to a referee during the Nebraska game (a game the Cornhuskers lost 89-46) that “you don’t have to be sympathetic because they’re lousy.” And he admitted that during a game against Kansas, other ISU fans criticized him for “picking on Marian Washington too much.”Wild Bill justifies it by explaining he has always tried to put the rants in the most positive context. He believes he is just doing his part to give the Cyclones the home team advantage.”I can be vociferous, yet positive,” Wild Bill said.He yells constantly at every game, no matter how far the Cyclones are ahead or behind. “I have to play 40 minutes. I don’t get a substitute,” he saidBecause of that, the courtside seat for the press that is directly below him is usually empty. He loves to be a fan.But it perturbs him that other ISU fans do not pace themselves.He said that some drunk Iowa State students were trying to pump up the crowd before the Kansas football game in Lawrence last year.”And man, they didn’t last a quarter,” Wild Bill said, shaking his head in disgust. “I would never drink before a game.”Rookies.With Iowa State leading Missouri 60-52 with 6:36 left in the game on Wednesday night, Wild Bill sits on the edge of his seat. His shoulders are slumped, and his knuckles rest on his spread legs. He watches every move intently.He does so until the final buzzer. The Cyclones escape with a 68-67 win. Wild Bill mouths the final statistics over the deafening crowd to his wife of 38 years, Barbara, who sits by him and keeps the stats from the first half in black pen and the second half in red.He breathes a sigh of relief. He heads out of the arena and into his cardinal pick-up truck with gold lining. He heads to his house two blocks west of the football field. A street light illuminates his license plate. It reads: “WYLD BILL.”