Source: The Boston Globe
Getting a grip
Small-town shows give wrestlers with big-time ambitions a chance to perform while they are learning the ropes
By Russell Contreras, Globe Staff
It’s a rainy Friday night. A pack of drenched teens stand at the door of the Social Naturalization Club in Lawrence, drying off and waiting for friends. Rushing around them to the entrance is Crystal Mendes , a 20-something mother who is carrying her 5-month-old infant, A.J. Behind them wait 52-year-old Lawrence resident Charles Woodard and his wife, Lisa.
They all get tickets, then walk into a function hall that regularly plays host to quinceañeras and wedding receptions. But on this night, the audience won’t find any cake. In the middle of the room is a wrestling ring — turnbuckles, ropes, and all — just like the type shown on TV.
“Welcome back to the Wrestling Federation of America!” an announcer yells through a microphone. “Tonight, there will be a Big House Stampede Battle Royal!” The night’s other matches, the announcer tells the crowd of around 50 people, include a title bout, a tag-team fight, and a special match where the losing wrestler has to “kiss” the winner’s bare bottom.
“Are you ready?” the announcer asks.
A few claps.
“I said, `Are you ready?’ ” he repeats. More claps come, along with a few screams. And thus the evening of carefully crafted face stomping, punching, body slamming, trash talking, and wild acrobatics begins.
While most may be familiar with the antics of World Wrestling Entertainment (WWE), in New England a handful of independent wrestling groups hold smaller versions of pro wrestling events in intimate venues in small towns. These minor league renditions are usually held in American Legion halls and community centers, and can draw as many as 200 people. (On Friday night, for example, Malden will host a “Summer Showdown” event at the Irish-American Club, put on by United States Wrestling Foundation Championship Wrestling). Like the WWE events, the local shows are filled with gimmicks like caged matches and story lines where divisions between the faces (good guys) and the heels (bad guys) are obvious.
For fans, these minor-league events are an opportunity to experience a clothesline takedown up close or see blood trickle down a wrestler’s nose. Where else can one hear an open fist slam the bare chest so vividly, or see close-up the effects of a body slam?
“It’s more real” than the WWE, says long time fan Charles Woodard, while dancing to the entrance music of wrestler “El Boricua” Danny Diaz . “Everything is in your face.”
For the performers, it’s a chance to hone skills — as actors, as athletes — with the hopes of getting noticed and making it to the WWE one day. That’s the goal of wrestlers like Tuff Gagnon . On his way to chasing his dream, Gagnon has to endure the small crowds, the taunting of irate fans, and the fear that, despite shedding blood during a performance, only a few people may remember his name.
Before a recent match in Lawrence, Gagnon grabs the microphone from the announcer to remind fans who he is.
“My name is Tuff Gagnon,” he says, the microphone cutting off his sentence due to an electrical short. The crowd laughs. He tries again. “And tonight I will prove just how tough . . . ”
Again, the mike goes out. The crowd continues to laugh. An unfazed Gagnon tosses the microphone and completes his promo by yelling. He wins his match.
Steve Bradley , the owner of WFA and a former WWE wrestler, says getting to the “Big Show” is the aspiration of all his performers.
“It’s a matter of keep plugging and not giving up,” says Bradley, who also serves as mentor.
Click the play button below to hear Russell Contreras interviewing WFA owner Steve Bradley on breaking into the professional wrestling business
Bradley says most of his wrestlers have other full-time jobs, but train almost three hours each day. That’s not counting weight lifting and working on acting skills, he says. The wrestlers are paid after each show based on ticket sales.
In addition to the WFA, Bradley also runs Top Rope Pro Wrestling Academy, a pro wrestling school in Manchester, N.H., that teaches aspiring wrestlers the basics of the art, like how to “hurt” your opponent without actually hurting him. Once the grapplers pick up those essentials, they start building characters. Telling a story in the ring is the toughest part to learn about the business, says Bradley.
According to Bradley, strong characters give crowds reasons to cheer and boo before the first punch is thrown. At the Lawrence event, there is a tag team known as The Metro Men — a group of self-described metrosexuals who wear pink Banana Republic shirts and khakis. They enter the ring to Bloodhound Gang’s song, “The Discovery Channel,” and gyrate against the ring post. A group of teens blurt out derogatory remarks.
The Metro Men’s opponents, Los Mexicanos, are acrobatic masked men who enter to mariachi music and chant “Mexico!” over and over. Their chants have even Woodard and other fans yelling “Mexico!” In the end, the Metro Men are no match for Los Mexicanos, who end up winning by a clean pin after a few moves of trickery.
Next up is “Golden Greek” Alex Arion versus “Straight Edge” Brian Fury — the bout where the loser has to “kiss” the winner’s bare bottom. For nearly 20 minutes, the men go back and forth, and eventually they end up fighting outside the ring. With the crowd cheering on Fury, Arion gets a little help from some friends who come to his aid. Then come Fury’s friends. Suddenly, the ring is surrounded by 12 guys, each egging on their guy.
When the referee isn’t looking (which happens often), Arion pins Fury with the help of the ropes.
And in the ring, a kiss indeed follows the bout.
Wrestling fan Jay Gagne , 19, says the WFA matches are entertaining and very well done. The Manchester resident follows the WFA from town to town and keeps up with how the story lines unfold.
“It’s awesome. You can hear everything they are saying and hear everything they are doing,” says Gagne. “I’ve been coming here for three years.”
In Lawrence, he even brought a date, Kelly Degulis , 19. “This date is great,” Degulis says.
David Meltzer , editor of the Wrestling Observer Newsletter, a trade publication that follows the pro wrestling business, says the independent wrestling scene has been “pretty steady” in the last few years. But since WWE maintains a national presence on TV, returning to the days when independent groups dominated local markets is unlikely. Major TV deals help WWE draw thousands to live events and to pick up 270,000 pay-per-view buys, he says. On a good night, i ndependent groups attract around 200 to 300 fans, Meltzer says.
But sometimes, as in baseball, a scout may attend an event and spot something. There might be that one night when a wrestling unknown sparks an interest with a WWE agent. A developmental contract might come out of it, a chance at the “Big Show.”
“The odds are long,” says Meltzer, “but it’s not impossible.”
