MANSFIELD — Last weekend at the Malabar School Gymnasium I attended my first professional wrestling event: the American States Wrestling Alliance Saturday Night Slam.
A good crowd was in attendance so I wasted no time in getting to the concessions. With a chili dog, a nacho plate, and my wife, I made my way to the bleachers.
Ring announcer Cody White was already getting things started.
“DO NOT attempt to enter the ring. DO NOT jump over the barriers. Do not THROW anything into the ring. And PLEASE – do not attempt any of the things you see here in your own home.
“Ladies and Gentlemen. Are you ready for professional wrestling?”
Whoops and yells.
“Are you ready for INSANE wrestling action!?”
Wild cheering and a ceremonial ring of the bell.
“Because tonight, at Malabar School Gymnasium in BEAUTIFUL MANSFIELD, OHIO it is THE Saturday Night Slam, and you have the BEST seat, and the BEST ticket in town!”
More cheers as “Sweet Dream” Sless Taylor and Ethan Wright (aka “The Natural’) entered the ring.
“Hmm,” said my wife, “nice legs. Wow. Wait! I didn’t expect them to be this good-looking.”
Her reaction was mildly irritating, but thankfully short-lived. These two were in good shape, true, but many of those who followed were reassuringly portly and aged – and also apparently hard-of-hearing, as despite the loud roars I frequently saw them cupping their hands to their ears to hear the crowd.
But this was not a fight, not yet. Presumably by some administrative oversight, the two had been given microphones and allowed to loudly accuse each other of underhanded behavior.
A man by the name of “Random Pain” entered the ring brandishing a stick. I should say at this point that I’d had the good fortune to be seated near a comedian, who kept things moving with a stream of clever puns and witty allusions.
“Random Pain?” he chuckled, “More like … Random Stain!”
“I know you’re excited to see me here!” shouted Mr. Pain, calming the restless crowd. “But let’s get down to business!”
Clearly Mr. Pain did not enjoy universal respect, as some grumbling and mild abuse was thrown his way. “Random Stain!” the man behind me repeated.
“You shut your mouths!” said Mr. Pain. “You people are morons!” This didn’t seem to bother the crowd much and passed largely without comment.
“Mansfield – huh! Bunch of HILLBILLIES, that’s what you are.” Well, that got a response, but whether it was a bellow of anger or a roar of approval is difficult to say.
Then the ring was cleared for the first match.
The first contender (Asylum) appeared to be a Roman warrior of some description, while his opponent (Alex Matthews) was one of several long-haired wrestlers to enter the ring. Some of them would occasionally take time to flounce their locks during free moments.
I was of the opinion that long hair was a clear disadvantage. It was often grabbed – or stood upon – in what seemed to be a very uncomfortable manner producing yells of pain.
As the action began, I observed Matthews throw himself back against the ropes, allowing the return momentum to propel him back into the ring towards his opponent.
I considered this a misguided strategy, as it invariably resulted in a kick to the face. In fact, I don’t believe this maneuver was once successful, yet I was to see it used many times during the course of the evening.
Asylum had Matthews down on the ground and seemed to be stomping on his head. The ref did not seem unduly concerned. I was unsure of the rules in this matter.
With Asylum victorious, we moved on to a Tag Match Challenge pitching Manson Crane and “Overlord” Barry Hardy against two bald gentlemen: “Kid” Collins and Thunder Morgan.
I couldn’t swear to it, but I thought I witnessed one of the wrestlers kick his opponent before they’d even entered the ring.
As the match progressed, the combatants would occasionally fall or jump out of the ring – sometimes they were pushed.
It was an absolute melee at times with punches coming from outside the ring into it and vice versa. It struck me, not for the first time, that the referee did not have much control over what was happening.
With respect to the refs, one might almost believe they were unconcerned with whether the rules were followed or not.
Things got even worse when one of the bald men was hypnotized by his opponent and instructed to attack his own partner. At least I think that’s what was happening. In the chaos I may have gotten confused.
It was getting nasty, and someone who looked like a medieval biker rushed into the ring carrying some kind of bludgeon. It looked like he was tending to the fallen baldie. Was he a qualified medical professional? This was not made clear.
The next match featured Robbie Collins aka “The Redneck Kid” – a clear crowd favorite – against “The Natural” Ethan Wright.
This cranked things up a notch with flying punches and kicks right out of the gate, and a move known as a ‘Double Clothesline.’
With other moves having names like ‘Tilt-a-Whirl’ and ‘Corkscrew Elbow Drop’ it occurred to me that pro wrestling is like a kind of violent square dancing.
One of the wrestlers directly attacked the ref, who fell out of the ring theatrically clutching his chest and appeared to be unconscious, or perhaps dead. The fight continued unmoderated.
Again, not to question the professionalism of the referees, but it often seemed – even when they were conscious – as if they had totally lost control and had little interest in gaining it back.
We were now witnessing one astonishing scene after another, with each match disrupted by the most outrageous behavior and flouting of the rules. Something must have been in the air that night.
Next up was the ‘Stick on a Pole’ match, which had the added objective of climbing a pole to retrieve a stick.
Mr. Random Pain was back again for this one.
“He’s a legend …” snickered the man behind me, “in his own mind!”
Pain’s opponent was Taka Hashi, whose elaborate mask suggested a strong affiliation with the Land of the Rising Sun.
“Taka Hashi?” announced the wit with a giggle. “More like … Taka Sushi!”
This time the fight commenced outside the ring well before the bell and it seemed the rule book had been thrown clear out the window.
In fact throughout the match the fight moved in and out of the ring and although at some point the bell did definitely ring, I noticed no discernible difference in the action as a result.
Heads were bashed against the metal of the safety barriers, a development that was treated with surprising nonchalance by the security crew, and I witnessed a new move: Taka Hashi clambered on Pain’s shoulders and did a back-and-forth shoe shuffle.
“He’s doing the spine dance!” said an excited kid to my right. “He’s doing the spine dance!”
For some reason the business of climbing the pole to get the stick was carried out with incredible slowness, at times agonizingly so.
“Get the stick!” shouted the crowd in a frenzy of anticipation. ”Get the stick already!”
At last, Pain had the stick. Then Taka Hashi grabbed it and began beating Pain with it.
“Look!” shouted my wife with glee. “Blood!!”
Yes indeed, Pain was now bleeding. Surely an inevitable consequence of having his unprotected bald head belaboured with a stick.
There followed much grabbing, man-handling and impossible suffocations, featuring uncomfortably lengthy ‘crotch-in-face’ holds.
“My God,” said my wife, as Taka Hashi squirmed with his thighs wrapped around Pain’s face, “this is so … homoerotic.”
“Hush,” I said, cutting her off before she said something elitist.
We had reached the intermission and I pondered what I’d seen so far. What had happened tonight to make the rules be so flagrantly disregarded? Not just the rules of wrestling but those of basic human decency. No doubt there would have to be some kind of investigation or official inquiry.
And yet, judging by the smiling, chatty and relaxed crowd heading off for more snacks and beverages, one might almost imagine that this was business as usual.
What was coming next? Gunplay? The ring set on fire? I settled down for the second half.
The action returned with a Tag Team Title Match: “Living Nightmare” Jimmie Lee & Kenny Hendrix against Benjamin Bartholomew & JJ DeVille.
Jimmie Lee was the man with a bludgeon I had earlier mistaken for a medical professional. On closer inspection his ‘bludgeon’ revealed itself to be a kind of shrunken head still attached to a spinal column.
More violence ensued.
“It’s a choker!” shouted the kid beside me as we witnessed another variation on suffocation. “No-one survives the choker … make him die!!”
In another shocking development, a ringside man associated with BB & JJ (who I later discovered went by the name Ed Deadly) threw some kind of dust or powder in Jimi Lee’s eyes, a move which brought matters to a swift conclusion.
Never, in all of the several hours I’ve spent watching American professional sports have I seen such lowdown dirty dealing.
The penultimate matchup was between Sweet Dreams and Mr. Insanity, and soon some sort of Hell’s Angels death stomp was going on outside of the ring. By now I couldn’t even remember if the match had started or discern clearly who was involved.
What was happening? Did I keep hearing someone shout “hit him with the mallet?” Was that my imagination or was there a mallet hidden somewhere – perhaps in the crowd?
Mr. Insanity, in a now-familiar move, was having his head slammed against the metal security barrier. Touchingly, he found time to exchange a few bleary words with a kid in the front row who’d wandered up close.
Mr. Insanity looked cross-eyed and I don’t imagine he said much of great worth but the child was delighted.
I was losing track of winners and losers, and strangely, it didn’t seem to matter.
It was now time for the main attraction. “Monster” Abyss – weighing in at 350 pounds – vs ‘“Wildcat” Chris Harris.
Although terrifyingly large the Monster did not seem in especially good shape.
“What does that ‘A’ on his back stand for?” said someone. “Asthmatic? I’m not sure he can breathe properly.”
Certainly he didn’t hesitate to directly attack the ref once the match was underway, beginning with the threat of a raised fist and moving on to full body slams.
Once again we witnessed a ref lose consciousness, and while he was twitching and shaking on the canvas, a flurry of activity saw the reappearance of tag team BB & JJ making a seemingly unplanned return to the action.
In the confusion, the ref was pulled out of the ring. The Monster produced a hitherto unseen nailed club which drew appreciative gasps from the crowd.
“Just who in the hell do you two think you are?” he yelled at BB & JJ.
And then – incredible development! – the Monster spontaneously decided to team up with Wildcat and take on the intruders.
Unprecedented scenes! Never-before-witnessed disorder!
“My friend,” said the Monster tenderly to Wildcat, “it’s me and you, together at last – against THEM.”
It was a touching moment to end the night on, and a warm glow enveloped the crowd as the resulting all-in rampage and utter carnage unfolded.
Curiously, at the expiration of three hours of unscripted chaos featuring every kind of interruption and unpredictable upset imaginable, the show miraculously ended exactly as scheduled at 10 p.m. on the dot.
If you want to catch the fun yourself, ASAW Wrestling will back at the Malabar School Gymnasium on Saturday April 8.
See here for details – http://aswaprowrestling.wixsite.com/aswaprowrestling
