FROM FEBRUARY/MARCH 2021 ISSUE OF WEST END PHOENIX

In pre-pandemic times, many performers in Toronto’s thriving professional wrestling industry were doing two to four events a week for sold-out crowds in venues like The Great Hall, the Tranzac and 3030 Dundas West.

For them, wrestling is more than just a sport or a form of entertainment: it’s a creative outlet, a tight-knit community and the organizing principle of their lives. We spoke to four of Toronto’s pro wrestlers about what life has been like since the pandemic put the show on hold.

STRATOS FEAR

“I’m 36 and grew up in that era when backyard wrestling was huge – wrestling with friends, playing wrestling games on the N64. I always wanted to be a wrestler. I tried it in my mid-20s and spent a month training, but it was intimidating. My head wasn’t there. When I turned 30, I was like, What do I regret that I never followed through on? And that was it. I signed up for a school, I haven’t stopped, and now here I am.

I play a heel, and it’s just the best. One of my things is that in a match, I’ll do, like, a spit-off. My opponent, I’ll spit at them and they’ll spit back at me, and we’ll go back and forth. At our shows there are no seats – you’re right up at the ring. It’s very intimate. There was one show where we were like, ‘Let’s see if the whole crowd can spit on me.’ So disgusting, I know, but it ended up working. That moment was one of my favourite things ever. You see the crowd and they’re screaming, they’re disgusted, but that’s the beauty of it. I need that. I can probably never do that move again.

In the summer I was able to do a live show outside in a parking lot, in Hamilton. The audience was in parked cars, spaced out, and it was fine but kind of weird. And when restrictions were not as strict we were able to record a couple months’ worth of TV tapings. We would do those in chunks, a bunch in one day. It was okay, but in the end you can’t justify not having a crowd. It’s the best feeling. You feed off of it.

Realistically, I don’t know how we’re going to go back to those shows we all used to do. I was travelling a bit in the States before this all started as well, and who knows when we’ll all be able to do that again. I miss those trips. It’s not even about the wrestling, at times. It’s just the bond of driving four, five hours somewhere, getting to the show, meeting up with people you see at other shows, just hanging out and having a good time. Hugging them with open arms.”

JODY THREAT

“Up until recently, I was just dead inside. It was awful. I was not productive. So many people were like, ‘Yeah, I’m gonna get in the best shape of my life!’ But I was just depressed. My parents offered up a bit of their backyard, so I bought a pop-up carport and built a gym in there. It’s not bad, it’s a nice setup, but the issue then becomes, Do I really want to work out? Why am I working out? I’m so sad. Once it started getting cold I decided to revisit my old passion of snowboarding. The season opens up – very promising – I’m like, Hell yeah, got out two or three times, and then the government shut down the hills in Ontario. What a rollercoaster. But I’m back strong now. I’m working and I’m going back to school, just to get a certificate. I feel like I’m 21 again. Like, bro, what even is a group assignment online?

I was never a wrestling fan growing up. I started late in life, in my late 20s. I was drunk with my sister, walking near Queen and Ossington, and I noticed a sign outside a bar that was handwritten, very punk rock style. It said LIVE PRO WRESTLING. I looked at my sister, she looked at me, I was like, ‘Shall we?’ and she was like, ‘We shall.’ Within five minutes of being there I had this a-ha moment. I was like, this is what I need to be doing. Ten or 11 days later I enrolled my ass into training, and that started my adventure into this wild world. Some of the people I saw wrestling that night are my good friends now.

Wrestling provides you with this feeling that is like no other. I’ve played sports my whole life; I played varsity-level rugby, I snowboard, skateboard, did all kinds of athletics in high school. In sports you get cheered on, and that feels good – it gives you that extra drive. In wrestling it’s that times 10, because not only are you being cheered on, you’re able to react. You’re able to build the crowd’s reactions into your story. If you’re getting booed or whatever, you can play off it to rile everyone up. It’s such an interesting energy feed, that give and take. I don’t really know how to explain it. It’s always happening; as soon as the curtain opens, it’s just this roar of energy. That’s what keeps me coming back to it – that’s what I miss the most. Everything, but especially that feeling.”

GABRIEL FUERZA

“It’s been boring. Frustrating. I’m more exhausted just sitting at home than I am driving four hours to get to a show. And I miss my friends. I did a few shows in the summer: two where the crowd was there but socially distanced, and one with no crowd. That was weird. Wrestling’s so much more improv-y than people realize, and without a crowd... I mean, try doing improv by yourself. It’s awkward shit. It was strange, but I’d rather be doing it in front of nobody than not doing it at all.

My parents were wrestling fans growing up – they liked Mexican wrestling. They think American wrestling is too bulky and not as entertaining. They got me into it, and then when I graduated high school I got good enough grades that my dad decided to pay for a summer of wrestling class. From the first day, the big tip that I got was to find one person in the audience and sell to them. You’re just constantly yelling at them or you’re asking for help. You’re focused on that one person, and they become a fan, and then that bleeds out to the people around them. The moves are secondary, almost. It’s all about the connection with at least one person.

Right now, I think most of my wrestling friends are definitely going through a kind of renaissance period in their head. Everyone’s thinking, ‘Can I change something? Do I want to try something totally new?’ I’m thinking about my character 24/7. I have a notebook beside my bed, and I’ll wake up at 3 a.m. and be like, I have an idea! And I’ll pull it open and write down whatever it is – a move, or an idea for ring gear or a haircut or whatever. Even if it’s a bad idea, I’ll write it down just in case.

I’m trying to be more open about my Mexican heritage. I was so careful about that before; I didn’t want people to coin me as The Mexican Wrestler. Every show has a pseudo-Mexican wrestler – whether it’s a white guy in a mask or a real Mexican guy who’s playing off it. But the whole BLM movement made me want to be more open and proud of my heritage. There’s not a lot of Hispanic wrestlers in the area, but I do know there are a lot of Hispanic fans, so I definitely want them to feel represented. I just want to be proud of who I am, and hopefully people see that.”

KINGDOM JAMES

“If the question is ‘What have you been doing during the lockdown?’, then the answer is ‘264 podcasts.’ I did my podcast daily last year, from January 1, 2020, every weekday. And I got a cat. That was a third-act decision back in December. At first she would hide, but now, six weeks later, she’s circling me like a shark looking for a scratch, and then smacking me if she doesn’t like the way I’m doing it.

I miss the hell out of wrestling. I’m eager to get back to it. For the social aspect, for the performance. Exercising every ounce of your creativity physically and mentally to get an immediate response from a crowd. Wrestling, at its best, is 1500s Shakespeare. The Globe Theatre was a theatre in the round, they were playing to an audience all around them, and those original performances were not a stately thing, they were not a dignified thing. They were loud and raucous; a lot of heckling and yelling and shouting and cheering. They were exactly what wrestling is now. It’s heroes and villains, it’s the woebegone, it’s chivalry and pure chicanery.

I’m happy as a heel. There’s nothing quite like being completely unfettered in your words and your deeds. I curse a lot. A lot of the times it’s just turning yourself up to 11. I’ve yelled at crowds in the States that they lost the War of 1812 and Canada is better. Once, at the Great Hall, a guy and his kids were heckling me from the balcony and I told him I hoped his kids died of something simple, like a hangnail or the common cold, so that he could live the rest of his life in misery and sorrow knowing that they would still be around if he’d just told them to shut the fuck up while I was talking. It was one of the best nights ever.

My wishes, in order, are vaccination, provincial election and a return to semi-normal. I’d just love to not be spending 2022 in this same fucking apartment 24 hours a day. I know it’s never going to go all the way back; everything is going to have to change. You live through the tornado, then you’re standing in the rubble that used to be your house like, Now I gotta rebuild.”