Lucha libre tonight
The exótico stood high on the ropes, arms raised as the small crowd chanted his name. He stuck his tongue out the corner of his mouth and bit it in a sexy sneer, his lipstick and rouge smeared from the battle raging around him. Then he leapt head first off the high ropes, plunging towards the concrete twelve feet below and into the arms of his mortal enemy.
Of the many amazing things I have seen down here, nothing has made me question my senses and sanity like lucha libre. I knew about Mexican masked wrestling, of course, but nothing could have prepared me for actually being there.
A giant man in an executioner’s hood leaps down off the ropes to crush his wounded opponent, only for her to magically swing him around and throw his body across the canvas, under the ropes, out of the ring, and down onto the concrete.
Another exótico, after making suggestive motions toward his opponent, submits him from behind, adding some lewd thrusting for good measure — and then goes in for a kiss with the referee, who narrowly escapes.
A luchador gets hit over the head with a chair and fights for another twenty minutes, hair and face covered in blood. Afterwards he crouches for photos and autographs with local kids, blood still pouring down.
At one point, all six combatants — four men and two women — have kicked each other in the crotches so hard (the last two at the same time), they all roll around on the canvas in agony. I laugh so hard my Corona comes out my nose.
In the decrepit gymnasium in front of a couple hundred of us in folding chairs, the luchadores risked their necks over and over. Men and women, gay and straight, fat or thin or muscle-bound, they performed an acrobatic drama that flowed from tragedy to slapstick, from noble sacrifice to the lowest betrayal. We gasped, roared with laughter, booed at the top of our lungs and cheered for the incredible things we were seeing.
Here are some lessons I learned last weekend: good always prevails in the end — except when it doesn’t; the game is fixed and the ref is in on it so sometimes you have to beat him up as well; don’t gloat while your opponent is still moving; a well-trained woman can whip two men; the fight gets very rough when you’re outside the ring; sometimes you gotta bleed a lot to put on a good show; stay in the ring long enough and you may get to punch the crooked ref in the face; gay people are loved for their authenticity, especially when they kick the crap out of some thick-headed bully.
Five stars. Highly recommended.
photos by June Molgaard
