[MEDIA] Ottawa Sun 11.9.03 Blood, sweat and tears

http://slam.canoe.ca/Slam/Wrestling/2003/11/09/251865.html

Blood, sweat and tears

It's about passion, not money, as wrestlers put limbs on line

By TIM BAINES -- Ottawa Sun

It's lights out as my eyelids flutter shut, my knees buckle and I
slump face-first to the mat.

Thanks to a fist to my head from a sneaky Righteous Rick Sterling, my
professional wrestling debut at Gatineau's Robert Guertin Arena has
screeched to a thudding halt.

In the ring, the hero, Pierre Carl Ouellet, somehow overcomes the odds
and defeats his opponent Thunder. It's Ouellet I'm helping,
handcuffing myself to JJ Crooke, Thunder's conniving manager.

I cannot see Ouellet's arm raised in victory, I'm still kissing the
canvas.

As I struggle to my feet and wobble to the back, selling Righteous
Rick's knockout blow, my own wrestling dream is over with more than
1,000 spectators feeling little sympathy for a flabby 225-lb.,
44-year-old sports editor. Never mind that I'd just taken one for the
team.

It's small solace to know that, if only for a few fleeting moments, I
was a small part of a culture where clandestine trickery has evolved
to being 'what you see is real ... yet, not real' ... and the
wrestling promoters no longer try to hide the dirty little secret.

What seems real and hurtful is actually contrived in order to minimize
the pain. It's mostly optics when you see the assortment of
devastating blows -- piledrivers, suplexes, chokeslams, elbow smashes,
legdrops and punches to the face. But make no mistake about it. These
performers, many chomping at the bit to enjoy bigger success in bigger
arenas, have loads of talent and charisma, without the hefty bank
account to show for it.

This kind of sports entertainment is all about a combination of
soap-opera theatrics and high-flying action.

Where guys and gals of all sizes put their limbs on the line night
after night.

Where adults paint their faces, put on masks and create alter egos.
The Freak, The Butcher, The Legend. Face of Death.

Wacky and intimidating at the same time.

The question has to be asked: Why? Why do they do this?

For a few bucks? Not likely. Many nights, they do not get paid. Not
money. Not for gas. Not for a dingy roadside motel room. Not for a Big
Mac and a Coke. Nothing.

For glory? Maybe it's more for the thrills, the exhileration.

Or do they still hold onto the dream? Ah, the dream!

---

Meet 23-year-old Stephanie Landry. In the ring, she's Misty Haven, a
naughty, scheming vixen. "You're not going to hear about a lot of
people who drive 41 hours in one weekend -- Windsor to Maine -- to
make $10, but I did," she says. "This is a passion for me, a dream."
That passion only took a slight detour a while back in Montreal when a
fan threw a bottle that bounced off her forehead. "I was shocked and
threw the bottle back," she says. "I was mad for real."

Meet 24-year-old Mike Leduc, known as MVP Michael Von Payton. "I've
loved wrestling since I was five or six," he says, remembering that he
used to mimic Macho Man Randy Savage by flying off a couch with a
wicked elbow smash aimed at whoever happened to be lounging below.
"And when I started training, the unthinkable became reality. I became
a wrestler. As much as you grow to love this, performing in front of
people, it's like a disease. You can't let go."

Meet Shawn Demers, known as Mr. Know It All in the squared circle. "I
started selling tickets for these guys ... and then I got involved in
the wrestling side of it," he says. "I'm not doing this for the money,
but it's important to get the exposure. It's takes a lot of
sacrifices."

Meet Joel Racine, who has no illusions of the big time. The
32-year-old document technician with Communications Canada is known as
manager JJ Crooke. Married for six years, Racine stretches out to
5-foot-6 and weighs 140 lbs. soaking wet. On this night, he winds up
on the receiving end of an Ouellet chokeslam. "There's usually no
money, no pay in this," says Racine, who also helps promote the
events. "But I've loved wrestling since I was young. I watched guys
like The Four Horsemen, Dino Bravo and Rick Martel with my mom and
grandparents. This is it for me. I've got a good job and a wife here."

Meet 48-year-old Guy "The Legend" Sauriol. He began wrestling at age
15. "I'm the last of the old guys," he says. But he quit wrestling
when he got married, returning 18 years later after a separation from
his wife. "I don't make a career out of this," says Sauriol, who's
currently helping out as a carpenter at Specs Audio. "I'll be finished
pretty soon. My move is the big splash off the top rope. That isn't
easy at this age."

Meet 35-year-old Dean Danis. He's muscular Damien Styles, one half of
Aftershock, along with his 31-year-old brother Dave, who wrestles as
Drake Styles. The duo has been wrestling a little under a year.
Self-employed and in the construction trade, the older Danis has been
a bodybuilder for 22 years. "If it came to heart and dedication, I'd
be a champion," he says. He hopes wrestling is more than a dream.
"I've been wanting to do this for a long time," he says.

---

As the lights go down and the TV cameras are shut off, I slink toward
the dressing room of Abdullah the Butcher, the night's star attraction
who has just carved up and made a bloody mess out of his opponents
Dave LeJusticier and Guy Sauriol. He literally forked them.

A big meaty palm reaches out to shake my quivering hand. A smile
crosses his face. Out of love, I'm sure, he puts me in a headlock and
mockingly threatens to sink his teeth into my ear. Abdullah, The
Madman from the Sudan, is the star of the show. Real name Lawrence
Shreeve, from Windsor, he now lives in Atlanta where he operates
Abdullah the Butcher's House of Ribs and Chinese Food. Now 66, he's in
his sixth decade of wrestling. "I can't stop," he says. "I want to
pound on somebody. I just get a kick out of it."

---

I walk down the hall. Sitting alone on a bench, a bloody welt stinging
his forehead, is Dan Gervais, Wild Dangerous Dan for wrestling
purposes. From Vanier, Gervais is one of the driving forces behind
Canadian Professional Wrestling, which has booked this show. Pain and
blood are nothing new. At 43, he's travelled the world. "I've wrestled
with 10,000 thumbtacks in the middle of the ring, with light tubes ...
I don't think about my health. It's a risk. When you go to a place
like Puerto Rico, they expect you to perform. If you pulled a guy's
arm off, the fans would love it."

---

I walk toward the back door of the aging arena, hang a left at the
Zamboni and I'm out into the misty darkness of the night. Most of the
event's spectators, who, despite a popular stereotype, seemed equipped
with a full set of teeth, have left the parking lot. I've had my 15
minutes, my Andy Warholian flirtation with fame.

Inside, the curtain has come down on the actors ... athletes ...
performers ... the sequins and frilly tights are replaced by T-shirts
and blue jeans.

Another night. Another performance.

For some, it's another step closer to the dream. For others, well, the
the dream dies hard, sometimes in a puddle of blood.