Mexican Lucha Libre reminds me of the sort of wrestling I grew up on — the rawboned violence and rough-necking that I often thought about, fantasized about, and got excited about in my younger days. Seeing a good old-fashioned battle like this May 29th encounter from Toluca, Mexico is like a pleasant walk down memory lane for me.
Just like the wrestling I grew up on, Mexican wrestling still defines the competitors as either Good Guys or Bad Guys so you know exactly whom to cheer for (and fantasize about) depending on whether you love heroes or villains. In this match, the Good Guys are Cibernético, El Mesías and Dr. Wagner Jr. (in the skimpy black singlet with matching mask.) The Bad Guys are Hijo del Perro Aguayo, Canek and Villano IV who is wearing the flamboyant purple and pink bodysuit. I realize that is a lot of different characters to keep track of, so I will point out the Good Guys and Bad Guys as we go along…
The Luchadores remind me of the tough brawlers who drew me to the television as a youngster like a moth to a flame whenever pro wrestling was broadcast. They are Real Men — thicker and heavier looking than today’s lean, streamlined pretty-boys. Their tight spandex hugs their flesh to reveal their power and manliness.
There is something to be said in favor of throwbacks. Seeing classic physiques in traditional rasslin’ gear performing old-school brutality (like choking a poor bastard using a chair) really flips some old switches in my brain. It’s like if your granny made fantastic apple pie that you haven’t tasted in years, then someone serves you a really good pie. Your mouth waters and you moan a little, like you forgot how great a simple pleasure like apple pie can taste.
Those big, fleshy bodies, those sexy masks, the exchange of power as a man is held still while his enemy slowly unlaces his mask — am I the only one who feels excitement over scenes like this? Maybe it’s because I watched similar scenarios thousands of times back in the day that I’m conditioned, like Pavlov’s drooling dogs, to get off on this.
The Bad Guys slam a chair into Cibernético’s skull and blood starts to flow down his face — and another little switch is tripped inside my brain.
Then the villain sinks his teeth into the hero’s scalp — I actually recall matches like this from the 1970’s where two brutes just bite away on each other until they’re both covered in blood.
Seeing this style of wrestling again is like an old friend has returned — or like a former lover couldn’t resist coming back for more. Another reason Mexican wrestling reminds me of the good old days is that the combatants still know how to feud properly with each other. Their hatred runs soul deep, smoldering and boiling over for years.
You get the sense that each wrestler want to bite the other man’s face off, burn his crops, and shatter his entire existence. Constantly attacking and abusing the Good Guy, you get the sense that the Bad Guy has some kind of obsession with hurting the Good Guy. Nowadays the wrestlers just bicker and call names until the next Pay-per-View, then it’s dropped and they move on to their next rivalry (like the Real Housewives...) But in Mexico, they still feud for decades and totally want to destroy each other, classic-wrasslin’ style.
Two of the men in this battle are engaged in the old-school type of Feud, the kind that festers for years until it seems even their children’s children will want to kick each other in the crotch.
And just like you or I might crave granny’s apple pie, Perro Aguayo’s favorite thing to chew on seems to be Cibernético’s skull. How many times has he bitten poor Cibernético and made him bleed? Over 50 possibly?
When the dog bites, when the bee stings, I simply remember my favorite things, and then I don’t feel so bad:
- strangulation on the bottom rope
- nasty double teaming
- wearing of the Crimson Mask
- tall white boots used as weapons
- displays of helpless agony
These wrestlers really know how to flip those switches in my brain. They seem to know exactly what to do to tap into my cravings for in-ring violence and punishment that I was either born with, or that was installed in my wiring at a very early age. The wrestlers may not be too pretty to look at, but their performances are absolutely beautiful and I can’t pry my eyes away.