I don't usually go to watch wrestling; it's not really my sort of thing. You know, all that shouting and cheering, and two sweaty guys in the ring playacting... some people find it really entertaining, but to me it's just a little silly.
But.... I've got this girlfriend, see, and she's really into it. She's really sweet, and I guess everybody is allowed one strange and inexplicable vice. Hers is going to watch these clowns jump and shout and posture. Add in that it makes me feel good to keep her happy, and I'm sure that you can see where this is leading...
Anyway, my girlfriend tells me about this new promotion in town, and how it's supposed to be really something, so it was pretty much inevitable that we would go along to watch. It was a little more expensive than usual, but some girls have tastes that far exceed the capabilities of my wallet, so I didn't grumble too much. If you're on to a good thing, it make sense not to rock the boat.
The first surprise was where this place was located. Miles from anywhere, it was. If it hadn't have been for the small parking lot, I think I would have missed it. And even then, there wasn't any building in evidence, just a big concrete slab stuck in the middle. I thought we must have made some mistake. These things are usually held in big stadiums or sports gyms, and this concrete slab didn't look big enough to put a ring in.
We walked around the side of the thing and found a doorway with stairs leading down, and let me tell you these stairs were steep and not very well lit. I could tell that my girlfriend was getting a little uncomfortable about the whole idea, but the stairway was really narrow, so backing up would have been really awkward, especially as there were other people coming down behind us. About halfway down was the desk where we had to pay for our tickets. Once that was done, we continued down.
At the bottom of the stairs was a short corridor which opened up on top of what I can only describe as a pit. If you've ever been to a cinema, you'll know how the seats are often on a steep slope so that everyone has a decent view. Now this pit was like that, only the seats were sloping down on all four sides of the place, down to a pretty standard looking ring in the middle. No matter where we sat, we would have an uninterrupted view of the action.
We chose some seats that were about two thirds of the way down, and once we were seated my girlfriend and I looked at each other, probably thinking the same thing: this was reeealy weird. Still, she seemed to have got over her earlier nervousness on the stairs, looking around with keen interest. It struck me that there didn't appear to be any place to buy popcorn, peanuts or drinks.
The place filled up surprisingly quickly, but it didn't interfere with our view, which I still reckon was the best in the whole place. Then a guy came into the ring and announced the first match. No preamble, no advertising, just straight down to business. That bit was a refreshing change.
As the first match began, between two guys I'd never heard of, I settled down into that blissful state where you only have to have one part of your mind actually paying attention to what's going on. Even then I could tell that something was different. These guys in the ring didn't scream and shout; they just got on with it. There wasn't even any of the good guy - bad guy stuff that so often characterises and denigrates what was once a respectable sport.
I got to thinking about this place. Where the hell did it come from, what the hell was it for? Custom-built by these people? No, too expensive, surely. So it must have originally been for some other purpose. Maybe they bought it cheap off the military or something. God alone knows how many health and safety laws they were breaking, so it wasn't likely to be any standard commercial enterprise.
It was during the second match the my girlfriend asked me about some hold. I know I said that I'm not into this stuff; it's true, I'm not. Now my brother is into Olympic wrestling, which is more my idea of a real sport, although again it's not one that has any particular attraction for me. Still, he went on about it so much that I couldn't help but pick up the details about all those holds. Nasty, some of them. Anyway, a while back my girlfriend made some comment during a match, and I told her what this hold was that some joker in the ring was using. She was both surprised and thrilled that I knew anything about it, so she started asking me about other holds. Now Olympic wrestling is a bit different from the usual pro fare, so the next day I went out and got a few books and learned about every damn hold you ever heard of. I may not like wrestling, but I love the look of admiration in my girlfriend's eyes when I explain to her how these things work. It might sound stupid, but it scores every time.
I'm not sure when it occurred to me that some of the matches were very short. These guys were all business, no playing to the crowd at all. One match started with the guys clashing in middle, then one of them slapped on a hold that had the other one yelling his head off, and suddenly the match was over, just like that. And that was another thing; it was all submissions, every one. We didn't see a single pin all night.
This continued for a while, until what turned out to be the second from last match, when instead of two guys, two women got into the ring. I'll admit I groaned at that point. As bad as the usual matches are, women's wrestling has all the worst aspects, squared. It's so phoney it's embarrassing. I was all prepared to slip into a semi- slumber right up until they took off their dressing gowns.
I should have noticed that they were both tall, but underneath those dressing gowns they also had superb physiques. The black one was announced as, believe it or not, Jungle Bunny. I nearly fell out of my chair at that. But oh my God, what a woman! Sleek and firm, she looked halfway between one of those fitness women and a bodybuilder. And I'm not sure if it was oil or sweat, but her muscles glistened in the ring lights. Her chest was big without being oversized, looking really firm, yet not as firm as her rippling abdominals, arms and legs. She wore this leopardskin bikini that accentuated this animal magnetism.
If anything, her opponent was even more awesome. The MC called her Helga the Great, and she was as pale as Jungle Bunny was dark. She looked Nordic, possibly Swedish, and had this almost aristocratic air about her, reeking of disdain. Her body was flawless; looking like power barely contained with more than a hint of sexuality that must have hit the libido of every man present like a sledgehammer. She was wearing this green one-piece swimsuit that was cut high on the hips and up top exposed a great deal of a very impressive cleavage.
And they were both barefoot. Not boots, nor kneepads or elbow pads or face-paint or anything like that. Just their respective costumes. I'll be honest. Had either of these women stepped into the ring, it would have woken me up. Hell, either one would make the dead sit up and take notice. But they were both there in the same ring, and they were going to be fighting each other.
My girlfriend had initially been excited when a woman's bout had been announced, but now she just sat there with her jaw hanging down, mouth wide open. In fact, I think we both did. I was worried that at any second she would put her hand over my eyes. I was all attention, and I didn't try to hide it.
When the match started, they came at each other with a will. Having been forced to watch loads of cheap, tacky performances, I could tell the difference between playacting and the real thing, and this was the real thing. I don't know if there was needle between these two, but I could readily believe it. They played by the rules - the referee didn't play much of a part in the proceedings until the end, and stayed well out of the way - but you just knew that these two were out not just to win, but to hurt each other as well.
They locked up in a test of strength, with their hand held high above their heads, practically face to face, and you could see that there was no love lost between them. Fair enough, this was a contest where there could only be one winner, so it's pretty obvious you can't be nice to the other guy, but there was more to this than that. These two had something to prove, God knows who to.
Slowly, oh so slowly, their hands came down in a wide arc, both straining, neither giving an inch, until their arms were at their sides and their bodies were very close together. Then Jungle Bunny took a step back, and unleashed a knee to the belly that was almost too quick to follow. Unbelievably, Helga actually dodged it! Bunny's balance was upset, and Helga threw her to the mat, following up behind and going down on one knee to lay on a headlock, enfolding Bunny's head and jaw in one rippling arm.
There are some things you can't fake, and one of those is the shape of your face when you're head's being put under tremendous pressure. The set of her jaw and the contour of her cheeks spoke more elegantly than any words about the crushing force that was being brought to bear on Jungle Bunny, and the most frightening thing was that Helga didn't really seem to be putting much effort into it. If she had, Bunny's skull might have simply collapsed.
I've got to admit a profound respect for Bunny at that point. She didn't thrash around or scream or shout or complain to the referee; she just accepted the pain she was in and kept still, although when Helga twisted or tightened the hold, Bunny's whole body would shudder.
One of the really amazing things was that the whole place was absolutely silent. All you could hear was the heavy breathing of the two women in the ring. Neither woman spoke to each other, and the only words they said to the referee were monosyllables.
After a while, the referee came across and asked Bunny if she wanted to submit. We all heard the laboured and groaned "No", and Helga took that as a sign to try something else. Pulling Bunny upright to a standing position, she threw her opponent to the man over her hip, then did a vicious-looking knee drop to her ribs. Bunny cried out with a short sharp yelp, and the referee rather bravely interposed himself between the two women as they waited for Bunny to rise.
As soon as Bunny got to her feet, Helga charged in but the dark- skinned woman was waiting for her. Bunny delivered a lightening stiff- fingered jab to the pit of Helga's belly. The Nordic woman bent down slightly, then delivered an even faster stiff-fingered jab that must jolted Bunny's bladder, then followed up with a thunderous forearm smash to the jaw that rocked her opponent back on her heels and into the ropes. On the rebound Bunny was caught by a huge body check, and fell to the mat.
Again Helga was eager to get on with it and stood over her fallen foe, which proved to be a mistake. Bunny lashed out with one foot and caught Helga full on the knee. The Nordic woman stepped back sharply then fell to her hands and knees, and Bunny jumped up and was on top of her in an instant. Mounting the body of her opponent, Bunny wrapped her legs around Helga's body and her arms around the woman's neck. Helga fell to her side, but the twin holds were secured. Bunny had a sleeper with a body scissors. Her arms were firmly clamped around Helga's head and neck, and her thighs gripped the Nordic woman's sides. For good measure, Bunny crossed her ankles, jamming her feet in the space at the top of Helga's legs, probably pressing her heels against the groin.
Once she was all set, Bunny really turned the screw. She arched her back, forcing Helga to do the same, and simultaneously pushed down with her legs and pulled up with her arms, hitting Helga with the additional problem of a neck stretch.
Just like Bunny in the headlock, Helga made no attempt to escape or relieve the pressure, which was considerable to judge by the expression on her face. It was almost as if these two felt the need to prove to each other that they could take the worst that the other had to offer and still walk away from it. In a sportsmanlike way of thinking it was admirable, but as far as common sense was concerned it was dumb.
Helga's breathing was clearly audible, sounding distinctly rough. After a while the referee came over and asked her the question, to which the Nordic woman gurgled a single word, then repeated it in English. The referee shrugged and stood back. Bunny, however, did not take this as a sign to change her holds. Instead, she intensified them.
Helga, it seemed had decided that enough was enough. Sweeping one arm over her side, the two of them rolled over, leaving Bunny on her back and Helga prostrate on top of her. Then Helga took a grip or both of Bunny's wrists, and in an awesome display of raw strength, slowly pulled Bunny's arms from about her head.
You could tell that Bunny was really straining against it; you could see her muscles rippling in the effort. And the look on Bunny's face, once Helga had pinned her wrists to the mat and sat up, was one of pure disappointment. Any hopes of overwhelming Helga by sheer power must have evaporated at that point. Still, Bunny had Helga trapped in the not inconsiderable inconvenience of the body scissors, so she turned all of her attention to that, and with some effect it appeared, for Helga noticeably stiffened.
As Helga's hands went forward to deal with the scissors, it was necessary to let go of Bunny's wrists, and the dark-skinned woman didn't hesitate in threading her arms around the Nordic woman's shoulders to take her in a full nelson. As she tightened it, Helga sighed. I swear it's true.
Bunny wasted no time in putting the hold to work. She rolled onto her side, dragging her opponent with her, and arched her back again. Unfortunately, the full nelson was nowhere near as effective as the sleeper had been. Sensing this, Bunny rolled again so that now Helga was face down on the mat with her opponent glued to her back. In a remarkable display of flexibility, Bunny arched yet again, pulling Helga's upper body clear of the mat, only to slam her down again with real force.
As I mentioned earlier, Helga was well endowed in the bust area, and several women in the audience, my girlfriend included, winced as Helga's chest was repeatedly slammed into the mat. Helga didn't make a sound.
After the fifth or sixth slam, Helga forced her forehead to the mat and pulled her legs up, then swiftly sat up in a kneeling position. With an almost leisurely flexing of her shoulders, she broke the full nelson then turned to deal with her tormentor. Bunny grabbed her arms, and rather wisely decided to break the scissors in order to give herself more freedom of movement and chances to escape.
Slowly, still locked hand to hand, they made their way to their feet, upon which Bunny let Helga go and back-pedalled. Then came the strangest exchange of the night. Holding one of her wrists, staring at her opponent with some unfathomable expression on her face, Helga nodded. After a second, Bunny nodded back. I don't know if it was a mark of respect, or some prearranged signal to begin the final engagement, but it was noticeable and the only communication that passed between the two all night.
They came together again, Bunny going for a headlock but Helga evading and taking her in a bear hug that lifted the darker-skinned woman off of her feet. For a while Bunny just hung there with her arms dangling loose, her head arched back, her mouth open and her eyes shut. I hate to think what that must have felt like. Eventually she got her second wind and started to counterattack, taking Helga's head in her both hands and pressing her thumbs into the soft underside of the Nordic woman's jaw.
Helga really didn't like this. She suffered it for a while, then savagely yanked her head to one side and threw Bunny to the mat. Rubbing her neck, she advanced on her downed opponent and dragged her to her feet, put one hand on her shoulder and another between her legs, the lifted Bunny into the air and slammed her down onto the mat. Allowing no respite at all, she bent down and dragged the dark-skinned woman up again, lifted her high and body-slammed her again. And again. And again. And again.
It was obvious that Bunny was in desperate trouble. Helga wasn't just letting her drop to the mat, she was throwing her down with all her might. The final time Helga did it, she threw Bunny to the mat face down. As she dragged Bunny up again, she took hold of her head, pulled it in a wide arc as she went to one knee beneath her, then came up to put Bunny in Helga's own version of an over the shoulder back- breaker.
I say Helga's own version, because it was like none of the ones I'd seen in any of the books. All of them showed at least one hand coming around the opponent's body to steady it, but Helga didn't bother with that. No, she just laced her fingers together and pushed down on Bunny's jaw.
Bunny didn't, and probably couldn't, fight it. It was a shocking sight; this big, powerful woman, hanging limply with her back arched horribly on her opponent's shoulder, both legs and arms dangling as though she were a puppet whose strings had been cut. This was surely the end.
Helga did a three hundred and sixty degree turn, making sure that everyone in the audience could see how complete her dominance was. It was probably unfortunate that as she turned, she was continually turning Bunny's face away from the referee, who had to chase round. When she stopped, he went straight up and asked Bunny if she submitted.
We were all surprised when he didn't call a halt to the match, but stepped back, looking unsure and worried. Bunny had said no!! Surely, I thought, surely she can't take this. She wasn't even trying to fight it! There's fine lines between courage, stubbornness and utter foolishness, and it looked as though Bunny was stuck right in the no- mans land in the middle of them.
Helga dropped to one knee, and Bunny's back came down hard against her shoulder, bending her even further. If Bunny cried out, I didn't hear it, because the whole crowd gasped. Helga shrugged her shoulders, and Bunny fell to the mat. Had the Nordic woman simply left her, it would have been enough, because I'm pretty sure that Bunny wouldn't have got to her feet if the referee had counted to a thousand.
But Helga evidently wanted a submission, and was determined to get one. She stepped over Bunny's body, went down on one knee again, pulled the fallen woman's head up, and crumpled her into an over the knee back breaker, with one hand on the woman's jaw and another on her hip, bending her more than I've ever seen anyone bent. The dark-skinned woman's arms and legs were lifeless, giving no support or respite to her tortured back. That's enough, I though. I really didn't want to watch any more.
The referee had to ask Bunny whether she wanted to submit twice. I never heard it, but on the second time, she must have said yes, because the referee immediately tapped Helga on the shoulder and called an end to the match. Helga released the hold as the bell rang, and after a moment's stunned silence, the applause was deafening.
Jungle Bunny didn't move for some time, and a small crowd of attendants hovered around her. Helga left the ring at the same time that the stretcher arrived, and the dark-skinned woman was treated to another round of applause as she was carried from the ring.
My girlfriend and I didn't stay to see the end of the final match, because it was another mens' one, and frankly I think we'd both had enough by then. The drive home was in silence. The one time I turned on the radio, she immediately turned it off. Then we had this long discussion about women's wrestling. She asked me if I had enjoyed it. I had to be honest. I was shocked, I was awed, but I had really liked it. Don't ask me why, because even if I knew I wouldn't admit it.
A sly smile crossed by girlfriend's face, to be replaced by a strange expression that was almost predatory. Well, she said, perhaps I would like to see another woman wrestler. My night of surprises had only just begun.
(c) Bomur 1999, 2000, 2001