Lucha Libre

As promised, here is a writeup about my Friday night excursion to the Lucha Libre. To be honest though, I'm not sure what to write, because really how can I hope to capture in words what needs to be seen to be appreciated. I went to the Lucha Libre as part of an organized excursion courtesy of the hostel. Seven other brave souls went with us, including our "guide". Before we left, we went to a private lounge in the hostel and were served tequilas and beer, which were included in the price of the excursion. I guess the liquor was meant to warm us up and make us more pliable to an evening of Mexican wrestling. Well, it really wasn't needed as you shall see. The stadium was a typical stadium, holding about 10,000 people. The place was about 75% full, surprisingly enough... Isaac, our guide, said that people from all classes come to the matches, and there are often celebrities in attendance as well. Well, the way the Lucha Libre works is there are two teams, the Rudos (the "Rudes") or the bad guys, and the Tecnicos which are the good guys. There are typically 4-5 matches per night, with each match between the Rudos and Tecnicos being between teams of 3-5 combatants. Each match gets progressively more exciting as the teams and fighters are of higher caliber and of greater popularity. On the way to the match, Isaac taught us some various vulgar taunts and phrases that we were expected to hurl at the combatants (and possibly each other) at various times throughout the night. I won't go into detail here, but most of them made some reference to the other person's mother. He also taught us a special "whistle" which meant that your mother is a whore. Naturally we all had a great time trying to do that whistling sound, which wasn't that easy actually. So we took our seat and began hurling insults before the match even began. The matches took place in a boxing ring, with contestants entering the arena through a very elaborate entrance complete with lights, smoke and dramatic music. Most of the fighters wore the masks which are the signature of the Lucha Libre. The masks are apparently a throwback to when the league first got started in the 50's and the fighters wore masks to protect their identity because they all had typical day jobs and were ashamed to be involved in the Lucha Libre. An early highlight of the evening was when we discovered that one of the matches was to feature women combatants. Ok, let me say right now, that when you are in a foreign place, among a foreign culture, there are definitely certain barriers of good taste which are easier to knock down in the name of cultural immersion and exploration. What I'm trying to say is that I was whooping and hollering for the female fighters as much as anyone, and I'm not embarrassed about it. Ok maybe a little. But wait, it gets worse. The third match of the evening was a bout of 3 versus 3. Well, I should say 3.5 versus 3. The Rudos team had a midget, oops, I mean a little person, on their team as well. What made it even more ridiculous is that he was dressed in what appeared to be a purple furry monkey suit with a black mask. He didn't do a whole lot during the fight, except for shout and taunt the other team when they were being pinned to the ground until.... One of the Tecnicos got thrown out of the ring, and his Rudo adversary body slammed him on the ground outside of the ring. All of a sudden, the little purple monkey scaled the ropes of the ring and delivered a crushing body slam to the hapless Tecnico, no doubt stunned by this doubly bad turn of events. The crowd went crazy when the little guy nailed the Tecnico.
For the most part the crowd had been on the side of the Tecnicos (good guys) as is only fitting, but they really threw their support behind the little purple monkey. But then again, who wouldn't root for the midget in that scenario? Again, I was caught up in the emotional swell of the crowd and cheered as loudly as anyone else. Sitting here writing this up, it's hard to imagine me condoning the involvement of a little person in such a freakshow, but I gotta say I was really rooting for the little guy. And not just because he was in a monkey suit either. So by the third match or so, the matches began to take on a not so subtle pattern. At the beginning of the match, the Rudos would always gain a quick upper hand, which would send the crowd into a murmuring anger. Then the Tecnicos would by means of superior skill, slowly begin to overcome and beat down the bad guys. This would whip up the excitement in the arena. But the Rudos weren't to be counted out... usually by means of cheating or trickery (boy those judges are stupid) the Rudos would gang up on the Tecnicos and it would appear the Tecnicos were almost finished. By now the crowd is simmering in a rage of disbelief. But in the moment when it seemed like the Rudos would finally finish of the Tecnicos, the Tecnicos called on some secret well of strength and overcome to the odds to put the Rudos out of commission. This miraculous turn of events sent the crowd to their feet in a burst of cheering and applause. Of the five matches of the night, four of them went this way. The Rudos actually did win one of them, and I suppose it must be so. Even though the Lucha Libre clearly began as a working class fantasy of the common man to be able to rise above evil and corruption, even in the face of despair and defeat, I suppose that the bad guys have to win occasionally in order to sustain the suspension of disbelief which makes the matches so enthralling. On the way out of the arena, a bunch of us bought some really cool masks. When we got back to the hostel, we staged a brief fake fight among four or five of us while wearing the masks. One of the Danish guys with us however, got more than he bargained for. A portly youth who happened to be hanging around the hostel decided to wrestle with the unsuspecting Dane in earnest. The Danish guy, Jens, went along with it goodnaturedly, until the kid managed to tackle him to the ground, and poor Jens didn't see it coming. The kid, who'd clearly eaten too many gorditas in his day, laid a full body slam on Jens, who can't be more than 140lbs soaking wet. We had a good laugh about that. So there you have it: I cheered for midgets in monkey suits, pugilistic women in tights, and muscled men in masks and speedos. All in all, it was a fantastic evening of utter nonsense.