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GETTING TO GRIPS WITH CELTIC WRESTLING
“PUBLISH this!” THWACK. Thud.
As I lay there groaning faintly, I grimly realised I recognised every mark and ridge on the ceiling of Aberfan social club.
After an afternoon crash course in the art of wrestling and taking countless “bumps” – that’s falling down with authority to you and me – I thought the suspicious shoulder twinges and general all-over owch were proof positive this showbiz sport was legitimate.
But this last hit was different, a far cry from the cushion-strewn living rooms where I used to ply my wrestling trade as an additive-addled teen.
I’d just been knocked out of my trainers by a clothesline, a move where someone drives their forearm into your chest with bad intentions.
It had been delivered from the tattooed tree trunk that was Thomas Bassey’s arm, a man listed at a petrifying 21 stone. I weigh 12 and a half if I’m carrying a particularly heavy ring binder.
I should have known better than to agree to this, I think I thought - although my head was mostly full of strong pain-driven swear words.
Of course, this epiphany had to come in the middle of Crowning the King, Celtic Wrestling’s first big show since 2008.
And as the boots came in from the bad guys regardless of my now-ill health, the phrase “the show must go on” had never felt more appropriate.
Just a few hours and a dozen or two hits earlier, I had apprehensively got into the wrestling ring with Celtic Wrestling promoter and top billing wrestler Caiman.
Known affectionately as the Crocodilian Psycho, the 6ft 6 incher from Merthyr Tydfil trained in Kent before unleashing his own brand of wrestling on the Valleys a few years ago.
With a roster including Matt Vaughan, who recently spent time in America with WWE feeder organisation Ohio Valley Wrestling, the local promotion has been drawing in a young and passionate fan base as word of mouth spreads.
Of course, I was too preoccupied being used as a human training dummy by wrestlers T-Bone and D-Rock to care about trifles such as fan bases or wrestling quality.
Although the team were very friendly and exceptionally careful with my spindly football body, nothing quite prepares you for the exertion and physical battering that wrestling requires.
Even running against the ropes hurts if you don’t do it right, and I was far more lumbering lummox than galloping gazelle.
And being face down on the floor while a giant of a man breaks your legs against each other in the much-worse-than-it-sounds Texas Cloverleaf was a personal “highlight.”
All while my attacker asks if I was okay, of course.
When it was all over though and everyone had gone home exhausted, just those few hours proved what a labour of love it is for everyone involved.
It’s a far cry from the old days of Big Daddy and Giant Haystacks. These are real athletes, pulling off eye-boggling moves and risking their health because they love it.
As for me? Post trainer-kicking clothesline, I got my three seconds of glory later that night as Caiman’s manager against the dastardly Bassey.
With referee Chris Roberts’ back turned, I sneakily slipped Bassey’s patented knuckleduster to Caiman to help him provide the knockout blow, retain his title and send the triple-figure crowd into delirium.
Fixed? I couldn’t possibly say. Although Caiman’s own response to the age old question answers that one best:
“Is it staged? You know a lot of elements are staged, but it’s an artform at the end of the day.
“It’s when people say faked that’s when it gets my hair up. How can it be fake, when you are picking someone up, and slamming them on a canvas mat with a few wooden boards and a metal frame underneath?”
Couldn’t have put it better myself. Now, where did I put that ice pack?
A big thank you to Celtic Wrestling for their time and effort. For more information on upcoming shows and their training class, visit
www.celticpromotions.co.uk, contact
info@celticpromotions.co.uk or ring 07926 573793.
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