Hard Times

Over the weekend I attended the finals of the Johnny Weaver Invitational Tournament, sponsored by CWF Mid-Atlantic Wrestling. Front row seats. The main event was a championship challenge, pitting lifelong friends Trevor Lee and Chet Sterling against each other. The match began and ended with a hug, each man recognizing the importance of the match - Chet's dream of being a champion versus Trevor's right to a title he's held longer than any other champ in CWF Mid-Atlantic history. The night was full of great contests - even the pre-intermission bouts, typically of lower quality, were matches I would have hated to miss.

In terms of drama, this may be the finest match I've ever seen live. Lee and Sterling bring both human interest and brutality to the fight. (Some of the former is implicit in the knowledge that Trevor's father died unexpectedly at the end of last month.) Lee has created one of the most interesting characters in professional wrestling - a brooding mountain man (light years from the lovably dumb hillbillies of pro wrestling past), haunted by his demons, fiercely vengeful, violent almost against his will. (His entry music is the Ruby Friedman Orchestra's fatalistic "You'll Never Leave Harlan Alive.") Chet, by contrast, is, as his gear and promos advertise, "different." He's a fun guy who likes loud colors and flashy fashion accessories. An aging "wigga," he's high-strung and famously untrustworthy, yet there's something lovable about him, too. He has big dreams and big talent, and he's easily frustrated when he doesn't get the breaks he thinks he deserves.

I took the following video clips on my phone during the match. Very amateurish, but each captures a little of the spirit of the night. Most of the elements I love in pro wrestling are here: two comparably able wrestlers with strongly contrasting personalities, give and take, agony, sweat, sadism, grappling that boils over into crippling blows. and a climax intensified by the fighters' nerve-wracking exhaustion.