Wrestling Wonders: My First “Lucha Libre” Experience
Grappling with Mexico’s pugnaciously vibrant popular culture
Attending a live “lucha libre” spectacle had been a fixture on my bucket list for quite some time. So, when my friend Alma invited me to join her and a group of aficionados for an unforgettable night in the arena, I was more than ready to dive into the thrilling chaos of the ring.
Before heading to the show, we gathered at Julio’s place for a pre-game beer and crash course in lucha libre 101. I soon realized that Julio’s encyclopedic knowledge of the topic was solely outdone by his infectious enthusiasm. With a mischievous twinkle in his eye, he regaled us with tales of the “técnicos” and the “rudos” respectively the heroes and villains of the ring, and even showed off an authentic mask once worn by the legendary El Santo. When I asked if he ever wore it for, um, *private* occasions, he just grinned and changed the subject.
As we made our way to the show, I could not help but feel a surge of anticipation.
Inside the arena, the atmosphere was electric. I let myself completely immerse in it as I settled into my seat, cold beer in hand, prepared for the show to unfold. The first rounds pitted lesser-known fighters against each other in the ring. Among them was a young, pink-haired wrestler wearing a yellow outfit. He looked like he’d been electrocuted at high voltage, stiffening every strand of his peculiar hairdo.
Julio couldn’t resist shouting at him cynically, “Go home, Pikachu!” Many spectators laughed and turned to look at him. As time went on, the challenges grew more difficult, the luchadores more skilled.
It all culminated in an incredible spectacle starring the arena’s very best fighters. Los Tres Diamantes represented the “bad guys,” while Niebla Roja, one of the most popular “good guys,” entered the scene like a god descending from heaven, accompanied by his entire team. The show was performed with great pomp and style, including a master of ceremonies who sustained the suspense to the beat of the percussionist’s drumsticks.
The lights blazed from all four corners of the arena, bathing the cheerleaders in a dazzling glow as they came down the stairs. They were followed by the luchador, who elegantly flung his bright satin cape into the crowd, revealing impressive triceps.
The audience grew excited, people leapt to their feet, and shouts of praise mixed with scattered boos from fans of the other team. Then the real show began. And what a show it was! I may not know anything about the subject, but even I could tell that the final rounds were top-quality. The opponents dealt and received harsh blows, and any trained acrobat would have envied their aerial leaps.
The “bad guys” are usually the best, Julio explained, but they often lose as a result of getting disqualified. This round promised to be evenly matched, with peerless talent on both sides — each fighter with his own style, of course.
Ultimately, the “good guys” put up a valiant effort, but Los Tres Diamantes emerged victorious. They looked spectacular in their waxed leather garments and matching masks. An enormous belt, inlaid with a golden metal plate, covered almost half of each fighter’s abdomen.
Alma and I felt sorry for the “good guys,” who took a real beating — not just a physical one, either. “I’m going to give Niebla Roja my phone number and offer him a massage to soothe his aches and pains,” she said with a twinkle in her eye.
It was a wonderful evening, and Julio confirmed that we’d taken in a first-rate show. Still, the true highlight of the night was the camaraderie shared among friends as we laughed, cheered and bonded over our shared passion. A night that left me eagerly anticipating my next trip to the arena!
This story is an addition to the series “ Between Tacos and Tequila: Chronicles of an Adventurous Belgian in Mexico”
If you like this story, you will also enjoy the adventures of Valentina in my novels “Chronicle of a Longing” and “Dear Wednesday”.
