A wrestle-mania night in Jalan Besar
There are few places around the Jalan Besar stretch where one could imagine bumping into a large gathering of people for some exciting event.
At the south-eastern end of the major street, the Sungei Road Thieves Market once developed a near-iconic reputation for its huge presence of second-hand goods peddlers and weekend crowd before its demise only months ago.
Bearing the namesake, Jalan Besar Stadium hosts football games of the S-League, which is in a moribund plight marked by a plunge in attendance and public interest.
Numerous eateries, cafes and pubs prop Jalan Besar as still the place with a slew of options for evening meals and leisure, although nothing of thrilling interest that would attract the young.
Otherwise, on any given night, the Singapore Foochow Association building illustrates this relatively dated insignificance of Jalan Besar.
One late October Friday evening, the Foochow establishment experiences some new life: Dozens of teenagers, coupled with dozens more of adults in their 20s and 30s, constitute a queue that snakes out and on the pavement along Tyrwhitt Road.
“What is going on here,” a chap, who looks to be in his late teens, inquires. I have seen him loitering around minutes ago and thought he was part of the waiting crowd.
“Oh, it’s some Wrestling City Asia event which involves Singapore and foreign wrestlers,” I answer.
Singapore professional wrestling — the WWE type that is a hybrid of martial arts, action stunts and drama/comedy play-acting — hitherto was quite unheard of.
That was until Singapore Pro Wrestling Pte Ltd started in 2011, with Singaporean Andruew Tang and Vadim Koryagin, a former Russian wrestler, behind the launch of the enterprise. Over the years, SPW managed to groom a stable of local wrestlers including Southeast Asian champion Trexxus, Kenneth “The Eurasian Dragon” Thexeira and Alexis Lee.
As SPW’s popularity swells, so do its fan-base and online presence, attracting curious folks such as Adrian who remembers the 1990s pre-WWE era of the World Wrestling Federation (WWF).
“I’m surprised it is so crowded,” says the 48-year old accountant who is among the handful of older spectators at the show titled Reload, and, like many others, is attending an SPW event for the first time.
One of these first-timers is Imran, seen slinging a replica of a wrestling championship belt across his shoulder. “(SPW) brings over an overseas superstar from WWE — Pete Dunne — that’s why I come here to see,” the fireman comments, believing that someone from the US wrestling franchise showing up for a bout underscores the popularity of Singapore wrestling.
Apparently, the appearance of Pete Dunne, a WWE United Kingdom Champion to be exact, is the main draw of Reload. About one hour before the official 7.30pm start, the 1.78 meters tall Englishman is already mingling with fans at the entrance lobby, signing autographs, and having photos taken with admirers, usually posing with a clenched fist resting against the side of his chin.
Sometime after 7pm, Andruew is sighted outside the Foochow building, looking busy with his smartphone in hand. As the stocky co-owner of SPW walks past, one man in the queue remarks to his friend: “The definition of definition…” Those words are used by Andruew to boast his stage persona.
Yes, Andruew himself is a professional wrestler going by the name, The Statement, and widely known for his menacing “Eeeeeyaaaaaaah!” taunt.
Tonight, the self-proclaimed “first pro wrestler of Singapore” will headline the main event match against Pete.
It is now 8pm and the dimly lit hall at the second floor of the building is still filling up. Event crews are shuttling back and forth, shifting stacks of chairs to avail more seats.
In the middle situates a typical four-sided wrestling ring, with its fabric skirt emblazoned with the lettering of show promoter Wrestling City Asia and the logo of GnB Comics, the event sponsor. The arena is overlooked and surrounded by a viewing balcony above.
An event official reaches for the microphone minutes later and asks for the spectators’ patience as the crews settle remaining logistical issues.
Meanwhile, at a small gateway erected at the back, left corner of the hall, a pair of hands holding a smartphone sticks out from between the two-piece curtain that covers the entrance. Upon snapping a shot, they withdraw into the darkness, although the muscular torso of their owner can be seen under the faint splashes of spotlight.
Must be one of the wrestlers, I thought.
Observing the liveliness around, I notice there are a number of women within the audience. I wonder how many of them are really fans of a sport, which is commonly dominated by burly men with bombastic egos.
Shirley, a retail assistant who sits in front of me and attends Reload alone, at least has a legit claim to be an avid follower of WWE. Some ladies might have reluctantly come to accompany an enthusiastic boyfriend. Perhaps they would be surprised by their own enjoyment of wrestling by the end of the night.
It is 8.15pm and the flamboyant ring emcee, decked in a silver-grey blazer and a white trouser bearing abstract flora designs, finally pops up.
Jesting about rushing from Changi Airport just to host tonight’s show, he energetically delivers a brief low-down on the evening’s programme and introduces the opening match: a dynamic ‘triple threat’ in which three wrestlers will slug it out with each other. The first person to defeat his opponent through a ‘1–2–3’ pinfall or submission wins.
The contenders soon enter: The Eurasian Dragon, a bulky dude, waltzes in his sleeveless leather vest, dull gold trunks and a shirt imprinted with his name. He is followed by the lean frame Aiden Rex before Power Warrior, a luchador-masked ‘heel’ (wrestling term for a ‘bad guy’ personality), makes his way to the ring and invites an avalanche of jeers. The Warrior proceeds to hoist himself on top of a ring post and shows off his Singapore Championship belt.
At the sound of the bell, the three men size their adversaries up; The Dragon and Rex then cooperatively try to knock down Power Warrior who escapes out of the ring, sits in with the front row spectators and refuses to step up.
The fight resumes and evolves into a cat-and-mouse of whoever would be struck next or fended against. Amidst the melee, SPW’s ‘general manager’ Carl Hella watches from outside the ring but fans familiar with the storied feuds of the organisation are aware that he is looking out for Power Warrior, his “Chosen One”.
As The Dragon leans against the ropes of the ring, Hella launches a sneak attack at his rear — a cheap, if not unauthorised, shot. Somebody in the audience is yelling “Referee kayu!” at the referee’s ‘poor’ management of the match.
Power Warrior manages to drag The Dragon out of the ring and unceremoniously throws him out of the hall while Hella ensures the former does not come in by holding the door. For all the devious antics, the GM could only stare in disbelief at Power Warrior’s eventual defeat at the hands of Rex, now the newly crowned Singapore Champion.
I have to admit; all these scripted chaos get me giggling a couple of times.
Pro wrestling is renowned for its staged, sometimes absurd, battles and I recall the ridiculous moments on TV: wrestlers who would suffer multiple bare-fist punches to the face and not have blood or bruises to show for; referees who are easily distracted by an unhappy wrestler as another cheats behind his back — or — easily knocked cold for an inordinate amount of time; wrestlers’ whose feuds and animosities have gotten out of control that a handful was once hit by a car, buried alive in a coffin or have their hair shaved off.
Albeit the absence of some of those outlandish incidences, tonight is no different.
The second bout, a fight between two rotund fellows, namely, sumo exponent Hoshi Tango from Japan and local boy Mighty Mighty, paces more casually and to nearly a glacial demonstration of force.
A series of weighty shoving leads to Hoshi and Mighty exchanging arm whippings on the other person’s chest until the latter succumbs to the beating and collapses like a felled tree.
The men are about to settle the match with a sumo contest when they are interrupted by rowdy Hong Konger Ho Ho Lun. After he chides the Singapore audience, in his strong native accent, for allowing the Hoshi-Mighty match to go downhill, somebody dashes from behind and past my seat, holding a championship belt which he uses to attack Hoshi and Mighty — Ho’s partner CZkey strikes.
Team Technique, consisting of locals Affi and MK, also appears and it is abruptly decided that the three tag teams (Hoshi and Mighty join hands ad hoc) will engage in a three-way match for the Southeast Asia Tag Team Championship.
In the slightly confusing six-man brawl, Team Technique emerges as the victor.
Next up, Lokomotiv, a swaggering Russian beefcake, takes on Baliyan Akki from India, who looks like a Bollywood action star with his flowy, curly hair, and black vest and leather tights.
The fight adopts a more serious and ‘professional’ tone as the wrestlers punch, kick, body slam and suplex each other. Close to half an hour later, Baliyan triumphs over Lokomotiv in an intense “number one contender” clash with its heavy-duty combat and devoid of the silliness in the previous two bouts.
It is timely that the showdown electrifies the otherwise light-hearted atmosphere in the hall. I don’t mind the occasional attempts at humor (some are weakly played out though), but the raw allure of wrestling is a no-nonsense carnage between these modern-day gladiators.
And there are three more matches to go until the headlining Pete Dunne-vs-The Statement fight.
One of these, a handicap tag team match that The Horrors — a trio which includes demented surgeon Dr Gore, Dave Vindictus and the psychotic Butcher — loses against the two-man Bad Company, thanks to Butcher’s insistence not to tag one of his mates.
It is a predictable prelude to defeat. The post-match drama ensues: Gore and Dave seemingly about to punish Butcher for his error and I am kind of expecting a kick in the face. They eventually left him alone in the ring as the outcast of the moment finds consolation in the audience’s applause.
A satisfying conclusion? I’m not quite sure. I am anticipating that Butcher’s teammates would trash him, prompting the arbitrary chivalry of Bad Company to interfere and ‘save’ the beleaguered bloke. Or that is the SPW-scripted vindication, however anticlimactic, Butcher deserves for now as fans ponder if he would be back in The Horrors’ good graces.
The Southeast Asian Championship bout between Singapore’s Trexxus and Japanese Masa Takanashi follows. A strategy display of grappling stretches through the initial minutes that the audience starts to grow a little impatience. I feel compelled to shout, “This is not MMA, lah!” but my fly-on-the-wall instinct inhibits me.
Fortunately, the Trexxus-Masa fight progresses to be as credibly aggressive as the one with Lokomotiv and Baliyan, if not more, and the Singaporean hits his opponent hard enough to retain his belt.
The final appetiser of the evening is either blatant eye candy or a gradually messy skirmish. In the Queen of Asia Championship Elimination match, local ladies Jane Foo and Alexis Lee contend with Jibzy (Thailand), Poppy (Malaysia) and Crystal (The Philippines) in a last-man-standing sort of matchup, where a flurry of attacks and maneuvers renders a chaotic scene. Some of the wrestlers punctuated their assaults with screeches, which the men in the audience cheekily response to in kind.
The tussle is barely discernible and this is not helped by the Mothership reporter who is standing in my angle of view while she videos the action — and when she is not. It is not the first time, personally, that someone from Mothership is a peeve but it is a story for another time.
The shorter fight, compared to the others, soon sees the women booted out one by one until Alexis and Crystal are left facing each other.
And the kooky moment comes: Kasey, a wrestler clad in striking blue gear with vivid blue facial paint across her eyes, crashes the bout as an opening video plays a fight montage in which she unleashes banshee screams. I doubt anyone knew this is about to happen.
Swiftly, she rushes to strike both Alexis and Crystal — at one point shrieking at violent decibel levels into one of their ears — before fleeing with the Queen of Asia belt resting on a stand near the wrestler entryway. The Kasey video continues to run for a minute or two and I am fast feeling piqued by her high-pitch yells on loop.
With the match declared a “no contest”, the frustrated wrestlers argue and plead with the referee over the outcome for a few bewildering minutes. The spectators are probably baffled too but the confused sentiments would quickly dissipate.
The Pete Dunne-Andruew Tang showdown is about to begin.
Cheers erupt at their most thunderous of the night as Pete walks in with arrogance in his steps. Dressed in a one-piece burgundy wrestling singlet and a matching coat with fur at its edges and shoulder, he dangles his WWE UK championship belt with his teeth and projects a foreboding demeanour of a heel. The wrestler, with his black mouth guard, resembles a youthful take of Jaws, the fictitious James Bond villain.
Andruew “The Statement”, who also receives a rousing welcome by the excited home crowd, enters the ring, only to have Pete throwing his coat at him, which accidentally lands on the referee. The Statement retrieves the apparel, playfully swipes it across his buttocks and between his legs, and ungraciously returns it to its owner. The Englishman is quick to promise a savage bout by flipping the bird at Andruew.
The fight is a no holds barred treat; with calculated ferocity, Pete launches devastating blows against Statement, threatening to end the match prematurely if it is not for the Singaporean’s tenacity. Andruew convincingly play-acts his agony with the punishment meted by his adversary while managing successful retaliations against the bigger Pete who dwarfs his around 1.64 meters tall competitor.
Fans chant Dunne’s nickname “Brusierweight” in the air, although at one point, it does sound like “Loserweight!” At the transient moments until the wrestlers blitz, “Eeeeeeyaaaaah!” cries can be heard among the local audience supporting Statement.
Inevitably, the action spills out of the ring. Pete ejects Andruew into a section of seats and not satisfied, he decides to repeat the act, this time, at my seating area — and not without sounding prior warning to the affected spectators. It is as visceral as it gets, witnessing up close the visibly pained Statement on the floor with a clutter of chairs.
The Bruiserweight does it again — then, scoops up a young fan and maneuvers his feet as a battering ram against the downed Statement. After parading the jubilant kid on his shoulder, he suddenly cups him in a ‘scoop slam’ stance and lurches forward, appearing prepared to launch the fan into the hollering crowd. Pete aborts his move in time; of course, he is play-acting. The boy is let loose and is probably thrilled to be ‘manhandled’ by a famous personality.
About half an hour passes when Pete at last kills hopes of a David-Goliath victory by finishing Andruew with his signature “Bitter End” slam. With a completed pinfall count, Pete preserves his honor but The Statement at least suffers a gracious defeat.
The Bruiserweight subtly breaks character in his rather magnanimous post-match speech, remarking that he has experienced one of his best fights this evening and suggesting a potential rematch.
And the ultimate validation Andruew perhaps has been waiting for: “From what I see tonight, you would soon have your first WWE champion,” Pete tells the Singapore audience.
The spectators cheer wildly.
A crowd is still present at the entrance area of the Foochow building several minutes since the Dunne-Statement match concludes.
Trexxus and Alexis talk with event crews who are helping to sell merchandise laid out on a couple of tables. Masa Takanashi, the Japanese wrestler, and Pete continue to greet and take photos with fans. The Butcher, breaking completely out of character, chats normally with well-wishers as he holds onto his plastic cleaver prop. Somebody complains to the senior referee about the umpire who oversees the opening triple-threat fight. Andruew, bare-chested and in the black spandex tights he wears for his fight, busies himself with meeting fans and friends gathered on the street outside the building.
Those are all a profound reminder of just how niche the Singapore wrestling scene is, sustained by a small but ardent community, and where engagements with the attending members of the public — vis-à-vis the more mainstream MMA and boxing events in the city — are more personal and a little more meaningful.
Yet, I wonder, with anything of the likes started out by Singaporeans, if SPW could survive long enough to cultivate a legacy that it can call its own decades later. Reload is far from the top-notch productions of the larger and more prominent shows in the US and Japan but it is somewhat entertaining and the possibilities for further expansion are there. It is otherwise the local public interest which is usually questionable.
“I think wrestling here would get more popular if they could invite more (foreign) wrestlers into this country,” says Shirley, the retail assistant I met earlier. Her suggestion is only part of a slew of other initiatives to address a complex challenge, which is rarely tackled with a silver bullet. Ironically, in the closing part of the show, the emcee refers to the short distance between Foochow and where the now slumping national football is based: Jalan Besar Stadium (at that moment, an awkward silence can be briefly and mildly felt in the hall).
Considering that the domestic football league, with all its resources, big plans and introduction of foreign players from top regional teams and competitions, squandered its opportunities in recent times, it has been but a rocky journey for such a major undertaking to maintain its longevity, especially since its long-gone heydays. One can only imagine the laborious road ahead for nascent spectators-based endeavours of the less popular, non-football types like pro wrestling.
As I reflect about the post-match scene that night, when the wrestlers — some of whom are performing on a part-time basis — mingled with the show attendees, it is downright obvious that passionate dedication still matters the most in the long run. Despite its imperfections, the setup of Reload mirrors this simple but deeply crucial element powering its development. It is undeniably the same thing that drives Andruew in carving the charismatic persona of The Statement, a character so memorable that his catchphrase is effortlessly contagious among followers.
I glimpse at the group of young men by the roadside, talking animatedly about the show they just watched tonight. In the midst of their conversation, and as if to underscore their enjoyment in unison, the teenagers let out one collective and by then familiar exclamation.
“Eeeeeyaaaaaah!”
