My trainer, Stampede Wrestling legend Michael Richard Blais, kept his first-day instructions simple: Bring kneepads and soft shoes to the Clandestine Wrestling Society school. I showed up in wrestling boots and signed up for four months.
On day one, I impressed everyone — including myself — with my cardio and agility as I ran the ropes, shoulder rolled across the mat and hopped the turnbuckles. “It feels like you’ve done a little bit of training before,” said my future opponent Taryn from Accounting (actually an elementary teacher). But my confidence shattered once another body entered the ring and the training became high-stakes choreography. Every move required communication — a subtle squeeze of the arm, a whispered cue — because if two wrestlers aren’t aligned, someone gets hurt.
My biggest obstacle was my directional dyslexia. I often hear “left” as “right” and, worse, “duck” as “jump.” This led to Taryn and me clashing skulls mid-air. Blais gently asked if this was something I dealt with in daily life. It was. We worked around it by leaning into my strengths: slams, rope work and my beloved hurricanrana, a move that looks like I’m flipping someone over my knees but is purely sleight of hand — or in this case, leg.
Finally, it was showtime. I debuted as “Fake Nooz Neville,” a smarmy journalist in a newspaper-print singlet whose signature move was spreading misinformation about his opponents. Our match devolved — as all the best ones do — into an all-out brawl: wrestlers flying into the crowd, props shattering and a folded chair shot to my back.
Incredibly, none of it hurt — part good training and part adrenaline. The rush was indescribable. And when Taryn finally pinned me, the audience exploded. They got their villain’s comeuppance. I got catharsis, closure and a headrush I’ll be chasing for years.
Everything about wrestling is performance art. And somewhere in all those theatrics, a surprising little truth sneaks in about good and evil and the pleasure of letting yourself get knocked down for the sake of a good story.
$250/month membership, clandestinewrestlingsociety.com