A right of passage for every boy during the 90s was an experience with professional wrestling. I often fantasized about the title championship fights between wrestling greats such as Shawn Michaels and Bret ‘The Hitman’ Heart.
I would stay up late Monday nights to catch the weekly dose of televised drama, yet never summoned the courage to ask my parents to purchase a pay-per-view event of the season’s biggest thriller, the night in which every match was a title fight of some sort.
My father was a corporate manager for an office supply company, and didn’t exactly share my passion for wrestling. I remember one occasion when he told me that the WWF ordered hundreds of pre-cracked tables and chairs so they will break easier on impact. That was obviously his attempt to break the news to me that wrestling is fixed, an entertaining but orchestrated performance. As a 10-year-old boy who had developed an unhealthy obsession with Stone Cold Steve Austin, I didn’t believe him.
Mexican-American wrestlers who had hit the big time, guys like Rey Mysterio and Eddie Guerrero, gave me a small taste of lucha libre, south-of-the-border wrestling that has migrated north. After Sunday night on the city’s Westside, however, I’ve now gained a full appreciation of the spectacle.
I attended the Mexican-American Wrestling match at Olga’s Bar and Grill Sunday night, a local event that takes places once every two weeks on the city’s Westside. The bar itself is the very definition of the word “dive,” with a cash-only policy and a bar covered with Bud Light, which must be the national beer of lucha libre al norte.
I arrived with only vague expectations. Whatever I expected, my expectations were exceeded. Follow the page below as I documented the night through my chosen medium of photography.