Lucha Libre en Vivo

“No hay cupo” The man in the cantaloupe tie, matching jacket and slicked back hair said as he looked disappointedly back at me.

We arrived in DF (Mexico City) a few hours earlier and as soon as I saw the poster proclaiming “Ultimo Guerrero, Rey Bucanero y Toscano contra Mistico, Blue Panther y Shocker" Martes el 27 a las 7:30, I knew we had to be there. Lucha Libre is a Mexican version of WWF but with more panache. Mythical standing, slick costumes, and fanatical devotees give Luchadores hero status we reserve for pro-football players in Nike commercials. The luchadores are clearly delineated into “good” and “evil” camps. Teams have a following that runs within families, one fighter has a TV series, several are stars of their own movies and we were standing at the gates of the heart of the action.

The dedicated fighter’s stadium sold out its 17,000 seats before we arrived and it looked like we might be too late to join in the revelry. We were disappointed but it was hard to be sorry as our bellies were full of the world famous chile en nogada feast that delayed our arrival. Several well-dressed Mexican couples were turned away by the man in the orange jacket as we stood there looking plaintive. Finally the man relented, radioed “upstairs” and with an encouraging wink told us to wait. Around the stadium entrance ambulantes were selling chile-coated jicama, tacos, chicharon, masks, and plenty of other lucha paraphernalia.

After a few minutes of uncertainty a sharp dressed man descended the stairs with about a dozen tickets. He was mobbed immediately. Elbowing her way through in perfect Mexican fashion a women jostled me out of her way and grabbed three of the seats, I threw a hip bumping the mob back and secured our tickets. We were in!

Up, up, up the stairs we climbed till we came out at the top of the upper deck. Head high stacks of empty beer crates already lined the back of the balcony. Steeply pitched stands packed with families, fawning couples, men in suits, teenagers with pierced eyebrows and tight black jeans and old women in house dresses portrayed a cross section of Capitalinos. Fifty meters below us under a giant TV scoreboard the blue canvas ring was flooded in light. The well-greased muscle bound luchadores made a rock star entry flanked by bikini babes bouncing their wares and lathering up the crowd.

The first two fights put the crowd well into revelry. Big men in tights and satin masks were jumping and thrusting to overwhelming cheers. A tuxedoed announcer heralded the third battle of the night, stepping aside just in time as flying bodies overtook the ring. You can imagine how the fight progressed from there…lots of punching, thumping, flipping and grimacing. The collision force of these beefy boys revealed artistry and choreography as they emerged impossibly unharmed from each major smashing. They are acrobats, wrestling with the coordination and, to Mercy's surprise, the grace of dancers.

At 9:45 the good guys had an astonishing turn of fate and vanquished their foes. The elated crowd swarmed down the stadium ramps with kids in full lucha libre capes and masks body slamming their daddies. By 10 we were back on the street with thousands of others haggling for our own masks…keep an eye out for Luchadores Ultimo Guerrero Canuche and Rey Misterio Mercy bringing Lucha Libre to you.