The Lure of Playing Rough
If someone gets knocked out in the ring and no one is there to see it, did it happen at all? What’s a spectator sport without its fans? Jake Gomez, known to his fans as Logan Black, the King of Chaos, is an amateur wrestler in New York’s underground scene. It’s a community of performers, referees and fans who gather each week for controlled, costumed combat.
“The outlet is being in the ring and being able to express the superhero inside you,” Mr. Gomez, a special education teacher by day, told The Times.
There’s the Cajun Crawdad, who counts a hermit crab for his tag team partner; Orian Dove, a villain in white fluffy boots; Pyro Pulse and Iceberg Joe, two brothers who wrestle together as The Element. And then there are the fans. “I love the characters, the creativity,” said Nova Gray, a 21-year- old who traveled from Baltimore to a recent fight night in Brooklyn. “Wrestling brings people together.”
After the matches were over, spectators and athletes were mingling outside the ring. Those relationships enable some of the wrestlers, who can make as little as $20 a show, to market merchandise to earn some extra cash.
“The mutual appreciation was palpable; everyone was an insider among outsiders,” The Times’s Ben Detrick wrote.
At Kaisei Gakuen, a prestigious Japanese secondary school that opened in 1871, fanatics also reign. Thousands of parents, teachers, alumni and students gather each year for the school’s sports festival. Most are there to watch botaoshi, the century- old game of “topple the pole.”
When each 90-second round begins, two dozen upperclassmen launch themselves toward either side of the field in an attempt to pull down a 3.5-meter pole defended by the other team. The game can be dangerous, and most Japanese schools have abandoned it. But teachers at Kaisei say it promotes teamwork, toughness and sportsmanship. Underclassmen eagerly await their chance to play.
“Since my first year in junior high school, I was watching my senpai,” Makoto Nakagawa, a recent Kaisei graduate, said of his upperclassmen. “The image of botaoshi was at the center of everything. It’s a tradition.”
For Nigerians, the generations- old West-African style of boxing known as dambe is a tradition that villagers gather to watch. The sport is brutal. Boxers wrap their stronger arm in cord for striking, the “spear,” and use the other arm for defense, the “shield.” The goal is to knock over an opponent within three rounds; all the while, singers and drummers play songs to embolden their fighters.
Broken noses, smashed teeth and knockouts are common. Fans, ring owners and wealthy patrons support their favorite fighters, some of whom now fight full time.
Faruk Bello formed a league in an effort to standardize rules and tamp down some of the sport’s wilder tendencies, including fan behavior. The league introduced a code of conduct for spectators, with threats of red cards and expulsion.
“We want one day to have a conventional dambe whereby all countries of the world will be participating,” Mr. Bello told The Times.
He dreams of one day taking an exhibition fight to Las Vegas.
“From Africa and on to the West,” Mr. Bello said. Where new fans await.