Honestly, I had not been to a rasslin’ match since the 1980s when my buddy The Weasel and I used to go darn near every Monday night to Greenville Memorial Auditorium
for the matches. Bell time, 8:15 PM. I used to love going to those matches and seeing all the larger than life wrestlers like Nature Boy Ric Flair, Blackjack Mulligan, Ox Baker, Ricky Steamboat and the biggest of them all, the late great Andre the Giant.
I knew that my old friend from many years ago had become a wrestler, and was doing it on a regional level for many years, but when I was married and living in Greenville, getting down here to Spartanburg for a nighttime wrestling event proved to be nearly impossible. But things change, and now I am living here in Sparkle City, and my room mate pal Tim and I traveled across town last Saturday night to the American Coliseum for American Pro Wrestling
, mostly to see our friend “Beautiful Bobby Diamond” in action.
I had no idea it would be so much fun. When we got there, a band was playing classic and southern rock songs, and as fate would have it, they started playing “Can’t You See” the minute we sat down. And to make it even better, they followed that one up with Toy Caldwell’s solo tune “Midnight Promises.” Truth is, they weren’t half bad.
The American Coliseum is not really the size of a coliseum. More the size of a mid-size bar. Only difference is, this isn’t a bar like atmosphere. Their wrestling shows are family friendly events. I enjoyed watching the kids getting into the ring action.
Speaking of fans, there were a few that I assume are regulars, one of which was a lady who yelled at the heels (bad guys) from beginning to end.
I have to say, they give you a lot of entertainment for the reasonable cover charge of ten bucks. It was loads of fun. Just like in the days of Mid Atlantic Championship Wrestling, these folks are doing it “old school.” I felt like it was 1979 again. Heels coming out onto the stage- I mean ring- and talking junk and getting into it with outspoken fans.
Now there’s no way I can remember the names of all the rasslers we saw. I do remember Chief J. Eagle, a great, loud mouth baddie that, judging by the tons of posters on the walls, is one of their biggest stars. And there was a young wrestler that seemed to be adored by the crowd named Dusty Money. I know, I didn’t get the name either, but he did well. There was a tag team called The Brigade, and just a whole lot of others.
At one point, two of the wrestlers got into an unplanned (yeah, right
) scuffle and all of the wrestlers and referees came running out from the dressing rooms to help pull the two off of one another. Well, at least for the moment.
Finally the time came to see my buddy Bobby “Diamond” in action, teaming up with a guy called The Rebel Kid, complete with confederate flags sewn onto his long red pants. It was a fun match. I forget the name of the heels they wrestled against, but in the end, Bobby and the Kid lost the match. Hey, even the best lose once in a while, right?
When I left after over three hours of fun, I vowed to return soon, and let my inner redneck run loose again. Just too much fun.