Rowdy, intimate and a little punk rock: The new generation of wrestlers is drawing crowds across the country | Canada Voices

One August evening in Toronto, a line is wrapped around the corner of the East End United Church. The space by day is reserved for music programs, sermons and basketball games. But once every few months, up to 400 people sit in the underground gymnasium, eating pizza, drinking beer and sporting Bret Hart T-shirts – waiting to watch a rowdy wrestling event.

On this night, the headlining title match is between Toronto-native Channing Decker and Mike “Speedball” Bailey from Laval, Que. Decker enters the ring looking like he stepped out of the 1980s, sporting a leather jacket, pink knee pads, tight spandex shorts and a curly brown mullet. As soon as the main fight looks like it’s about to start, Bailey hits Decker unexpectedly, launching a kick to the head, and grabs him in a headlock. He then flips him over his shoulder, lands on him and repeatedly strikes his head.

This potential danger element is part of the appeal. These independent wrestling events have slowly gathered steam over the past five years, largely thanks to the arrival of All Elite Wrestling (AEW) in 2019, a roster of wrestlers who produce live-streamed matches. Here, fans can watch more authentic, technical and contemporary wrestling that’s still punk-rock but without the WWE cues.

Decker created Greektown Wrestling in 2015 to help promote himself and his friends and the league has now spawned into a full-time business that tours to London, Hamilton and Waterloo for 12 events a year. Decker, 36, said his aim with Greektown has always been to find that sweet spot between not being too vulgar for children and pleasing adults who want to watch wrestlers tangle with each other much like watching a safe car-wreck.

“Anyone can go in there and throw a punch and give your buddy a black eye, but can you make it look like you’re giving him a black eye and have him barely feel anything at all? That should be the goal of every wrestler,” he said.

Shows like this are starting to become more popular across Canada and in the U.S. according to the wrestler, and Canadian indie promotions such as Smash Wrestling (London, Toronto), Alpha-1 (Hamilton), Battle Arts Academy (Mississauga), as well as U.S. organizers such as Ring of Honor, House of Glory and Game Changer Wrestling are giving wrestlers opportunities to hone their craft.

The intimacy of the events, where fans can meet the wrestlers, may be part of the appeal, says Hamilton-based Vanessa Lynn, who started wrestling at the age of 15. She created Off the Rope Studio, the only female-owned professional wrestling school in Canada, three years ago.

“You get a rush being in the ring,” she says of indie events. “You can’t really get that anywhere else.”

And fans are willing to pay for this rush. Greektown tickets start at $39 while a VIP table for six is $449. For fans searching for streaming options, Triller TV offers a $60 yearly subscription for not just on-demand indie shows but also major events such as Maple Leaf Pro Wrestling, Total Nonstop Action Wrestling and All Elite Wrestling.

“I think indie wrestling is going to get bigger and bigger,” says Lynn. “People are noticing it. WWE talks about some of the independents now, and people go what’s that? They look it up and see that there’s local wrestling in every town,” she said.

For wrestlers looking to get to the pro level, travelling to indie shows is a way to expand their skills, make connections and perform in front of a new audience to build a following.

Bryce Hansen spends most of his weekends driving around Ontario, from Sudbury to Ottawa and all the small towns in between, to work or perform at indie events. Also known as the Stallion Kid, the Listowel, Ont., native now has 67 matches under his belt. He might only earn $100 over the course of the weekend, but that’s not a deterrent, as his goal is to rack up enough hours in the ring so fans can recognize his name as he works toward making this his full-time job.

Chelsea Green views the indie scene as a formative training ground. The wrestler, from Victoria, B.C., will be featured in WWE Survivor Series: WarGames in Vancouver later this fall.

“I lived in Japan. I broke my collarbone in India. I wrestled luchadores in Mexico. It shaped me in the sense that I can get through anything. And I did all that and did it for $20 a night,” Green said. “If you want something enough you will go through hell and high water to get it.”

In the decade since Green started her career, she’s felt a shift in the industry. Wrestlers can now earn a living through multiple streams of income through paid sponsorships, partnerships, creating content on their YouTube channels and websites, growing their audience on social media, selling merchandise, appearing in commercials and playing small roles in films and on TV.

“I think indie wrestlers are just stunt workers,” said Green. “You’re always going to see the craziest stuff at independent shows because we’re trying so hard to be seen by WWE. We just want to get paid, so we can enjoy what we’re doing and continue to be the absolute psychopaths that we all are.”

Back inside the four walls of the East End Union Church, Decker and Bailey’s match comes to an end with an unexpected tag-team match win against Derek Dillinger and Wes Barkley. It finishes abruptly with the pair dropping two tables on their opponents, which leaves them writhing and wincing inside the ring.

Decker, who was caked in sweat and had blood on his elbows clutched his title belt in his left hand while holding a microphone in his right. He then yelled: “If you continue to believe in Greektown Wrestling, Greektown Wrestling will live forever!”