Even the longest of journeys begins with but a single step.
May 4, 2020 18:39:07 GMT -5
via mobile
Blair Buchannan-Stylez likes this
Post by kosm0s on May 4, 2020 18:39:07 GMT -5
Lucha libre. Literally translated as ‘free fight’. It isn’t “sports entertainment”. It isn’t quite, “professional wrestling” either.
Then, what exactly is Lucha Libre, you ask?
In Mexico…it is a religion.
Honourable tecnicos fight against dastardly rudos for the cheers and admiration of, not just the crowds in the arena, but the hearts of the very people of Mexico.
Luchadors and luchadoras were like folk-heroes to the poor, working classes. The masks held an undeniable truth that no other sport could offer.
Anyone could be under the mask. More than just a luchador’s identity, the mask was a symbol.
A symbol that anyone could make something truly great of themselves if they worked hard enough, if they fought hard enough. If they put their heart and very soul into it, anyone could be a hero! A villain! But most importantly, anyone could be a star!
Well, almost anyone. Realistically, the speed, strength and fortitude required to make it through training, rise up the ranks and eventually be considered amongst the best luchadors in Mexico, was not achievable by just anyone. The intense training alone weeded out any lacking the necessary endurance and dedication. Only the very best ever made it to the top, to the grand arenas.
Elite luchadors like, Tiranosaurio.
At just over six foot three, Tiranosaurio towered over most other luchadors. He was the current, and five time, LLL World Champion, a living legend in the late stages of his prime and would, no doubt, be considered an all time great. Maybe even the best ever.
Using a combination of traditional Lucha Libre techniques, stunning aerial moves and taking advantage of his natural size and strength advantage, he dominated all competition set before him. Losses were almost unheard of, clean ones even more so. All of them avenged. His Luchas de Apuestas record, spotless. Upon his mantle, hung the masks of no less than twenty seven luchadors.
There had been no one like him before. There would likely never be another like him again.
He was not just a champion, he accomplished what every wrestler who had ever laced up a pair of boots had dreamed of. He became bigger than the sport, he became an icon. A national hero.
But this isn’t the story of Tiranosaurio. This is the story of his son.
Chapter 1
Born into and growing up in the vast shadow of the great and powerful Tiranosaurio, he didn’t simply love his father as any son would. He grew up idolizing his father, worshiping him.
His childhood was dominated by the sights, sounds, and smells of the arenas. It was easy, at times, to look back at it all and smile. After all, all of it had led him to this moment.
The years watching under the bright lights and colourful banners. The years spent listening to the roaring of the crowd. Even the smell of the hanging cloud of cigarette smoke, and the odor of stale beer and the thousands of people packed into an arena.
He remembered it as though it were yesterday; he and his mother went to every match, and how it hurt them so that they couldn’t tell everyone that the man whom the crowds cheered for was their father and husband. As hard as it was to hold his tongue as a child, the burden was especially cruel to his mother.
The long trips away, beautiful women from all over the world throwing themselves at her husband.
Her husband was devoted, but Tiranosaurio wore no wedding band. His agents saying it was best to have the female fans thinking they had a chance. Over time, it became a slap in the face to her wedding vows.
So, there they sat. Each and every match they could make it to, cheering alongside thousands, oftentimes alongside an entire nation. The man who made them scream and clammer for more, night after night.
The man the women screamed for and the men wished they could be…was the same man who, along side his mother, had worked hard to provide the kind of life for their family that they themselves could have only dreamed of.
Inspiring the boy to be whatever he wanted, there was only one choice. Of course he would be a luchador, like his father before him. For better or for worse. The burden upon his poor mother doubled.
It was one thing for her to live this life, she couldn't bare to see her only son follow that path too. It became too much.
The fights, the doctors, the medication. She tried all of them to save her marriage as the agents and bookers dangled models and starting Spanish language movie roles before him. These forces swirled around his childhood, it cost her everything.
Losing her, it changed him. It sent him tumbling down a path the led to only one thing. The ring. The day of her funeral was the last day of his childhood, and the first day of his training.
With his father now being all the boy had, the die was cast. The boy would be a prodigy, the greatest luchador ever! His son would surpass even Tiranosaurio!
After all, that was how legacies were founded. He would pass the mantle to his son and his son to his, and so on. His mask would live on forever…HE would live forever! The mighty Tiranosaurio would be immortal!
Just as the road to hell is paved with good intentions, things don’t always go as planned, genetics are unpredictable at best. While maintaining his mother’s calm and grace, he also inherited her stature.
At just shy of five foot five, he was not the physical specimen his father was, that much was clear from the beginning. Size was not teachable, the boy simply didn’t have it.
His training would be best described as difficult at best. Each of his father’s peers seemingly dedicated to making him quit. All four of them were successful luchadors in their own right, and all of them held one thing in common.
Each of them had done something extraordinary, each had accomplished a feat many a luchador could not. A feat many a luchador had lost his mask attempting to accomplish.
Each of them had defeated Tiranosaurio for the Liga Lucha Libre World Heavyweight Championship. Super Serpiente, Murciélago Vampiro Junior, Fénix de Plata, and Gran Mistico.
He preserved. He took his beatings, but most importantly, he learned his lessons well. With time, he eventually earned the respect of his father’s four greatest rivals turned closest friends.
There was only one more thing to do. Then, his training would truly be complete.
In an empty arena, six men gathered. He wore a blank white mask. He entered the arena looking around, imagining what it would be like to have the crowd chanting for him.
Then he saw ‘him’. There he was, standing in the ring. Tiranosaurio.
The four former champion luchadors each gave him a final piece of advice.
“Keep moving.”
“Rely on speed, not power.”
“Rely on technique, not speed.”
“Don’t look in there and see your father, your father isn’t in that ring boy!”
Stepping through the ropes, he looked at his father as he paced the corner of the ring furthest from him. He watched as he stretched on the ropes.
He couldn’t be serious? He wasn’t truly expected to…
“Pass this final test and claim your mask.” His father rushed at him, and it began.
With Super Serpiente serving as referee, he fought, not his father, but one of the greatest luchadors in history.
Seventy eight minutes later, it was over. None of the six have ever spoken on the result of this father/son Apollo/Rocky style bout. But when it was over, they hugged.
Tears filled his white mask as his father unlaced it, “Take off your mask. Kneel.”
This was it, his moment. The moment he had waited almost his whole life for. The moment he had worked for every day since his mother’s death.
Knelt before his father, the man he had worshiped from the moment he watched his father in the ring for the very first time. He heard the words just as he had heard in his words.
“I love you my only son…” Isn’t it funny how, when dreaming we often forget how quickly dreams can be turned into nightmares.
His world shattered as his father finished. “…you…you are not Tiranosaurio Junior.” Killing him would have been more merciful.
Hanging on to any shred of hope, and believing he had disappointed his father somehow, the boy began to plead his case, “Papa…I…”
He was silenced with a wave of Tiranosaurio’s gloved hand, “No, you are not Tiranosaurio Junior, you are your own creature.”
Super Serpiente produced a green scaled mask similar to Tiranosaurio’s but more youthful and cartoon themed. He would be a tecnico after all.
“Fast, soaring high, ready to swoop down upon your prey. You are; Pequeño Dinosaurio. More importantly, your flight leaves tomorrow. Your debut will be for an American promotion known as Outlaw Professional Wrestling. Show them Lucha Libre Pequeño Dinosaurio, show them our legacy. Build your legacy!”
The next day…
His father’s words echoed throughout his mind as people and passing cars zipped around like ants scurrying through their tunnels while his flight descended.
The Captain’s announcement, including the location and local weather, went unheard. His mind was flooded with questions. Yet one bubbled to the surface.
Why was he here?
Surely with his training now compete, his trainers and father could have found him bookings in Mexico. Or at least Southern California…
Why was he here then? Halfway across the United States. Alone. Mere days away from debuting for a company whose headquarters he couldn’t find if his life depended on it.
Patiently waiting as the skeleton crew hired by his father prepped for disembarkment. His father had, in particular, stressed patience as a virtue worth cultivating. It was hard though, so much work had gone into this moment, yet none of those who were responsible could make the trip with him.
It was the final lesson; only he would be in the ring when the bell rang.
The challenges and obstacles he would face, he would ultimately face them, alone.
This would be the beginning. The beginning of his story. The work would now truly begin.
Being raised surrounded by Lucha Libre, he knew nothing about this OPW other than that management wasn’t bothered enough with their latest signing to meet with him regarding his contract. There wasn’t even an announcement regarding his debut, a congratulations on his signing with the company, nothing. He, the son of a legend, was being treated as though he were a nobody!
As the pilot and copilot shuffled off the plane ahead of him, he felt his clinched fist slam down on the armrest as he rose. He still struggled with patience.
But how could he be patient at a time like this? If only his father had seen fit to pass onto him the name of Tiranosaurio Junior! Oh the doors that would have come flying open for him!
Patience.
Taking a deep breath, he forces a smile and a nod as he passes the flight crew on his way onto the tarmac.
Through glass doors and past the ghost town the private airport terminal had become, he enters a corridor that seems as though it might stretch to eternity. The light reflecting off the bland white tiles would have normally bothered him, but his mind had wandered off on him again. He was obsessed.
Why didn’t father give me his mask?
The night he gained his Tiranosaurio’s blessing to begin his career should have been the happiest moment of his life. The payoff for the years of no friends, no partying, practically schooling himself on the road as he chased his father around Mexico and the world a globe.
For over an hour, he had shown that his style would indeed work. That despite being a smaller luchador; he could rely on speed, precision, technique and timing.
He had dreamed of that moment! The moment when he knelt before his father to become Tiranosaurio Junior, not Pequeño Dinosaurio!
His frustration was getting the better of him. He was barely nineteen, he had so much to learn.
Staring at the empty conveyor as he awaited his baggage, he could think of only one thing. Go to OPW, win the crowd, claim the mask.
No…claim his birthright.
He had never been to Allentown, Pennsylvania before. He had never heard of his opponents, Carter Alpha and Kyle Mehr before. None of it would matter, his goal was clear.
Allentown, Pennsylvania would be the site. Outlaw Pro Wrestling’s Showcase the stage. Showcase would truly live up to it’s name.
The debut of Pequeno Dinosaurio and the chance the prove himself worthy of not just the OPW Pureblood Championship opportunity that went to the winner, but also a chance to prove to his father that the ‘little dinosaur’ was ready to fight any and all comers, that he was ready to become Tiranosaurio Jr….
Then, what exactly is Lucha Libre, you ask?
In Mexico…it is a religion.
Honourable tecnicos fight against dastardly rudos for the cheers and admiration of, not just the crowds in the arena, but the hearts of the very people of Mexico.
Luchadors and luchadoras were like folk-heroes to the poor, working classes. The masks held an undeniable truth that no other sport could offer.
Anyone could be under the mask. More than just a luchador’s identity, the mask was a symbol.
A symbol that anyone could make something truly great of themselves if they worked hard enough, if they fought hard enough. If they put their heart and very soul into it, anyone could be a hero! A villain! But most importantly, anyone could be a star!
Well, almost anyone. Realistically, the speed, strength and fortitude required to make it through training, rise up the ranks and eventually be considered amongst the best luchadors in Mexico, was not achievable by just anyone. The intense training alone weeded out any lacking the necessary endurance and dedication. Only the very best ever made it to the top, to the grand arenas.
Elite luchadors like, Tiranosaurio.
At just over six foot three, Tiranosaurio towered over most other luchadors. He was the current, and five time, LLL World Champion, a living legend in the late stages of his prime and would, no doubt, be considered an all time great. Maybe even the best ever.
Using a combination of traditional Lucha Libre techniques, stunning aerial moves and taking advantage of his natural size and strength advantage, he dominated all competition set before him. Losses were almost unheard of, clean ones even more so. All of them avenged. His Luchas de Apuestas record, spotless. Upon his mantle, hung the masks of no less than twenty seven luchadors.
There had been no one like him before. There would likely never be another like him again.
He was not just a champion, he accomplished what every wrestler who had ever laced up a pair of boots had dreamed of. He became bigger than the sport, he became an icon. A national hero.
But this isn’t the story of Tiranosaurio. This is the story of his son.
Chapter 1
Born into and growing up in the vast shadow of the great and powerful Tiranosaurio, he didn’t simply love his father as any son would. He grew up idolizing his father, worshiping him.
His childhood was dominated by the sights, sounds, and smells of the arenas. It was easy, at times, to look back at it all and smile. After all, all of it had led him to this moment.
The years watching under the bright lights and colourful banners. The years spent listening to the roaring of the crowd. Even the smell of the hanging cloud of cigarette smoke, and the odor of stale beer and the thousands of people packed into an arena.
He remembered it as though it were yesterday; he and his mother went to every match, and how it hurt them so that they couldn’t tell everyone that the man whom the crowds cheered for was their father and husband. As hard as it was to hold his tongue as a child, the burden was especially cruel to his mother.
The long trips away, beautiful women from all over the world throwing themselves at her husband.
Her husband was devoted, but Tiranosaurio wore no wedding band. His agents saying it was best to have the female fans thinking they had a chance. Over time, it became a slap in the face to her wedding vows.
So, there they sat. Each and every match they could make it to, cheering alongside thousands, oftentimes alongside an entire nation. The man who made them scream and clammer for more, night after night.
The man the women screamed for and the men wished they could be…was the same man who, along side his mother, had worked hard to provide the kind of life for their family that they themselves could have only dreamed of.
Inspiring the boy to be whatever he wanted, there was only one choice. Of course he would be a luchador, like his father before him. For better or for worse. The burden upon his poor mother doubled.
It was one thing for her to live this life, she couldn't bare to see her only son follow that path too. It became too much.
The fights, the doctors, the medication. She tried all of them to save her marriage as the agents and bookers dangled models and starting Spanish language movie roles before him. These forces swirled around his childhood, it cost her everything.
Losing her, it changed him. It sent him tumbling down a path the led to only one thing. The ring. The day of her funeral was the last day of his childhood, and the first day of his training.
With his father now being all the boy had, the die was cast. The boy would be a prodigy, the greatest luchador ever! His son would surpass even Tiranosaurio!
After all, that was how legacies were founded. He would pass the mantle to his son and his son to his, and so on. His mask would live on forever…HE would live forever! The mighty Tiranosaurio would be immortal!
Just as the road to hell is paved with good intentions, things don’t always go as planned, genetics are unpredictable at best. While maintaining his mother’s calm and grace, he also inherited her stature.
At just shy of five foot five, he was not the physical specimen his father was, that much was clear from the beginning. Size was not teachable, the boy simply didn’t have it.
His training would be best described as difficult at best. Each of his father’s peers seemingly dedicated to making him quit. All four of them were successful luchadors in their own right, and all of them held one thing in common.
Each of them had done something extraordinary, each had accomplished a feat many a luchador could not. A feat many a luchador had lost his mask attempting to accomplish.
Each of them had defeated Tiranosaurio for the Liga Lucha Libre World Heavyweight Championship. Super Serpiente, Murciélago Vampiro Junior, Fénix de Plata, and Gran Mistico.
He preserved. He took his beatings, but most importantly, he learned his lessons well. With time, he eventually earned the respect of his father’s four greatest rivals turned closest friends.
There was only one more thing to do. Then, his training would truly be complete.
In an empty arena, six men gathered. He wore a blank white mask. He entered the arena looking around, imagining what it would be like to have the crowd chanting for him.
Then he saw ‘him’. There he was, standing in the ring. Tiranosaurio.
The four former champion luchadors each gave him a final piece of advice.
“Keep moving.”
“Rely on speed, not power.”
“Rely on technique, not speed.”
“Don’t look in there and see your father, your father isn’t in that ring boy!”
Stepping through the ropes, he looked at his father as he paced the corner of the ring furthest from him. He watched as he stretched on the ropes.
He couldn’t be serious? He wasn’t truly expected to…
“Pass this final test and claim your mask.” His father rushed at him, and it began.
With Super Serpiente serving as referee, he fought, not his father, but one of the greatest luchadors in history.
Seventy eight minutes later, it was over. None of the six have ever spoken on the result of this father/son Apollo/Rocky style bout. But when it was over, they hugged.
Tears filled his white mask as his father unlaced it, “Take off your mask. Kneel.”
This was it, his moment. The moment he had waited almost his whole life for. The moment he had worked for every day since his mother’s death.
Knelt before his father, the man he had worshiped from the moment he watched his father in the ring for the very first time. He heard the words just as he had heard in his words.
“I love you my only son…” Isn’t it funny how, when dreaming we often forget how quickly dreams can be turned into nightmares.
His world shattered as his father finished. “…you…you are not Tiranosaurio Junior.” Killing him would have been more merciful.
Hanging on to any shred of hope, and believing he had disappointed his father somehow, the boy began to plead his case, “Papa…I…”
He was silenced with a wave of Tiranosaurio’s gloved hand, “No, you are not Tiranosaurio Junior, you are your own creature.”
Super Serpiente produced a green scaled mask similar to Tiranosaurio’s but more youthful and cartoon themed. He would be a tecnico after all.
“Fast, soaring high, ready to swoop down upon your prey. You are; Pequeño Dinosaurio. More importantly, your flight leaves tomorrow. Your debut will be for an American promotion known as Outlaw Professional Wrestling. Show them Lucha Libre Pequeño Dinosaurio, show them our legacy. Build your legacy!”
The next day…
His father’s words echoed throughout his mind as people and passing cars zipped around like ants scurrying through their tunnels while his flight descended.
The Captain’s announcement, including the location and local weather, went unheard. His mind was flooded with questions. Yet one bubbled to the surface.
Why was he here?
Surely with his training now compete, his trainers and father could have found him bookings in Mexico. Or at least Southern California…
Why was he here then? Halfway across the United States. Alone. Mere days away from debuting for a company whose headquarters he couldn’t find if his life depended on it.
Patiently waiting as the skeleton crew hired by his father prepped for disembarkment. His father had, in particular, stressed patience as a virtue worth cultivating. It was hard though, so much work had gone into this moment, yet none of those who were responsible could make the trip with him.
It was the final lesson; only he would be in the ring when the bell rang.
The challenges and obstacles he would face, he would ultimately face them, alone.
This would be the beginning. The beginning of his story. The work would now truly begin.
Being raised surrounded by Lucha Libre, he knew nothing about this OPW other than that management wasn’t bothered enough with their latest signing to meet with him regarding his contract. There wasn’t even an announcement regarding his debut, a congratulations on his signing with the company, nothing. He, the son of a legend, was being treated as though he were a nobody!
As the pilot and copilot shuffled off the plane ahead of him, he felt his clinched fist slam down on the armrest as he rose. He still struggled with patience.
But how could he be patient at a time like this? If only his father had seen fit to pass onto him the name of Tiranosaurio Junior! Oh the doors that would have come flying open for him!
Patience.
Taking a deep breath, he forces a smile and a nod as he passes the flight crew on his way onto the tarmac.
Through glass doors and past the ghost town the private airport terminal had become, he enters a corridor that seems as though it might stretch to eternity. The light reflecting off the bland white tiles would have normally bothered him, but his mind had wandered off on him again. He was obsessed.
Why didn’t father give me his mask?
The night he gained his Tiranosaurio’s blessing to begin his career should have been the happiest moment of his life. The payoff for the years of no friends, no partying, practically schooling himself on the road as he chased his father around Mexico and the world a globe.
For over an hour, he had shown that his style would indeed work. That despite being a smaller luchador; he could rely on speed, precision, technique and timing.
He had dreamed of that moment! The moment when he knelt before his father to become Tiranosaurio Junior, not Pequeño Dinosaurio!
His frustration was getting the better of him. He was barely nineteen, he had so much to learn.
Staring at the empty conveyor as he awaited his baggage, he could think of only one thing. Go to OPW, win the crowd, claim the mask.
No…claim his birthright.
He had never been to Allentown, Pennsylvania before. He had never heard of his opponents, Carter Alpha and Kyle Mehr before. None of it would matter, his goal was clear.
Allentown, Pennsylvania would be the site. Outlaw Pro Wrestling’s Showcase the stage. Showcase would truly live up to it’s name.
The debut of Pequeno Dinosaurio and the chance the prove himself worthy of not just the OPW Pureblood Championship opportunity that went to the winner, but also a chance to prove to his father that the ‘little dinosaur’ was ready to fight any and all comers, that he was ready to become Tiranosaurio Jr….