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transform and transcend

28 December 2008 - 02:35

Ever since I was a kid, I've dreamed of becoming a wrestler. No, seriously. If there's any sport out there that really gets my blood churning, it's Lucha Libre. And I know some people don't consider it a sport, and less people than that consider it real, and for the most part, I agree. But I don't care. I love wrestling. I get more into a wrestling match than any other thing I've gotten into. It's as deep as my passion for music. But let me clarify: I'm not talking about American Pro-Wrestling. I'm talking Lucha Libre. Mexican wrestling. With the glittering masks and the bright outfits. To us Mexican kids growing up, luchadores are our superheros. Instead of Spider-Man or the Justice League comicbooks, we have movies about El Santo y Blue Demon, or Atlantis y Octag�n. I'm an avid fan of both El CMLL and AAA. I'm more than a bit wary when it comes to the credibility of the WWO/WWF, for example. That whole shit with the chairs and broken bottles remind me more of a bar brawl than anything else. But Mexican Lucha Libre is different. It's all about the different moves, or llaves, as we call them. Pinning the opponent down, straining certain muscles, daring leaps and pirouettes in the air... All good, clean, fighting. It saddens me to see the influence of American wrestling taking hold of the wrestling culture in Mexico. More and more, the fights become more like soap operas. However, there's still one thing that keeps me glued to the screen whenever I chance across a wrestling channel: the mask.

Good god, do I love the mascaras! It's that sense of no one knowing your true identity up in the ring that really excites me. With the mask on, you can do and say things you'd never do or say without the mask: it frees you to become a different person. More daring, more vociferous, more aggressive. And no one to hold you in check, because how could they? You go home, take off the mask and go back to your, erm, civillian life, for lack of a better term. It's modern-day superheros: real, live Batmen and Spider-Men, Green Lanterns and Flashes. Real Zorros, even. Just, true vigilantes, if they wanted to be, and no one would be the wiser if they were to encounter them on the street without their mask.

I dunno, maybe it's due to my multiplicity that the thought of another skin calls to me. Being able to just throw away your identity and have a new one, if at least for the few short moments you're in an arena... it would be a dream come true for me, well worth the risk and bruises and sprains.

Of course I'd have to actually train, and not just play-fight in my room when no-one's looking. *grin*

But anyway, one of my favorite luchadores of all time is Hayabusa, the Falcon-Phoenix. Even though he's Japanese, he fought and trained for a few years in Mexico, and was totally great. Well, he's retired now, due to an injury he got back in 2001 that left him confined to a wheelchair. But I love watching clips of the guy wrestling; his style was completely kick-ass. He reminds me (probably by design of his mask) to another luchador that to this day holds the number one spot as the greatest wrestler of all friggin' times: Octag�n. Octag�n might not be as flashy a fighter as Hayabusa, or perform as many aerial tricks, but when I was a kid, he was my hero. I wanted to be juuuust like the guy when I grew up. I guess I must've been inclined towards the ninja-dudes since way back then.

But back to my previous point, I am fascinated by the transformation that all masked wrestlers undergo when they get ready for a match. Unmasked wrestlers, I guess, can't really leave their personal lives behind. They can't shed their skin and transform into something completely different and dazzling. Connan is always Connan, just like la Fiera is always la Fiera, and Pedro "El Perro" Aguayo will always be "El Perro" Aguayo. There's no way they can hide that from the public; they can't take off their face. But Hayabusa... wow. Seeing his presence on the screen while he's in his complete attire is mesmerizing. I've seen him without his mask as well, since in Japan it's not as big a deal to take it off in public the way it is in Mexico, and believe me when I say he's not nearly as impressive without it. Then I found this clip on YouTube where he was getting ready for some match and I could see that transformation taking place. When he started, he was Eiji Ezaki, putting on stage make-up in front of a mirror. He was human; I could envision him getting hurt and crippled some day. But after a few minutes, and once the mask went on, even his look had changed. He had become Hayabusa, the Fire Falcon, the Phoenix that will never die, but only fall and regenerate and begin anew. You can see it in his eyes, in the way he sees himself in the mirror; he has ceased to be a mortal.

He has become a bird...

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