On a rainy Thursday evening, Carlos Oliva climbed to the top of a ladder inside The Dandy Lion — a diner and staple of Iowa City. Onlookers — inside and out — followed Oliva with their eyes as he climbed each rung, while they anticipated the guaranteed leap.
Earlier that week, Oliva had just finished waiting tables when he answered a call from The Daily Iowan.
“Yes, there really will be an underground, no rules, no ring wrestling tournament on Oct.24 at The Dandy Lion,” he said cheerily.
Oliva was born in Guatemala and moved to Iowa City as a kid. He spent much of his youth observing the worlds of the WWF, WWE, and New World Order wrestling.
It did not take long for Oliva to become attached to the sport.
As it was for many other young adults, wrestling was an outlet of virtue for Oliva. Week in and week out, characters of true good vs. true evil went head-to-head and performed feats of the highest theatrics and most strenuous athleticism.
Larger-than-life characters like Hulk Hogan, “Stone Cold” Steve Austin, and, for Oliva, John Cena acted as frameworks for behaviors and morals.
“I had no clue what this man was saying, but I felt the aura,” Oliva said of Cena. “I had to do everything in my power to be a professional wrestler when I grew up, and I did.”
Iowa has a deep connection to the worlds of both Greco-Roman wrestling and professional wrestling.
Dan Gable, Olympic gold medalist and recipient of the Presidential Medal of Freedom, was the head of the University of Iowa men’s wrestling team from 1976 to 1997.
Seth Rollins, 16-time WWE Champion and co-founder of the Black and Brave Wrestling Academy calls Davenport, Iowa, home — aspiring professionals from around the world trek to Davenport to study the craft.
“We became friends when we were 16,” Marek Brave, Rollins’ co-founder said. “We bonded through our love of wrestling.”
Beginning their training in the more traditional style, the pair quickly gravitated toward performances like they saw on TV.
Brave and Rollins started humbly, using a trampoline in a friend’s backyard to practice moves. After networking with the Quad Cities wrestling community, they were able to find a makeshift ring in a country barn.
“Senior year of high school, we started putting on shows in front of live audiences here in the Quad Cities,” Brave said. “I think we were charging $3 a ticket back then, not knowing where it would go from there.”
The duo’s gritty origin mirrors the opportunity they seek to provide for the students now. The Dandy Lion event was populated with hopeful professional wrestlers from the academy.
In August 2014, Rollins and Brave opened Black and Brave’s first location in Moline; they moved to the Quad Cities in 2017. Today, boasting more than 250 graduated students, the school is one of five in the country certified by the WWE.
“We focus on characters, storytelling, in-ring psychology, how to get people to feel how you want them to feel,” Brave said. Brave believes this major emphasis on theatrics separates Black and Brave from other schools.
Before taking to the ring in Iowa City, Oliva enrolled in the academy to pursue his dream of becoming a professional wrestler. During his training, he was introduced to Dante Leon of Dallas, Texas, and the two established a partnership.
Leon had been wrestling many years before Oliva’s introduction, including several tours of Japan. While there, Leon was exposed to “Bar Shows,” a vérité-esque approach to wrestling rooted in the reality of restaurants and bars.
Oliva, also an employee of The Dandy Lion diner located in the Iowa City Pedestrian Mall, bridged the gap between his two jobs and wanted to implement this newly learned approach to his wrestling practices.
Tommy Connolly, owner of The Dandy Lion, did not hesitant in allowing Carlos to use the venue.
“It sounded like something radically different,” Connolly said.
Bright orange flyers offered no information besides a place, a date, and a time: October 24, 8:00 p.m. at The Dandy Lion. Bulletins across the city were dotted with the image of a toothless skull and ominous QR code which linked only to a brief video that offered less information than the thin flyer.
The flyer’s promise of a night of wrestling was finally fulfilled and The Dandy Lion was prepared. The hollowed restaurant was emptied of booths, wall fixtures, and any low-hanging lights that could have obstructed the wrestler’s ability to perform. Regular Dandy Lion staff braced for the possibility of damage that awaited their restaurant.
Prior to fighting, all six athletes signed waivers for The Dandy Lion. Connolly declined to comment any further regarding the health and safety of the event.
Three hours before the first match, a group of Black and Brave wrestlers began sketching out their performances for the evening. Mimicking possible moves and stashing props such as bamboo torches, steel baking pans, and Samsung televisions, created a dialogue that would shape their performance.
Deonn “The Iceberg” Rusman hails from Wasilla, Alaska, and took on Hektor “The Cowboy” De Oro for the opening match.
Rusman dropped everything he knew in Alaska to become a trainer at the Black and Brave Academy with aspirations of going pro.
Rusman’s approach to training mixes performance and physicality. The onboarding process takes three months and is “the hardest three months of your life,” he said. In the end, once training is complete, a wrestler may have the chops for a “five-minute fight that feels like a 10-mile run.”
As the wrestlers entered their makeshift arena, an announcer attempted to quell the audience’s anticipation. But their cheers were too overwhelming, and the announcer’s words sank below the roar of the fans.
As the first fight began, the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd gravitated toward the walls as “The Cowboy” De Oro entered.
“I hate Iowa. I hate all of you,” he said.
Similar to how Shakespearean Rounds demanded audience participation, all onlookers played a part in the story. De Oro’s role was one of the Heel — the bad guy of the match. Getting in the face of audience members and directing a pointed finger in their faces depended on this connection.
Boos and cries filled the room.
Following soon after, “The Iceberg” Rusman strode out of the back room with utter confidence and glee. Rusman acted as the Face, the good guy.
Immediately “The Cowboy” took haste to slam “The Iceberg” with an elbow to the head.
Cheers for the combatants wailed as power shifted from one to the other.
In the audience, retired pro wrestler Heather Ace, of Mount Vernon, said she cheered on “The Iceberg” as he tried to escape “The Cowboy” lasso. During her 15 years in the industry, Ace had never seen anything like this, especially an event without a ring.
As the second event started, Pedestrian Mall attendees crowded around the fogged window to The Dandy Lion, trying to make sense of what they saw.
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Calvin “The Rizzler” Kelly of Tampa, Florida, walked out twirling a steel baseball bat.
His opponent, Tarlee Leckie of Melbourne, Australia, made her entrance on an aluminum push scooter. The storyline of the fight found Leckie the subject of “The Rizzler’s” antics.
Quickly disapproving of his attempts, Leckie tossed Kelly around the restaurant. Landing on the bar, dragging him outside the restaurant, and finally on top of an elderly patron’s lap, Kelly was distraught and defeated.
Leckie’s finishing move on Kelly began with a favorable truce that was quickly taken back. Kelly was pushed to a booth with exhaustion. Leckie reached for her aluminum push scooter.
Grasping the handles, Leckie rotated the scooter viciously and released the spin onto Kelly’s ankles.
This fight held no favors to Kelly and the audience’s approval of his punishments made that abundantly clear. At this time, full capacity hit the restaurant. An even greater crowd gathered outside.
The drone of passive music dwindled as the announcer barked information for the final fight.
The headlining bout would put the two idea originators head-to-head. Oliva took on his longtime friend Leon.
Oliva, face covered in paint similar to the skull depicted on the flyers he created for the event, commanded the room upon his entrance. It was clear, even as he acted as the Heel, that Oliva was the crowd favorite.
Leon soon followed with less attention and fanfare. Walking out and raising his Souris Wrestling championship belt, a league from southeast Saskatchewan, Canada, did nothing to win the support of the audience.
Beginning the fight with multiple slaps delivered to Oliva, the previously stashed props began playing their integral role in the performance. While attempting to antagonize one another from across a table, Leon reached for a fishing net to catch Oliva.
Now, trapped under the net, Leon placed wooden dowels upon Oliva’s forehead, dropping an elbow into the bundle as blood began to gush. Oliva was almost finished when in a twist of fate he caught Leon and placed him on the ground.
Reaching for the ladder, Oliva began his ascent. Each advancement, one foot over the other, caused uproar in the audience. Blood and sweat dripped from his brow and finally, in a fatigued state, Oliva reached the top.
Looking out to the audience, pointing at friends and family, waving his arms, Oliva felt that it was his match. The look was in his eyes. After weeks of planning, researching, and training, Oliva was set to win the top-of-the-ticket match for everyone he knew in the audience.
As Oliva took in the praise and admiration from the audience, Leon began rising from the ground. Gripping Oliva by the belt, Leon threw his enemy off the ladder, into the ground once so familiar to him, ending Oliva’s chance at winning.
“Classic good-versus-evil story is something that’s been connecting with audiences for thousands of years,” Brave said. “I think all forms of entertainment are storytelling packaged as whatever that form of entertainment is. Professional wrestling is just a different way to tell stories.”