The Wrestling
About the Book
This book has more mentions of the Boston Crab than anything else I've ever written.
The Wrestling began as an article for the Independent
on Sunday. I was trying to explain how, in the mid-1990s,
the American lunkheads of the World Wrestling Federation
had taken such a hold on the imaginations of young children.
Men who called themselves The Undertaker and Hunter Hearst
Helmsley had long since abandoned the pretence of real
fighting, and were involved in soap-opera storylines
involving the WWF owner and his daughter. I had been
to see these men perform in the United States, and it
made me yearn for the days of two falls, two submissions
or a knockout. When I returned to London I sought the
views of the old British grappler Mick McManus (catchphrase: ‘Not
the ears!’) We met for a spot of lunch at the Wig
and Pen, his club in Fleet Street. As I explained in
the book’s epilogue, Mick was a regular there,
and people were grateful to see him. He wore dark blazer
and slacks. He was a little flabby, but retained the
spring of a muzzled fighting dog. His speech was gruff
and unrelenting, and he kept it low so as not to worry
the other gents in the room. McManus said he tried to
pop in whenever he was in town (he lived in a flat in
Denmark Hill). He ordered the steak and kidney. The waiter
asked whether he wanted vegetables, but McManus said, ‘Nah!’ I
had a mushroom omelette, which I thought to be rather
pricey at £8. ‘That’s good value that!’ McManus
reasoned.
When I visited Mick at home he showed me some photos of him with various celebrities
- Tommy Cooper, Rod Hull & Emu, the Rolling Stones, Magnus Pyke, Raquel
Welch - and it was apparent that those stars were genuinely thrilled to meet
Mick. It became clear to me that the book should be about the process that
transformed the wrestlers from popular personalities to people who were suddenly
almost unemployable. Greg Dyke was to blame, for when he was head of ITV Sport
he decided that the wrestling was a little too downmarket for his advertiser’s
tastes, and so he pulled it from the schedules.
I had a terrific time writing it. I attended a wrestlers’ reunion, and
visited many wrestlers, old and new, in their homes. The good news was, many
of them still hated each other. Being both great athletes and actors, they
had many fine stories to tell. For a while I had visions for an exciting ending
for the book, one which would involve me climbing into the ring and going a
few bruising rounds with a pro. I worked out a bit at the local gym, where
I had some difficulty with the forward roll. I practised saying ‘Not
the ears!’ and ‘Ask him, Ref!’, but no one seemed overly
impressed. I asked Jackie Pallo what I would need to become a good fighter,
and he said, ‘a complete change of DNA’. So I chickened out, fearing
that I would have ended up in hospital, if not dead. The book closes instead
with a nice quote from the painter Peter Blake, who concluded that we have
lost something singularly British, but perhaps we shouldn’t regret its
passing. ‘It had its day, and it was wonderful.’
I think the book holds up well. At the beginning of 2005 I met a reader who
said that The Wrestling was the book he always turned to when he was feeling
down, and I was very touched. There are vague plans for a tenth anniversary
reissue, although it will need a new epilogue. Sadly, many of the stars of
the book have been counted out for the last time: Les Kellett, Big Daddy, Giant
Haystacks, Kent Walton, Brian Glover and Pat Roach are no longer with us, and
I am grateful I met them when I did. Apart from Les Kellett - but for that
saga you’ll have to read the book.
A year after publication it was turned into an hilarious one-man play by Alex
Lowe, who transformed himself into a great many characters, including Jimmy
Savile (‘My proud boast is that I lost my first 35 fights’), Brian
Glover (‘I’m a very posh actor - I can’t be doing with Masambula’)
and Max Crabtree, brother of Shirley Crabtree (‘He would have shown his
private parts on television if he thought it would have done him some good.’)
It played to appreciative houses in Edinburgh and London, and was described
on the Late Review by Pat Bomber Roach as ‘good’.
The extract here is taken from Chapter 12, and concerns
the curious and huge life of Giant Haystacks. In the
Journalism section you will also find an interview of
sorts with the mysterious Kendo Nagasaki.
The audio clip features Alex Lowe performing excerpts
from the play.
