Dylan Brogan
“Ruthless” Rockin Rivera places “The Outlaw” Zach Hendrix in a headlock in the first match of Frozen Tundra Warfare on Nov. 23.
“Ruthless” Rockin Rivera has just been flipped and slammed to the mat by “The Outlaw” Zach Hendrix. But it’s the kids heckling from the second row who cause Rivera’s eyes to bulge with rage. You have entered Frozen Tundra Warfare, an indy professional wrestling event held monthly at the Ranch Grub & Pub on County Road P in Rubicon.
“Booo. Go home,” yells a boy, no older than 10, during the Nov. 23 match. “I’m not even going to say please because nobody likes you.”
Another kid, slightly older, also taunts Rivera: “Yeah, go home and drive safe.”
The first kid adds, “No, go home. But don’t buckle!”
Rivera’s bare chest is littered with tattoos, his hair flows below his muscular shoulders, and his beard is untamed. Fed up with the jeers, Rivera slips under the ropes and barrels towards the kids. He screams at the boy, just millimeters from his face: “Where are your parents?”
“You’re trash,” the boy barks back.
“You’re from the worst state. The WORST STATE,” says Rivera, before heading back to the ring. “No wonder you’re all orphans.”
The kids love every minute of it. So do the adults. The crowd of about 50 is enjoying a night billed as “family-friendly entertainment” in Rubicon, which is close to Hartford in Dodge County. This isn’t the competitive wrestling you see at the Olympics or in a high school gymnasium. It’s professional wrestling — made famous by World Wrestling Entertainment or WWE. Frozen Tundra Wrestling, a promotional company/league, is one of several regional organizations that hold wrestling bouts in the Midwest.
Dubbed “sports entertainment,” it’s a mix of raw athleticism, boisterous spectacle and coordinated anarchy best enjoyed with suspension of disbelief. The punches, throws, kicks and body slams don’t have to be real, they just need to look real.
The matches typically follow a good versus evil dyad. Wrestlers embody either heroes or villains — sometimes defined by unapologetically offensive stereotypes. For the main event tonight, Peter “Pornstache” Schwanz faces Vineesh “The Indian Nightmare!” for the 151 Heavyweight Championship belt.
Levi Yoder, who wears Amish garb, says he started wrestling about two years ago after receiving training from Hornswoggle, Wisconsin’s best-known wrestler. Hornswoggle — real name Dylan Mark Postl — is a little person who made his WWE debut in 2006 as the character Little Bastard, the leprechaun partner of Irish wrestler Finlay.
Yoder emphasizes the importance of being properly trained in order to avoid serious injury.
“I was at one event this year where I fell through a table while trying to climb up a ladder to grab a belt,” Yoder recalls. “That one hurt but I was wrestling the next week. We’re all friends. Just friends that like to beat the crap out of each other.”
The Queen Bee Brooke Valentine drove five hours from Iowa to fight in the Frozen Tundra Warfare event. The 22-year-old is more open than the older wrestlers Isthmus spoke to about the theatrics of the sport. Some were unwilling to break character or admit the fighting is exaggerated.
“I can fight with anyone. There’s a language to it if you are properly trained,” says Valentine. “If I see someone going for a move that I don’t know, I can block it.”
Valentine was introduced to wrestling a few years ago and trained at a school in Iowa. She loves the feeling of a crowd cheering her on. But she nods repeatedly when asked about the toxic machismo on display in Rubicon. Still, she says a lot has changed since she watched WWE SmackDown on television as a kid.
“Maybe at first I’m viewed as a weakling but then I pick them up and throw them around and they are like, ‘Oh. She’s pretty strong. She can definitely hang with us.’ Women are definitely taken more seriously as competitors than they used to be,” says Valentine. “People are also making money without having to sign with WWE. There are tons of different leagues around the country. Wrestling is really thriving right now.”
During her scramble match — which features several wrestlers — Valentine is on a team against a middle-aged wrestler named Judge Jesse and a posse of underlings. He wears a robe and a powdered wig but the pretend magistrate commands no respect from the crowd.
“Judyyy…Judyyyy…Judyyyy,” the kids chant, referring to the reality TV star as a way of needling Judge Jesse. The whole audience joins in. “Judyyy…Judyyyy…Judyyyy.”
“That’s not the name you’re supposed to call me,” he calmly responds. “It’s the honorable Judge Jesse.”
The same kid who screamed at “Ruthless” Rockin Rivera yells, “Okayyy, boomer.”
Wrestling leagues based in Wisconsin: Frozen Tundra Wrestling, Wisconsin Pro Wrestling, ACW, SSW Professional Wrestling, Brew City Wrestling.
Professional wrestlers who have died in the ring: Jeanette Wolfe (1951), Iron Mike Dibiase (1969), Luther Lindsay (1972), Owen Hart (1999), Perro Aguayo Jr. (2015)
WWE alumni: President Donald Trump, Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson, former Minnesota Gov. Jesse “The Body” Ventura, Chyna, André the Giant, Stacy Keibler, John Cena, “Stone Cold” Steve Austin, “Macho Man” Randy Savage, Ric Flair and Manami Toyota.
800 million: Homes reached by WWE television shows in 28 languages.
$930.2 million: Revenue generated in 2018 by WWE, a publicly traded company.
WWE vs. WWF: After a protracted legal dispute with the World Wildlife Fund, the World Wrestling Federation was renamed World Wrestling Entertainment in 2002.
