Mountain Biking or Body Slamming?

Friday night. According to my doctor, and my once six-pack abs now swollen into a keg, maybe my last Friday night. Before I become a mom. Due any moment now. Unfortunately, bagging some moonlit mountain bike miles on Mt. Tam is not a time killing option either.

So what to do with my last Friday night? The car is already packed with baby stuff. New IKEA furniture instructions fulfilled. My bike is sparkling clean, all tuned up, and banned from singletrack for a while. So, what’s a girl to do?

Why… drive to San Jose for a World Wide Wrestling match of course!!!

I’ve never been to one, and this was one sideshow experience I’ve wanted to check off my list before becoming a parent. And my ob-gyn agreed that going on a quest like this could actually induce labor.



Leap From the Ropes



Even though Mark had wasted much of his extenuated youth at the Boston Garden in dumb struck awe while Andre The Giant tossed around a half dozen midgets, he couldn’t really explain to me the subtleties of the sport. We splurged on floor seats, four rows from the mat.

Maybe because I passed on the seven dollar draft beers, but I couldn’t understand why the referee was so easily distracted by the bad guy’s manager while the bad guy wearing big underpants adroitly palmed a ‘foreign object’ repeatedly against the good guy’s forehead.



Tag Team



I did splurge on the six dollar salted pretzel, and it was beyond a little stale. Why didn’t the concessionaires just shoot ‘em full of the same juice the combatants in the square circle use? Are baked goods subject to UCI anti-doping protocols?

But in many other ways pro wrestling did have some appeal for me. I felt as much at home among the mullets on the floor section as I would have in the pits at a Hare Scramble.

All the guys, athletes and attendees alike, shaved…even the spots where there was no discernible athletic advantage, except for their chins. All of their chins.

And, it was comforting to see by the quality of the skin suits that pro wrestling evidently pays nearly the same scale that pro cycling does…



3 Chicks Rassle


Like in downhill racing, the women’s wrestling ranks thinned out rapidly. Although I should note that their outfits are much more flattering. For a few body slams, I even imagined myself out there …as Marla, the Mauler!!!

Nah. As we filed out of the HP Pavilion past these strange freaks and geeks, I realized I’d much rather keep the rubber side down among the freaks and geeks I already know and love as one of the Luna Chix.

By the way, it turns out that going to a pro wrestling match, followed by 2 hours of ‘easy’ riding the next day, does actually induce labor. Mark and I have a little baby girl now to prove it!