Three Count: Fighting for the Pro Wrestling Dream- Part II: Working for a Chance

Rodz had encountered hundreds of aspiring wrestlers like Santiago over the years, many of whom never bothered to return after getting turned away. But Santiago left determined to prove to Rodz – and his family – that he wanted this life.

He would have jumped in front of a train if it meant a chance to get in the ring. But Rodz knew that a reckless lust for the sport wasn’t enough. Santiago needed heart. Rodz told him his grades would have to improve. That’s the only way he’d ever dance in Rodz’s ring. He told Santiago to come back in a year. Then they’d talk.

Santiago was crushed. Watching the sport on TV made him think about the day Rodz sent him home. But he believed. He focused in school and joined the Franklin Delano Roosevelt High School junior varsity wrestling team. He wasn’t happy about it. The thought of wearing a pair of huge protective earmuffs and a jockstrap and spending most of his time squirming on the floor wasn’t wrestling to him.

Santiago worked after school at a nearby Taco Bell, where for $5.25 an hour, he did everything from cleaning up to working the register to making the food, which he ate a lot of. As he packed on the pounds, he saved every ounce of cash he could. He slowly squirreled away his wrestling school tuition of $2,000, without any financial help from his family.

“My father didn’t think I could do this,” Santiago said. “He didn’t think I was tough enough. That’s why I paid for it myself. He’s supportive now, but I had to do that to prove it to him and everyone else that this was what I wanted to do.”

The constant smell of beef did more than put money in his pocket. The Taco Bell grub helped him put on the added weight he needed to fill out his then-thin frame. His baggy clothes didn’t show it, but in a year, he put on 10 pounds of muscle. With his new body, he learned some basics from his high school wrestling coach. He wasn’t quite ready for the main event at Madison Square Garden, but the experience humbled and hardened him.

“I learned a lot there. You have to know how to protect and position your body properly,” Santiago said. “It’s all about discipline and knowing what is coming next and letting it come to you.”

On March 8, 2004, he strode into Gleason’s Gym, with better grades and a stronger mind and body. Rodz saw a wild young lion ready to be tamed. But that first day, Santiago wasn’t roaring. Far from it. He was bored. He wasn’t allowed to show off any of the moves he did in his backyard. No neckbreakers. No suplexes. Not even a snapmare. Instead, he was told to climb through the ropes and “get the feel of the ring.” That’s not what he wanted. He wanted to fly.

After walking around the ring for a few minutes, he was asked to roll repeatedly. He felt like a sweaty crash test dummy, taking slam after slam from a wrestler who called himself “Starlight.”

“It was weird,” Santiago said. “That’s what he told me to call him, so I did.”

Then he ran the ropes until he had welts across his laterals, and felt as if he were about to vomit in exhaustion. There were no bright lights or busty women cheering for him ringside. Just the smell of his own sweat and the taste of it creeping down his forehead onto his upper lip. He thought about quitting.

“I just said to myself, ‘Can I take a beating like this?’” he recalled. “You hit the mat and it’s not that bad at first, but it takes the air out of you. I just hurt all over and I knew this was just the beginning.”

When his father picked him up at Gleason’s that night, Santiago was unusually quiet. His father thought his usually chatty son was tired. He was, but he was also petrified that he wasted his – and his parents’ and Rodz’ – time. He didn’t know what to say. All he could do was lean his head against the passenger seat and look out the window, with his drenched hair fogging the glass up as they drove along the BQE.

“I worked so hard to get to that point,” he said. “I thought I could do this right away, but after a few bumps, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to do this anymore. I thought I made a big mistake.”

Click here to read Part I.