Home of the Corvus.
Sanctuary for Beau Bosko's Last Stand.
A wayfarer's rest stop in the electric wilds.
Nothing lasts but nothing.
Nothing lasts for long.
Show and Hawk. Wrestlers.
Luminaries of the Extreme Midget Wrestling Federation.
Little Show and Mike Hawk in his Detroit Tigers ball cap strike a pose after their wrestling match at the ballyard on a warm and muggy Saturday evening. Courteous, soft-spoken, and accommodating, the barnstorming showmen paused next to the right field foul line for photos with fans. They perform under the banner of the Extreme Midget Wrestling Federation.
Photo by Beau Bosko | Saturday, July 26, 2014, at Arvest Ballpark in Springdale, Arkansas
Spectacle
At the Ballyard, the Wrestlers Put on a Show.
By Ebenezer Baldwin Bowles
Posted on Thursday, July 31, 2014, from rural Washington County, Arkansas
My seat next to the home team's dugout was ideal for baseball but not so good for the wrestling match. From my portal in Seat 4 Row C Section 105 of Arvest Ballpark, the grappling ring was too far away and the viewing angle too severe to catch the expressions of the wrestlers or study the nuanced pace and shading of the show. It didn't matter. Just being there, my son at my side and children scurrying everywhere, was sufficient balm for the angst and psychic tremors of the day.
The wrestlers pitched their ring next to the protective screen behind homeplate. Much of the action spilled out of the ring and onto the grass field. It was a casual, cozy scene with several baseball players reclining on the grass close by. Every now and then one of the wrestlers would hoist his opponent high into the muggy air, hold him there for a second or two, and then slam the unfortunate foe to the turf.
I like pro wrestling. I'd like to tell you why, but I'm finding it more and more challenging to string these words together into meaningful fragments. Nonetheless, I'll try to make sense of it all. Or some of it.
The most important part of having fun at a professional wrestling match is to enjoy the show. Cheer and boo, laugh and holler. Pick a favorite from the cast of exaggerated ring personalities and then root for your hero to defeat his archenemy and either retain or win back the champion's belt. I suppose you could root for the dark side if you're so inclined, but why pick evil when the good is standing right there in front of you?
The Home Boy Wins.
The hook for Saturday's match was nationalism, pitting the mouthy Canadian Nasty Boy against the All-American hero King Midget. Nasty Boy, microphone in hand, taunted the crowd with insults and boasts, first impugning the fitness of the American people — "too much cellulite in these stands" — and then championing the superiority of Canadian manhood. After much head bashing with metal folding chairs, truncheons, and fists, Nasty Boy succumbed to King Midget's dogged counter-attacks and gave up the champion's belt to his American rival. At the end, Nasty Boy turned good, saluting all the military veterans in attendance and ending his performance with the chant, U S A ! U S A ! U S A !
My memories of professional wrestling run deep into my childhood, but I'm not going there just now — other than to admit that I remember with fondness the colorful wrestlers, the audacious matches, and the rowdy arenas. The old wrestler who babysat me while my mother went out with his young pals always treated me nice. The sport, its melodrama and its champions, provided great escape for a child trapped in perilous times.
Symmetry
A Cardinal from Springfield streaks to first base. An infielder from the Northwest Arkansas Naturals races past the loose baseball. Cuthbert the first baseman raises his hands to signal, Don't throw the ball. Like soccer, it's a beautiful game is baseball — elegant, intricate, soothing.
Photo by Beau Bosko | Saturday, July 26, 2014, at Arvest Ballpark in Springdale, Arkansas
'Cash Money'
My friend Lawrence writes from the big city down south where the Arkansas River runs:
Eb, my dog is named "Cash Money," or cash for short. He is a 10-year-old black Labrador. He likes to remind me that he is not the sharpest tool in the shed when it comes to smarts, but he is sweet. I have never seen a dog that loves children more than he does.
We go for an hour-long walk every morning, picking up trash. I have a two-mile stretch that is clean but grown up in some places. Cash has four swim holes he climbs into. One of them at the bottom of the hill is deep with water over my head. The neighbor kids sometimes fish there. Cash just walks right to them.
Cash gets a shampoo bath back home once a week. I keep two old rough towels to rub him down with. He is an outside dog, but we have a carrier inside for him when it gets too cold or too hot or when there is a thunderstorm.
He has a good life.
Cheers bro,
Lawrence
Field of Dreams
It is a field of dreams for youngsters who have the opportunity to set foot in uniform on the baseball diamond of the professionals. By allowing young players to run onto the field under the bright lights and in front of the crowd, where they can pose for photos and mingle with the stars, minor league ball clubs pay homage to a traditional American dream, a dream me and some of my buddies clung to with a passion so long ago, the dream of going pro and making it to the big leagues.
Photo by Beau Bosko | Saturday, July 26, 2014, at Arvest Ballpark in Springdale, Arkansas
Nasty Boy
We didn't get a chance to visit. He was in a hurry to get off the field. He goes by the name of Nasty Boy. A couple of admirers were asking for autographs, so he had to move on. The public address announcer said the wrestlers would be in the stands during the ballgame to chat and sign autographs, but I never saw them again.
Photo by Beau Bosko | Saturday, July 26, 2014, at Arvest Ballpark in Springdale, Arkansas
Mr. Show, Mr. Hawk and Altered Proximity.
It's the same image that opened today's post, but this time I altered the proximity to show more of the physiques of professional wrestlers Little Show and Mike Hawk. Frankly, their identity as midgets didn't mean as much to me as their ability to wrestle and put on a good show. People are just people as far as I'm concerned. I'm looking for something other than shape and form when I meet someone — demeanor and stance, eyes and voice, reliable portals into character and personality. And yes, the term midget is loaded with peril in these fragile times of quick offense. I'm told there are other, more appropriate names. Maybe so, but I'm not going to argue with the two clenched fists backing up the words that Mr. Hawk wears with obvious pride on his shirt: Extreme Midget Wrestling Federation. For sure these gents put on a good show!
Photo by Beau Bosko | Saturday, July 26, 2014, at Arvest Ballpark in Springdale, Arkansas
"The Baddest Little Show on Earth"
Skyler Ward, who promotes the Extreme Midget Wrestling Federation for Center Stage Entertainment in Dallas, Texas, sent a link to the Federation's website. We are glad to share it. The crow will take you there.
Write if you find the time.
ebenezer@crowscottage.com
