Una noche en Tempe: Cain Velasquez, lucha libre in the desert and the forgotten feeling of normalcy

Things seemed normal for Cain Velasquez when he returned to his old Arizona State University stomping grounds.

Even if only true for one night, that’s a whopper of a sentence considering where Velasquez was four weeks prior as Day 252 turned into Day 253 behind bars – with no guaranteed end in sight.

Fast forward to Dec. 3 across state lines in the desert. Tempe, Ariz., was the scene of Velasquez’s return to pro wrestling and Lucha Libre AAA Worldwide. It all happened so quickly and unexpectedly.

The event was announced without his participation initially, but his late addition after a $1 million bail allowance and subsequent court-ruled work release locked him in as a late addition, and it’s a safe bet the promotion saw a surge in ticket sales.

The evening was rainy, unusual for the desert. But the rain didn’t keep the crowds away. When I arrived at Mullett Arena significantly before the doors were scheduled to open to the general public, there already was a crowd of a few hundred people. Many were huddled under the arena overhang wearing ponchos. Others embraced the rain and accepted they were going to be soaked.

When the doors finally opened, the sounds of beeping and booping ticket approvals were drowned out by the booming Mexican music that bellowed from inside the arena. I walked through the yellow and maroon color theme, trying to find my way.

An emcee from a Spanish-speaking radio station hosted a beanbag toss contest for prizes. Handcrafted Mexican jewelry was for sale at one stand next to a giant rack of lucha libre masks.

Velasquez’s picture was front and center on the autographed posters. He was pictured as a suit-cladded big man in the midst of masked luchadors.

While there wasn’t additional Velasquez merchandise available for purchase, he was well represented. Among the Free Cain T-shirts was Danny Krpata, who bought tickets to the show with friends Angel Salas and Jonathan Mejia, primarily to see Velasquez.

Even though the focus was on fun, the larger battle continued to be in the back of many people’s minds, including Krpata’s.

“I think the criminal justice system is sincerely broken. What they’re doing to Cain right now is pretty sad to see,” said Krpata. “… This is a good start, but he needs to be free completely. He got time off to come here and do this event, but it’s still not enough.”

The lights flashed around 7 p.m. and fans scattered from the lone open food station, much to the relief of overwhelmed concession stand workers who scrambled to run pizzas through the conveyor oven.

Although I took four years of high school Spanish, I only speak and understand it minimally. That didn’t matter. I didn’t need to know the language to hear the passion the fans in attendance had for their heroes – and the villains.

All of the evening’s contests were tag-team matches. The festivities kicked off with a large wrestler named Willie Mack, who thrilled fans with his flips, athleticism and two impromptu twerk-filled dance parties that bookended the match itself.

After the six competitors involved exited the ring and headed down the ramp and into the back, the fans got an unexpected first look at the man many were there to see. Velasquez lingered backstage as the previous match finished up, releasing nervous energy as he moved.

Vicente Fernandez’s “Los Mandados” blared throughout the arena, the longtime signature entrance song of the first Mexican-American champion in UFC history. Out walked Velasquez to a standing ovation. He gave high-fives on his way down the ramp, then walked up the metal stairs and into the ring.

The music died down as he spoke to the crowd, thanking fans for their support. Not once did he mention his situation specifically. He didn’t need to. The words weren’t as important as the sentiments. Everyone in the building knew what he went through. Support was thick in the air.

“Thank you. To be here in front of you guys, right now – it’s a dream come true,” Velasquez said when he addressed the crowd prior to his match. “I truly appreciate all that you guys have always done supporting me (and) my family. Thank you guys forever. Forever. My heart is happy to be here with you guys. I will always continue to fight, forever. Keep going up. Forever. Thank you guys.”

As Velasquez spoke, he turned around and put one hand up. He extended his pointer finger, ring finger, and thumb – sign language for “I love you.” It’s the same sign Velasquez signaled in April, as he made one of his first court appearances following his arrest.

At that time, he was shackled, masked and in an XXL jumpsuit. It was directed toward his family. This time, he did it without chains, not just for those in the arena, but the extended family of tens of thousands of supporters who emerged during his eight-plus months incarcerated.

Velasquez received his flowers by cheers and claps. Moments later, the pro wrestling theatrics began as he was attacked by the evil faction of U.S.-flag waving Sam Adonis, Gringo Loco and Black Taurus, a character dressed as a bull. Velasquez then was saved by his tag-team partners Pagano and Blue Demon Jr., setting up a six-man tag-team match later in the evening.

The match

A few matches later, it was time. First came the heels – the bad guys. One by one, entrance musics sounded. Adonis was the ultimate villain, as his rotating entrance comprised of Mexico being scored on in the World Cup, overlayed by troll emojis and B-roll of his face chuckling.

Velasquez was the final of the six to enter after a dramatic anticipation build. Unlike his earlier entrance, Velasquez sported a black and gold mask that transformed him into “El Toro.” He walked down the entrance ramp and around the right side of the ring.

The most powerful greeting occurred when Velasquez reached the right corner away from the entrance ramp, where he embraced his friends and family, including his son, Cain Jr., the human axis of Velasquez’s motivation.

Velasquez made more more stop before entered the ring, and that was to kiss the hand of Marisela Peña, the Lucha Libre AAA Worldwide promoter who gave him a chance to be normal – even for the night.

For 25 minutes, the wrestlers ran, flipped, jumped and slammed.

Maybe heavier in weight than in his past lucha libre matches, Velasquez looked lighter than ever on his feet. There were no obvious signs of rust or other wrestlers going easy on him. The only physical pseudo-crutch was the big, black brace on his left knee, a reminder of the skeletons of an MMA career’s past.

The finishing sequence

As the match rolled on, the sequences became increasingly “Cain-centric.” Velasquez aligned with the heel pack leader, Adonis, who promptly called Velasquez “a stupid b*tch,” which generated some oohs and aahs from those in attendance.

Velasquez’s wrestling move-set included many MMA nods, as exemplified by his double-leg takedown and ground-and-pound when Adonis whiffed on a clothesline attempt.

In a classic pro wrestling sequence, Adonis’ tag-team partners interfered and grabbed Velasquez’s leg. Distracted, Velasquez looked away as Adonis retrieved his American flag, brought it in the ring and nailed Velasquez in the stomach. The red, white and blue pelted Velasquez in the back again when he was on the ground.

Things looked grim for Velasquez, but ultimately he rallied. Velasquez turned the tables and tried to lock in a kimura, a signature of his in the pro wrestling ring, but Adonis landed a low blow – an elbow “deep” punch to the groin. Again, Velasquez rose from the “brink” of defeat.

A reversal ended in a power bomb from the top rope and then …

“Uno … dos … tres!”

The crowd went crazy – as did Velasquez’s family and friends, including the little boy wearing white, Velasquez’s biggest fan.

Victories

When Pagano and Blue Demon Jr. raised Velasquez’s arms in victorious celebration, the sense of victory was far deeper than a pinfall, more than a three-count. The man who was incarcerated for 253 days wasn’t just out, he was winning – winning at life just being there.

And as he got to the turnbuckle to the right-opposite of the entrance ramp, Velasquez once again locked eyes with his most important people. He pointed and waved. As the spotlight shined on Velasquez, his focus was once again on the boy in white.

It’s tradition in lucha libre for a luchador not to reveal his true face, to not take off his mask. But the moment trumped the age-old unwritten rule. This was real. This was raw. Velasquez took to the microphone again and thanked the crowd – repeating himself a bit, though the emphasis understandable.

It took a while for him to get to the back. Velasquez made it a point to take every picture he could and sign autographs along the entrance ramp – so thoroughly that he was still making his way out as the main event match’s participants began their entrances.

His supporters were, in fact, one of the main reasons Velasquez was bailed out. Judge Arthur Bolcanegra’s November bail ruling centered around how loved Velasquez was by his community.

Velasquez finished his walk up the ramp and disappeared in the shadows of the backstage. The main event began behind him moments later. His hour in the spotlight was over.

Behind the curtains

I traveled from Boston to see Velasquez compete. I knew the chance I could talk to him was slim, but the promotion indicated not to rule it out. Ultimately, my gut feeling was confirmed. According to AAA, his team politely declined my interview request – and I totally get it.

I was, however, granted brief backstage access to talk to the other wrestlers – so I took AAA up on that offer because if I couldn’t hear directly from Velasquez how he was doing that night, maybe some outsiders who worked with him that week could paint an authentic picture of the man behind the scenes.

Blue Demon Jr. was one of Velasquez’s training partners. The 56-year-old son of a Mexican wrestling legend has never revealed his face, nor his real name. That maintained as I saw him limp out of the locker room, wheeled suitcase in hand, mask still on.

He talked about the match and how he felt, but his demeanor changed as he spoke about Velasquez, visibly so despite the blue mask that covered his face.

“I’m very happy for him and very happy for his people,” Demon Jr. said, in a thick accent. “… I think Cain is a very special guy. He is a champ. He is an icon for the Mexican people. For people, it was very important that he came back.”

Next to emerge was Adonis, a muscular guy with long blond hair. The angry flag-waving troll of a villain in the ring was the complete opposite outside of it. With a smile ear-to-ear, Adonis told me how special it was to be the foil for Velasquez. He was passionate and each answer was filled with appreciation. The bad guy from the ring might have been the guy you’d most want to grab a coffee or a beer with outside of it.

“Anybody that was here saw the ambience and realized it was a moment in time,” Adonis said. “People are going to remember that match more than a lot of matches they’re going to see. … (Velasquez) has always been so kind to me, even before tonight. Just being around him and being able to share that moment in time with him in the ring, in a weird way it’s an intimate experience. There aren’t many people you can go out in front of 5,000 people and fight with. You don’t come back from that.

“After the match, we came out and hugs we gave. He’s a sweet man. His son was in the locker room. He’s just a dad. He’s just a good dude like everybody else is. It was cool tonight and it’s something I’m going to remember forever.”

As I wrapped with Adonis, a large group formed in the hallway behind me, including Velasquez. It was a family affair, as it’s always been. There were friends, family, Velasquez’s agent and a hovering gentleman who appeared to be the court-mandated chaperone, though I can’t confirm for sure.

From the perspective of a total outsider, however, the legal issues seemed like a forgotten period in time – an afterthought, a different life. There were embraces, congratulations, small talk with other AAA staff members and even a family discussion about the best exit to leave out of to get back to the hotel and avoid the rainfall.

The night was special. As Adonis put it, it’s a night no one involved will forget. Even though the larger battles lurked around the corner, they were out of sight and out of mind.

As I walked down the loading dock, through the rain and into my Uber, I continued to reflect on the night. I couldn’t stop thinking about the finish.

I’m not sure if it was intentional, or if I’m just drawing symbolic comparisons out of a totally coincidental finish, but there was something poetic about the final back-and-forth. Velasquez was hit by the American flag, rallied, persevered and overcame the odds – all for his family.

The real-life ending hasn’t played out yet, but for Velasquez, it’s step by step, day by day, match by match. And right now, he’s on a winning streak.