April 24, 2024

Independent Wrestling Endures Pandemic Woes

Promoters share their struggles and triumphs.

Independent wrestling is one of the few forms of live entertainment that has resumed during the COVID-19 pandemic.

In New Jersey, several companies have run shows while abiding by CDC guidelines and government-imposed restrictions. Synergy Pro Wrestling has held seven events, starting with its For The First Responders benefit show on July 11 followed by the second Garden State Invitational two weeks later. The company’s home base – the Polish Falcons Nest in Hillsborough, NJ – was limited to 25% capacity, so a maximum of 65 tickets could be sold for each event. Synergy’s August event was held outdoors and then in September, the company had to find a temporary home – Monster Factory in Paulsboro, NJ – because the Polish Falcons Nest closed its doors due to safety precautions.

Synergy owner Colin West is proud to report that nobody has contracted the coronavirus from one of his shows. “That’s our first benchmark of success,” West says. “From the beginning, I said that as soon as one person tested positive because of being at one of our shows, we were done until further notice.” In addition to wrestlers being tested before performing, there was a mandatory mask policy, plenty of hand sanitizer available, seating was spaced out and the ring was disinfected between matches.

However, Synergy failed to turn a profit from these events. “We got so close to breaking even,” West says. “I projected a far bigger loss than I ended up taking. That’s in large part due to sponsors and people stepping up to back the product. A lot of us, myself included, emotionally needed to run these shows.”

Despite the less than ideal conditions, the company still presented some of the most high-profile cards on the indie scene, bringing in well-known names like Warhorse, Tony Deppen, Fallah Bahh, Anthony Greene and Gregory Iron. With events streamed live either on FITE TV or IWTV, fans from around the world followed TJ Crawford’s reign of terror and Jordan Oliver’s rise to the Synergy Championship. The breakout star of 2020, Oliver was responsible for some 5-star bouts, such as his first clash with Ace Austin and his encounter with Myron Reed – declared the match of the year.

“If somebody mentions us in the same breath as GCW or Limitless or Beyond or somewhere like that, I’m the new kid in that conversation so I better keep scrapping,” West says. “There’s a lot of expectation there. We didn’t work from July to January for somebody to take our spot in the two months we’ve taken off.”

After Synergy’s last event on Jan. 2, the company has gone on hiatus while the vaccine rolls out. Depending on its effectiveness and availability, West is targeting a return in either late March or mid-to-late April. “I don’t have blind faith in anything, but I don’t think there are companies out there trying to kill or harm a lot of people with a vaccine and lose a lot of money in lawsuits,” he says. “When it’s my turn to get vaccinated, I’ll be in line.”

In the meantime, the company has launched an Indiegogo campaign to fund closed-set tapings that will be streamed during the winter.

Maintaining Tradition

Roughly 70 miles north of the Monster Factory, ECWA has run three events during the pandemic at The Jersey Dugout in Morganville, NJ.

Considered the longest-running independent wrestling promotion in the United States, ECWA returned from lockdown in September with the 24th annual Super 8, the most prestigious pro wrestling tournament on the East Coast. Originally scheduled for the Asbury United Methodist Church in New Castle, DE – ECWA’s home for the past few years – the tournament moved to the Garden State because the church wasn’t holding any events during the pandemic.

About 85 masked fans showed up to have their temperature taken at the door before being escorted to chairs spaced six feet apart. “Obviously, business wasn’t as good because you can’t pack the place like you want to,” says ECWA executive Ryan Kavanaugh. “There was an extra 125-175 people who claimed they wanted to buy tickets to the Super 8, but we couldn’t fit any more people.”


In November, about the same amount of people attended PretzelMania IV, the biggest show of the year for WORLD-1 Wrestling, which was acquired by ECWA in June. One month later, ECWA’s Christmas Spectacular was a sellout with its restricted capacity of 75, but only 60 or so folks showed up as COVID-19 cases spiked again. ECWA has also been lucky that nobody has contracted the virus from one of its events.

However, Mike Law, Eric Martin and Chris Rockwell (and even matchmaker Joe Zanolle) pulled themselves from events for coming in contact with people who tested positive for COVID-19. “We’re fortunate we have a lot of good guys who care about not just themselves, but everybody else,” Kavanaugh says.

Like Synergy, ECWA has taken a break until April. It’s not because of the vaccine rollout, though. The Jersey Dugout’s busy season is January through March, so the facility isn’t available to rent out until spring. In mid-January, the ECWA roster was supposed to tape online content at the Monster Factory, but after cases spiked in December, the plan was scrapped. “I don’t know that the tapings would really mean that much to everybody and if the extra booking would really help that much,” Kavanaugh says.

ECWA has dove headfirst into the digital age during the pandemic. For the first time since 2011, fans at home could watch the Super 8 as it was streamed live on IWTV. Past tournaments and other archived footage have also been digitally transferred. Shaking the dust off its social media accounts, ECWA had its first viral clip in December after Law did a suicide dive through a steel chair in the front row.

“Indies like GCW and Beyond cater to the internet audience while our audience is families and kids,” Kavanaugh says. “They just want to see good, entertaining wrestling and have a fun night out. The adjustment we’re trying to make is drawing the internet fans into what we’re doing.”

“Pot to piss in”

H20 Wrestling won’t be taking any breaks.


The hardcore-based promotion doesn’t have to worry about finding venues – it has its own building (H20 Wrestling Center) in the Monroe Business Center in Williamstown, NJ. In May, classes resumed at the H20 Wrestling Academy and biweekly “Undiscovered” student shows started back up in June. Main roster monthly shows also picked back up in June. As a matter of fact, the building has hosted more events during the pandemic than it did in 2019. Between an increase in views on IWTV and an influx of social media followers, H20 has grown more in the last six to eight months than it has in the past four years, says founder Matt Tremont.

“It’s been a blessing in disguise for us,” Tremont says. “People still want to watch wrestling and there haven’t been as many options. People that were either sleeping on H20 or just couldn’t give us a chance because there was already so much wrestling now have the time to watch us.”

And so far, nobody has caught the coronavirus.

“It was nice to get somewhat back to normal, even though it was a new normal with all the restrictions,” Tremont says. There’s been reduced capacity at events – some maxed out at 50 people – temperatures taken at the door, mandatory masks, etc. There was only one incident, Tremont says, where an older gentleman didn’t want to wear a mask, so he was refunded and asked to leave.

In addition to the health protocols, H20 has also scaled back on the ultraviolence. “We’ve focused on basic, one-on-one pro wrestling,” Tremont says. “Telling real stories has gotten more over than the crazy violence we were doing. The product we have now is the product of what’s going on in the world.”

There’s been one exception to the safer style: The Last Extravaganza. Over Halloween weekend, H20 held its version of WrestleMania with a gimmick-filled tournament honoring the late Danny Havoc and Tremont’s retirement match. The Bulldozer went out in a blaze of barbed wire glory, being tossed off a scaffold and crashing through glass panes and light tubes. Financially, critically and artistically, the weekend was a monumental success.


Similar to the first WrestleMania, it had to be. Tremont hasn’t had a 9-to-5 job since 2014, so pro wrestling is his livelihood. With no live events from mid-March to mid-June, his main source of revenue was nonexistent. Thankfully, his 30 some-odd students volunteered to pay their monthly tuition ($100 per month) even though classes were suspended during the lockdown. That provided a lifeline until limited crowds could come back, and since then, revenue from IWTV streaming has saved the company from financial ruin.

“I didn’t have a pot to piss in going into that Extravaganza weekend,” Tremont says. “We were behind on rent and other bills because the money wasn’t coming in, even with students still paying tuition. I put everything I had into the merchandising for T-shirts and posters, things we haven’t done before. That whole weekend was a gamble. If we shit the bed, I probably wouldn’t be talking to you. I’d be so in the hole.”

False Start

Of course, not all indies have resumed operations.

The pandemic has derailed the momentum of Dallas-based Lucha Brutal, which launched in 2019 and held five events before the COVID-19 outbreak. Owner Rogelio Martinez has refused to run any shows since January 2020 due to safety concerns. Sure, he’s reconsidered a few times, but he’s yet to pull the trigger.

For starters, Southern Junction, which hosted the company’s past two events, has temporarily shut its doors. Finding another venue, even not during a pandemic, is difficult for wrestling promoters. Then, when a couple other companies asked Lucha Brutal to join a streaming series called Texas Grand Prix, which would have been more financially feasible, COVID-19 cases started spiking again.

“I just didn’t think it was worth it,” says Martinez, who is high risk due to previous health issues. “We want to put on a show with the standards we’re used to while compensating the talent at a level we believe they deserve to be paid considering the risk they’re taking during this time. There was a way we could’ve done a show safely, but when you look at the numbers, it just doesn’t make sense.”



In order to stay engaged with the loyal following the company had just built, Martinez and his friend launched a podcast called The Time Limit Draw. From April through October, the podcast ran for 26 episodes and often featured Lucha Brutal wrestlers as guests. But, aside from the podcast and random social media posts, including policy changes as a result of the #SpeakingOut movement, the company has gone dark.

“A few months in, I realized the fight to stay relevant would be a losing battle without the ability to produce wrestling content,” Martinez says.

That doesn’t mean he’s stopped thinking about Lucha Brutal. Whether it’s brainstorming storylines, scouting talent or finding a new permanent home (or homes), Martinez is committed to coming back stronger than before. “If the general public has been able to receive the vaccine by May, I’m okay holding off until then to return,” Martinez says. “I just want to be able to provide a consistent product.”

Morals and Ethics

And then there’s Erik Viking, owner of Philadelphia-based Pro Wrestling Explosion.

He hasn’t promoted a show since October 2019. Not only does he have no plans to run anytime soon, he doesn’t understand why others have.

“When I started to see independent wrestling shows popping up, I got mad,” Viking says. “It’s wrong to run a wrestling show in a global pandemic. I haven’t because I would feel horrible if somebody got sick solely because of my wrestling show.”


Since 2016, PWE has held a few shows each year, blending science fiction with the Memphis territory. “A variety show for all ages,” you can see an alien, robot and yodeler all compete in the same evening. Hyper-focused on the aesthetic, Viking prefers running in small, intimate venues, such as the PhilaMOCA or Ruba Club. “I want people screaming and smashed together like you’re in the front row at a concert,” Viking says. “I need the audience to socially undistance.”

Obviously, that’s not possible in the current environment. Although outdoor shows would be safer, he has no interest in compromising his vision. Even if he did, Viking doesn’t trust that the COVID-19 testing right now is good enough to guarantee that a wrestler or fan won’t get sick due to the gathering. He also believes that WWE, NXT and AEW are filling the wrestling void with their advanced production capabilities and high-quality talent.

“It’s risk versus reward, and the risk is way higher for indie shows,” Viking says. “If you have a limited capacity and they have to be socially distant, you’re going to have less people come to your show, which is less money for you. You’re also going to sell less merchandise because it’s not the same vibe. So, you’re not making as much money, the production is less than favorable and then your talent could still get sick.”

If PWE was his full-time job as some indie promotions are for other promoters, Viking says he would stop running shows due to moral reasons and then ask the government for help like concert promoters have. “If the government said no,” Viking says, “I would probably go get another job.”

Despite his strong stance, Viking admits that he misses running shows. His creativity has waned, and he hasn’t scouted talent in quite some time. Without a timetable for his next event, the motivation simply isn’t there.

“I will run a PWE show when society is ready to not wear masks in public,” Viking says. “That will probably be when the media tells us it’s okay. And the media will tell us it’s okay when doctors directly say it’s okay.”

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