I was about ten when I went the first time— did not expect live chickens to be shitting inside the ring. The tiny audience in steel folding chairs screamed the worst obscenities they could imagine at a pair of ancient heavyweights. My uncle, the legendary labor leader, wiped the foam from his mustache and told me I was old enough to join in and say something, then turned back to shouting his balls off at this guy in a green mask and black wig— El Shocker. Evidently the heel, ‘cause dude was getting no love. I thought about that for a minute, then I yelled, “Se te ven las pompis! We can see your butt cheeks! Que pensaría tu mamá? What would your mother think?” I’ll never forget this— Shocker blinked right at me, silly mop over his bloodshot eyes, and got fuckin’ KO’d by the other guy. Ballistics. Everyone in the crowd must’ve thought it was their remark that threw him off, but isn’t it a better story if it’s mine?