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Grappling for a piece of
the local action By Dave Doyle, Globe Staff, 8/3/2026 In 14 years in
the ring, Scott Despres has wrestled at a zoo fund-raiser, using an empty, dirty monkey
cage as a locker room. He has driven, on his
own dime, as far as Nova Scotia to appear as an extra in the old World Wrestling
Federation (now World Wrestling Entertainment television). And he has an
arthritic neck at 33 – proof that even though match outcomes are predetermined,
wrestling’s daily grind is by no means fake. So when
Despres, who competes under the ring name Maverick Wild, says that Jamaica Plain-based New
England Championship Wrestling is one of the best local outfits he has ever worked for, he
knows of what he speaks. NECW will celebrate
a rare milestone in the often fly-by-night world of independent professional wrestling
with its third anniversary show at the Good Time Emporium in Somerville next Sunday night. “The odds are always against you when you try
to make it in the wrestling business,” said Despres, who is the New England outfit’s
current heavyweight champion. “A lot of
people who try to promote wrestling don’t know what they are doing and blow through a
lot of money. Most of them are out of
business in six months.” “But we’ve
been at it for three years. NECW has a vision
for what it wants to do and a sense of direction that’s usually lacking at this
level. That makes it a lot easier to go out
and get your energy up.” The brains
behind NECW is lifelong Bostonian Sheldon Goldberg, 47, made his mark in the city theater
scene, producing a Motown review called “Dancing in the Street!” that ran for
two years and followed with a run at Ford’s Theater in Washington, D.C. Goldberg is
also a lifelong fan of the grappling game, having spent many childhood nights sneaking
away from his parents’ home in Mattapan to catch the exploits of old-school stars
such as Bruno Sammartino, Pedro Morales, and Chief Jay Strongbow at the Boston Garden. “I
certainly didn’t set out to become a wrestling promoter,” said Goldberg. “I always loved the wrestling business and
one thing led to another.” In the early
1990’s, he published a wrestling memorabilia newsletter called Mat Marketplace. By 1997, he had helped broker deals that
ultimately landed Japanese wrestling standouts Taka Michinoku and The Great Sasuke
full-time contracts with the WWE. The creation of
NECW came three years ago, after business associate Anthony Magliaro of Revere, a
successful North Shore promoter known to wrestling fans as The Boston Bad Boy Tony Rumble,
died of a heart attack. “Tony was
my best friend in wrestling,” said Goldberg. “He
lived for the business… We had a shared goal of running a regional wrestling
promotion… I didn’t want to let all the effort he put into building the local
wrestling scene die with him.” For decades,
local promoters operated on a simple formula: A
typical wrestling show would be sold for a flat fee to a local charity, which would then
sell the tickets and keep the profits. Frequently,
the show was main-evented by former Garden headliners, such as King Kong Bundy and Jimmy
“Superfly” Snuka, with local talent filling out the show. National-name
grapplers might help draw a crowd for one night, but they don’t help create new
stars. Local talent can’t make names for
themselves if they are positioned as unimportant to the show. So out went Bundy and the Superfly. Local mainstays Wild, Alex Arion and Brutal Bob
Evans became the new headliners. “Many
thought it was a big gamble on my part,” Goldberg said. “But I had faith in the quality of these guys
and their marketability.” Then there was
the problem of perception. When wrestling
became starkly lewder and more profane during its late-1990’s boom period, it became
harder for local groups to book shows, as charities no longer wanted to be associated with
wrestling. “Only a
parent can decide what’s appropriate for their kids, “ said Goldberg, who
ultimately persuaded Good Time to allow monthly shows and signed on Budweiser as the main
sponsor. “Wrestling is simulated
competition with an element of violence. But
there’s no swearing on our shows, no nudity, no man-on-women violence, no pandering
to racial stereotypes. We want parents to
know that NECW is as family-friendly a product as pro wrestling can be.” Goldberg is
under no impression that he is ever going to compete with WWE kingpin Vince McMahon for
the national wrestling throne. What he would
like is to see NECW develop a niche in the local minor-league sports landscape, competing
for the same low-priced entertainment dollar as local professional baseball, hockey and
lacrosse franchises. Reaching that
level will require regular television exposure, a luxury only a handful of independent
organizations around the country have. NECW
will hold a pilot television taping in September. Goldberg
recently hired former long-time WWE announcer and behind-the-scenes manager Kevin Kelly to
help with the transition. Wrestling has
lost a degree of popularity since its peak, but Kelly thinks NECW can deliver what many
fans want: hard-hitting in-ring athletics without the out-of-ring soap opera. The main event at Good Time is a four-man,
45-minute, most-falls-wins showdown, with Wild putting his title on the line against
Evans, Arion and Antonio “The Promise” Thomas. “Wrestling
is the same, whether it is in a big arena or at a small club,” said Kelly. “All that differs is the scope of the
presentation.” The connection
at smaller venues is what keeps the wrestlers going.
“When you get the crowd behind you, it is like the feeling you get when
you get off a roller coaster,” said NECW’s Randy Lockwood, 20, already a
four-year veteran under the name J. Busta. “There’s
a real connection to the people at these events, “ he said. “I know the injuries will probably catch up
to me in the long run, but I’m traveling the country, making friends along the way,
and getting to meet the people and entertain them. I
wouldn’t trade that for anything.” None of the
NECW wrestlers are making big money. Lockwood,
of Connecticut, works both as a landscaper and at a grocery store during the week. On a recent weekend he left work on a Friday,
drove to Allentown, Pa., for a booking, then turned back and wrestled in Hamden, Conn.,
the next night. Despres, a Fitchburg native,
works for the family roofing business, Multistate Roofing of Winchendon, during the week. “That’s
just the half of it,” said Despres. “You
gotta work all week, you gotta put a couple hours in the gym every day, you try to get at
least one practice session in a ring to keep from getting rusty. Then you gotta travel all over for the shows.” “You don’t
get the high of performing every night,” he said.
“But when you do, and have 300 people in the palm of your hand, it is a
high like you’ve never experienced.” (Note:
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