GOAT CURSE

JAN 18 2026
(text version under images)

SCHWAP!: A LOVE LETTER TO AMATEUR PRO WRESTLING + “MARTY SUPREME”

THOUGHT I DIDN’T REALLY CARE ABOUT SPORTS MOVIES, BUT I ALSO DON’T USUALLY WATCH SPORTS MOVIES SO DIDN’T REALLY HAVE A LEG TO STAND ON FOR WHY I THOUGHT I DIDN’T/WOULDN’T LIKE A SPORTS MOVIE.

I GUESS JUST BECAUSE I DON’T REALLY LIKE SPORTS — EXCEPT BOXING OR MAYBE RUGBY, BUT I THINK THERE’S PROBABLY SOMETHING GAY ABOUT BOTH OF THOSE SPORTS WHICH MAKES ME ENJOY THEM (POSSIBLE) OR I’M JUST GAY SO I LIKE SEEING GUYS FIGHT (MORE LIKELY) (SEE ALSO:

WRESTLING. ONE TIME I ATTENDED A MIDWESTERN AMATEUR PRO WRESTLING THING IN SALINE, MICHIGAN. IT WAS HELD IN A METAL CORRUGATED BUILDING IN A FIELD, THE SORT OF BUILDING YOU SEE PRIZE PIGS AND KIND-LOOKING COWS DISPLAYED IN DURING A COUNTY FAIR. I THINK I PAID LIKE $20 FOR ADMISSION. IT WAS ODDLY CROWDED; NOT AS IN SURPRISINGLY BUSY BUT MORE IN THE SENSE THAT THE SIZE OF THE CROWD WAS ODD; IT WASN’T BUSY ENOUGH TO FEEL LIKE A “REAL” EVENT BUT MORE CROWDED THAN I WAS EXPECTING BECAUSE THE PEOPLE IN SALINE, ON AVERAGE, LOOK A BIT MORE LIKE FARMER TYPES AND NOT REALLY ALTERNATIVE AND/OR CONSERVATIVE ENOUGH TO ENJOY PRO-WRESTLING. I CLEARLY MADE A SILLY ASSUMPTION ABOUT THE ATTENDEES OF A SPORT THAT I HAD NO PRIOR FAMILIARITY WITH, BUT THE STRANGE AMOUNT OF PEOPLE STILL STANDS. MAYBE THERE WERE LIKE FORTY PEOPLE?

SO ANYWAY. AMATEUR PRO WRESTLING. SO THESE WERE GUYS WHO WOULD DO TRICK JUMPS AND LAND FULLY ON THE MAT LIKE THREE INCHES FROM THE OTHER GUY AND WE ALL HAD TO PRETEND THAT HE HAD SUCCESSFULLY BODY-SLAMMED THE OTHER GUY. SOME MAN BEHIND ME KEPT TRYING TO ENGAGE SOMEONE ELSE IN CONVERSATION WHILE HIS KNOBBY KNEES PRESSED INTO MY SPINE (THE BLEACHERS WERE VERY CRAMPED), AND HE SAID HE’D DRIVEN FIFTY MILES TO BE HERE, IN SALINE MICHIGAN AT THREE P.M. ON A CLOUDY JANUARY SUNDAY, TO WATCH THE PERFORMERS FROM THE MPWA BELLY-FLOP ONTO GREY CANVAS AT THE WASHTENAW COUNTY FAIRGROUNDS. ASS COLDER THAN A SAILOR’S ON TIGHTLY-STACKED METAL SEATING.

MAYBE I SOUND DISRESPECTFUL OR NEGATIVE BUT TRUST ME, I HAD A GREAT TIME. I AM WAITING BREATHLESSLY FOR THE MPWA’S NEXT APPEARANCE IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE SO I CAN SIT UNDER COLD LIGHTS WITH CLINICAL BRIGHTNESS WATCHING THE CENTER REFEREE, A LANKY BLONDE DUDE WEARING VERTICAL STRIPES, GET BORDERLINE ASSAULTED BY A LARGE MAN IN A NEON PINK SPEEDO AND A HIGHLIGHTER-GREEN FANNY PACK (AESTHETIC VISION UNCLEAR). I HAVE NEVER FELT AS ENTHUSIASTIC ABOUT ANY COMPETITOR AS I DID THAT AFTERNOON WHEN MASERATI RICK DID A SWAN-DIVE FROM THE BRET’S ROPE, FLYING THROUGH THE AIR, A YELLOW-SPEEDOED BLIMP, TO LAND, BASICALLY, MORE OR LESS, ON TOP OF SOME GUY WEARING BLUE LEGGINGS AND A KATANA THAT WAS NEVER DRAWN. I ROOTED FOR STUDIO 86, A DUO THAT SOMETIMES DID CHOREOGRAPHED DANCES AND RAN AROUND THE RING IN A SMALL CIRCLE, WEARING MATCHING YELLOW GOGGLES FOR SOME REASON.

I THINK THAT AMATEUR PRO WRESTLING IS MORE APPEALING TO ME THAN MOST OTHER SPORTS (INCLUDING THE MORE POPULAR WWE SHIT) BECAUSE THERE’S A SORT OF HONESTY IN THE OBVIOUS THEATRICS AND INEFFECTIVE BEATDOWNS, AND THERE’S AN APPEALING SUSPENSION OF DISBELIEF — THE THRESHOLD FOR WHICH IS SEVERAL NOTCHES HIGHER THAN FOR “PRO” PRO WRESTLING — FROM THE AUDIENCE THAT, YES, “ROB CLOONEY” DOES LOOK LIKE GEORGE CLOONEY (HE KIND OF DOES?) AND WE ARE CHEERING FOR HIM OR AGAINST HIM BECAUSE OF THIS FANTASTICALLY UNCANNY RESEMBLANCE. LESSER-KNOWN WRESTLERS DON’T REALLY LEAN ON LONG-RUNNING LORE AND FAKE BEEFS LIKE JOHN CENA CAN, SO INSTEAD OF CIRCLING THE RING NEGGING THEIR OPPONENT FOR FORTY-FIVE MINUTES, THEY ACTUALLY HAVE TO FIGHT AFTER PROVOKING EACH OTHER FOR MAYBE TEN. THE DEDICATION TO THE PERFORMANCE AND THEATRICALITY HAS A SORT OF GLADIATOR/ANCIENT GRECIAN APPEAL, BUT THESE LOW-BUDGET EVENTS ALSO HAVE A LIGHTHEARTEDNESS AND OPTIMISM THAT I SOMEHOW FEEL LIKE IS MISSING FROM THE BIGGER PRO WRESTLING EVENTS. MAYBE IT’S THE HUMBLE, GROUNDED VENUE OR THE SMILING FACES OF THE FIGHTERS REGARDLESS OF WHETHER THEY WIN. MAYBE IT’S THE GENUINE (I HOPE) ENJOYMENT IN WHAT THEY’RE DOING. NOT THE MOST FAMOUS, NOT THE RICHEST, BUT AUTHENTIC. THESE SORTS OF COMPLIMENTS WOULD MEAN NOTHING TO MARTY MAUSER).

***

MARTY SUPREME (2025)
MY RATING: 4.5/5 STARS
[3/28/2026 note: I would probably change this rating to, like, a four or three-point-five. I tend to give movies higher scores when I see them in the cinema because the sound design is great and my eyes become full of stars at the majesty of the Theatre Experience.]

I always dig movies about obsession and determination, and post-WWII America is a super interesting setting for a narrative about a Jewish man who wants to prove himself, become famous, be remembered, etc. (depending somewhat on how you interpret his character). The movie also feels pretty timely in its parallels to America’s “hustle”/”grindset” culture, and in its representation of the American Dream of being famous and immortal not necessarily being attainable through raw, desperate passion alone. Marty also sucks, and I am a sucker for narratives with unlikable protagonists. He spends the movie using other people or at best ignoring them, throwing away his chances at creating a stable life (e.g. his job, or the baby he spends practically the whole movie either denying his relation to or effectively ignoring the existence of) for the sake of pursuing a dream with feverish intensity, only to realize he’s not quite good enough. At a certain point he’s destroyed his relationships and chances of success to the point where his final win is effectively meaningless. It seems like he doesn’t grow during the whole movie until the very end, where he finally takes some responsibility for the first time by accepting Rachel’s baby as his — (a) perhaps showing the baby will be the part of him that will live on, rather than any scraps of popularity from his would-be ping-pong career, and/or (b) simply showing that he is forced to grow up and accept the future. A future without table tennis. Tragic.
Also: the Tears For Fears needledrop? Him crying like a baby when he sees his kid? And then the credits? Yeah… good stuff.

P.S. I also think much of my enjoyment for this movie comes from it being an After Hours-esque race against time (although, to be clear, After Hours (1985) is better and it’s not even close. It is one of my favorite movies of all time. Watch it if you want to feel like you’re trapped in purgatory). I LOVE After Hours and I love when characters are in a constant state of panic!