In the center of the wrestling ring, under the bright lights, two athletes stand poised, muscles tensed, anticipation crackling in the air. The crowd roars, their cheers and jeers echoing off the walls. The referee, dressed in black and white stripes, signals for the match to begin. Miguel, or as he’s better known here, La Tarántula, meets his opponent with a thunderous display of strength.

Minutes pass, and the bell rings to signal the end of the round. The crowd is going wild, each vying for a picture of Miguel as he sits in the corner. You slide your way through security, flashing a clearance card whenever you were stopped; you had promised to visit your boyfriend during his match after all. Once at the edge of the ring, Miguel flashed a smile, which you could only see through a tear in his mask.

“See anything you like, mi amor?” He teases as some blood drips out of his nose.