The Pitfalls of Setting Up Poland's First Professional Wrestling Federation

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The Pitfalls of Setting Up Poland's First Professional Wrestling Federation

According to American founder Don Roid, Poles don't understand wrestling because they take fighting too seriously.

I never would have thought that anything resembling American wrestling could exist in Poland – at least not in my lifetime. I was wrong. Do or Die Wrestling, is Poland's first professional wrestling federation. Set up back in 2009, in the southeastern city of Rzeszów, by American wrestler Don Roid (his real name is Daniel Ausitn), it's aim is to promote the sport around Eastern Europe.

A couple of weeks ago, Do or Die Wrestling held an event in Warsaw in a community centre in centre of the city. Although the actual wrestling didn't have much to do with what I'd seen on TV, the show was passionate and the fights spectacular – packed with dangerous manoeuvres, sweat and a lot of blood. It wasn’t just wrestling – it was our very own, Polish wrestling. After the show, I caught up with Don Roid for a chat.

Annons

You’re an American, who moved to Poland and set up a professional wrestling federation. Could you tell me a little more about yourself and how it all happened?
Don Roid: My name is Daniel Austin, but on the ring I’m Don Roid. I was born in Pennsylvania in 1981 and have loved wrestling for as long as I can remember. My mum worked at a local radio station, so whenever the WWF [World Wrestling Federation] came to our town she was given a couple of free tickets and took me to see the fights. I saw Hulk Hogan, the Ultimate Warrior and André the Giant in action. It was then that I decided I wanted to be just like them – a wrestler. As a teenager, I wrestled with friends in my backyard and once I turned 19, I travelled to New Jersey for my first professional training session.

Who was your trainer?
A wrestler called The Executioner. He was already quite old when he took me in – probably around 60 – so I trained with his son. I had my first fight the following year. I’ll never forget it.

Why’s that?
It was January 2001 when the Executioner decided I’m ready. He booked me a fight that took place at some gym in a New Jersey high school, a six-hour drive away from where I lived. I didn't have a driving license back then, so a friend drove me there. Quite a lot of people showed up, around 700 or 800. I knew that a couple of contemporary WWE [World Wrestling Entertainment] stars were to fight at that show – Brutus “The Barber” Beefcake and the Bushwackers duo.

Annons

I met Butch from the Bushwackers in the changing room, but his partner was missing. When I asked about where he was, Butch told me: “He’s in the women’s changing room, 'cause he’s gay.” A few moments later I also learned that there was a midget fight scheduled for that evening.

That’s a beautiful beginning. How was the fight?
Tragic. First they forgot about me, and when I finally stepped on the ring, my slot only lasted for three or four minutes. I lost by pinfall – my opponent held me in a Boston Crab. Later, on our drive back, my friend fell asleep behind the wheel and drove into a ditch. Thankfully nothing bad happened to us.

Joe Legend vs Don Roid. Photo by Attila Husejnow.

I see that it didn’t scare you off.
That’s right. I kept on fighting for the next four years – mostly in America, but I also went to Germany a couple of times. I started seeing a Polish girl during those trips. She lived in Rzeszów, and she’s now my wife.

That's how you decided to move to Poland and found your own federation?
I moved here in 2005 to be with my wife, but that didn’t stop me walking into the ring. I started performing around Europe – mainly in France, Switzerland, Germany and Austria. It took me four years to create Do or Die Wrestling, the first Polish federation, and at the same time the first wrestling school in Eastern Europe.

It’s quite an American form of entertainment. How did the Poles take it?
I'm not sure Polish people understand what pro-wrestling is. Your history is full of wars, you were always engaged in a battle with someone – so the very idea of fighting, even when as a sport, is a very serious deal to you. In general, as a nation, you are very serious. Americans can chill out a bit. We understand that this is just entertainment. It’s still a sport, as everything that happens in the ring hurts quite a lot, but it’s strictly for the enjoyment of the audience.

Annons

Joe Legend vs Don Roid. Photo by Attila Husejnow.

A masochistic kind of fun?
In a way, yes. The pain is real – our bodies hit a wooden floor, not a trampoline. But we also work hard to make sure that no one gets seriously hurt. This is what sets us apart from MMA. Our fights have to be spectacular, whereas in MMA, wrestlers fight standing up for the first few minutes. Then they turn to ground-fighting and just spent the remaining time crawling on the floor of the octagon.

Yeah, but your fights are staged.
Not entirely. Sure, we do plan a lot before the fight, and that’s no secret. Thirty years ago, people actually did wonder if what we’re doing on the ring is real or not, but these times are long gone.

What do you remember from the first days of DDW?
I thought that people would go mad about it, considering there had never been something like that in Poland before. I thought that teenagers would want to sign up for training and then join the federation. I was wrong. But I still managed to create a Polish wrestling team that not only performs here, but also fights abroad.

Don Roid. Photo by Attila Husejnow.

Can you give me some of their names?
Kamil Aleksander, Klarys, Luksus, the Beautiful Bachelor – and there’s also Bianka, the first Polish female wrestler. There are lots more.

What kind of people come to your events?
It differs. In Warsaw it’s mainly college students, in Rzeszów it’s families, and in Wrocław’s pretty mixed. I’m never quite sure who’s going to come.

Annons

Do you remember any particular fights or anecdotes?
Yes, during one of the fights I got hit on the head with a chair and started bleeding profusely. I fell out of the ring, and there was a little boy sitting in the first row. He was sure that my cut was fake – he told his friends “It’s just ketchup!”, stuck his finger in my wound and put it in his mouth.

Oh crap.
Yeah, he literally turned green.

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