I inherited a pile of archive materials which included an innocuous local newsletter from the early 1970’s. In one small a column a contributor lamented the beginning of mass car ownership noting that commuters taking short cuts across the estate were reducing safety for children playing in the streets. Where would it end? Perhaps there would be a time when neighbours would not know each other and their interests would be connected only by use of personal transportation. We’re there now in many respects. I have friends all over the world – this week alone I have typed and received messages or spoken to people in America, Poland, Ireland, Scotland, Romania and of course with this column Sweden. Not so many on this street – I have arm wrestled a few of my neighbours on the trash can lid and had them over to play in my garden gym. None ever came twice. My community of friends are far flung, made available by personal transportation & modern technology. Road warrior culture is the way of things at least for me.
At the weekend I was co commentator with the Welsh Wolverine at Armgods England. Twelver matches with the co main event Mighty Noah vs The Vanilla Gorilla. Armgods put on live armwrestling shows in mostly unlikely locations aiming for a visceral and intense crowd experience. It’s livestreamed to subscribers. There are always difficulties and it is not surprising. Broadcasting corporations invest millions employing teams of trained sound, lighting, effects engineers and camera operators. They still manage to lose audio and visual signals for mainstream sporting events at the most inopportune moments. What hope a gang of armwrestling enthusiasts?
Well, there’s success to report, though not in the way most would measure. In varied roles of referee, commentator, mc, competitor or wrangler I’ve witnessed special things happen. Small communities come alive for weeks before when one of the locals is headlining a match card. “Is this armwrestling you do really a sport?” Who are you up against? And so the local challenger tells their story, shows the highlight reel of their opponent and grows their resolve to gain the victory. Tickets get sold. The travelling armwrestling circus comes to town complete with it’s larger than life characters sporting tattoos, strange haircuts and questionable dress sense.
Noah is much loved in his locality – that was obvious as he walked to the stage with his stats filling the giant LCD screen. Friends and family crowded the garden of the public house venue, some soaked by the rain as the canvas sheltered area was full. A few groups of children held up large signs that read “Come on Mighty Noah” and the cheering as he battled his much larger opponent was loud. They became intoxicated by the spectacle and I could feel it too. There was tension, uncertainty, setbacks. Will he prevail? Afterwards speeches were made, hands were shook and I felt drunk on the atmosphere. That’s never experienced through a screen. The best production expertise is at best third hand.
Community here has not been lost. It has grown and expanded with the technology. It only shrinks if everyone stays indoors behind their screens. Noah’s locality is going to talk about this for years to come. It will add to his mystique. Mitch’s size will increase over time, the troll under the bridge that had to be challenged. Noah will be asked at the petrol station who is next. People will point and smile in the grocery store. The collective memory of the battle will take on its own identity and the legend of the hometown hero established. It’s a magical thing to be part of.
See you down the road.
