Ordinary New Yorkers are getting in the ring,
At the House of Glory wrestling school in Jamaica, Queens, restaurant servers and Amazon warehouse staffers spend their off-hours learning to soar through the air and violently throw each other against the ropes — all while wearing elaborate costumes and using fierce nicknames.
“We teach people to roll, to bump, to protect themselves,” Jonathan “Red” Figueroa, the gym’s lead trainer and a former pro wrestler, told The Post. “We help them to create characters.”
Some students have WWE aspirations, while others are just looking for a colorful, extremely physical break from the daily grind.
All pay $200 per month for twice weekly sessions that include lessons, workouts with fellow students and guidance on creating their characters. Top fighters get to participate in shows — costumes required — that are put on a few times per month.
On a recent Wednesday night, a Bronx meathead character called Franco Costanzo — played by a young man named Frank William Costanz — dragged Moonspider — the Gene Simmons-esque alter ego of Edgar Velasco, a 44-year-old who works in shipping at Amazon — to the corner of the ring.
Smashing his opponent against the turnbuckle, Franco bellowed, “You don’t disrespect Bronx pizza.”
Minutes later, Moonspider grabbed Franco, raised him high in the air and slammed him down, back first, to end the match.
Brutal as it may look in the ring, it’s all choreographed and scripted for safety.
“If you have a history of dropping people on their heads, no one will work with you and you’ll never make it,” Red explained. “You get blackballed.”
But, even with training and precautions, injuries are common.
“It kills your body and makes you bleed. Apparently a fall in the ring is the equivalent of half a car accident,” said Red. “We’ve had ambulances arrive to take away the injured.”
Reuben Coach, a 26-year-old who works in various departments at the Soho Grand Hotel, has separated his shoulder several times wrestling as Jodi Aura — an intense opponent who sports a black leather jacket and a triangular talisman around his neck.
“I’m basically Neo meets Blade,” he told The Post, “kind of cyber punk, kind of futuristic.”
But, he just can’t quit.
“Wrestling is the most painful thing ever but also the most fun thing ever. I’m always reconsidering whether or not I want to keep doing this. But it’s not an option,” he said. “My love of wrestling keeps me going.”
The gym’s biggest succest story is Isiah “Brother Zay” Kassidy, 27, and Marq Quen, 30, who comprise a tag team known as Private Party.
The pair developed their shtick — they’re known for flying through the air — at House of Glory, over a few years, and have taken it to the next level.
They signed with All Elite Wrestling — a pro league essentially one notch below WWE, with matches airing on ESPN — in 2019.
That’s the sort of career that Dominick Gonzalez, a 26-year-old who used to perform as various Disney characters on cruise ships, has wanted since he was a young boy.
“I’ve never not known what wrestling is and never not loved it,” he said. “My earliest memories are of watching ‘Smackdown’ and getting beaten up by my older brothers. It’s been a dream to the point that when I do other things, such as performing on the cruise ship, something always seems to be missing.”
Red notes that it takes that kind of intense passion to thrive — or simply survive — in the theatrical sport.
He said, “You’ve got to be a little not right upstairs [to be part of this].”
