The Fourth Wall of Jericho: Wrestling with COVID
In our inaugural episode, Ambar gets introduced to the basics of pro-wrestling. Millennium Pro Wrestling star, Kristin Bell, helps us dive into the supernatural world of the mysterious Auntie Hydie. Together, we learn about the characters of wrestling and how they correlate with the wrestlers portraying them.
Professional wrestling is unlike any sport because there is no off-season. You’re either working shows or you’re injured and you’re lucky if you never experience the latter. But nobody expected what threw a wrench in 2020 — nobody expected COVID.
Kyle Woodin wasn’t expecting it. Woodin, 27, has been desperately pursuing his wrestling career. It’s the culmination of a childhood dream. If you ever knew him growing up, Woodin would probably talk your head off about pro wrestling — the latest episode of “Monday Night Raw” or the latest shenanigans of Hulk Hogan, Scott Hall, and Kevin Nash as the New World Order. He’d show you the figures he had of Mankind, The Rock, and “Stone Cold” Steve Austin, lining up his bedroom. You’d think wrestling was the only thing he ever loved.
But in his attempts to make his dreams a reality, Woodin has faced his fair share of bumps. In 2014, Woodin came across Pro Wrestling CT, a wrestling school in his home state of Connecticut.
“Literally all my money just went straight into this wrestling school,” said Woodin. “Being so close to a wrestling ring was just so surreal.”
During his training, Wooding adopted the name “Good Looks” Donnie Brooks, a pretty boy with a sinister side. Playing Brooks gave Woodin a boost of confidence he wasn’t anticipating. The generally good-natured Woodin got to play a vile heel or bad guy in wrestling. He used dirty tactics to cheat during his matches and would smack talk his opponents during backstage segments.
It helped him more than he could ever imagine as Woodin would be nervous hours before his matches.
“I would feel sick to my stomach,” he said. “And then the second that I would walk out the curtain. I can just be a jerk and just shit talk to fans.”
But despite being interconnected with Donnie Brooks for much of his early adulthood, Woodin claims that the character is almost elusive to him and it’s all from a life-changing decision he made a year into his training. In 2015, Woodin packed up his whole life into a few bags and moved across the country to Santa Barbara, California to be with his longtime girlfriend, Genie Guzelian. He knew the move would derail the little training he had up to that point.
“I just wanted to be with her,” Woodin said. He had been in a long-distance relationship with Guzelian for over three years at that point. “I had no job lined up and not that much money saved. It was the biggest risk I had ever taken.”
Woodin figured his time away from the ring would be brief — six months at most. But living thousands of miles away from his family began to take a toll on him. Six months eventually turned into five years.
Finally, in early 2020, after being in talks with a wrestling school called Millenium Pro Wrestling in Moorpark, California. Woodin decided to get back into the ring. It wasn’t an easy one, but one he felt he needed to make for his own sake. He had recently gotten a job at a car parts store and, similar to what he did all those years ago, saved up enough money to put a down payment for three months of training.
“I went to the school’s owner and gave him all the money I had. I wasn’t going to make excuses anymore,” he said.
After two days of training, the state shut down because of COVID restrictions.
In the chaos of the early days of the pandemic, all gatherings were banned. Wrestling promotions canceled all their upcoming events and all training sessions were halted until further notice. It wasn’t just the independent promotions feeling the heat, WWE was forced to relocate their biggest event of the year, WrestleMania 36, from the Raymond James Stadium in Tampa, Florida to their training school, the WWE Performance Center, in nearby Orlando.
Heartbroken, Woodin quarantined himself along with his girlfriend and their dog, Scully. It was back to the drawing board — at least for now.
As the months went by, restrictions began to ease in California. Some promotions were allowing shows to happen, with obvious rules following CDC guidelines. But, due to his lack of training, Woodin couldn’t partake. Once again leaving his journey in limbo.
One of his peers, however, was able to take advantage of the unprecedented situation. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to reinvent her character — it was time for Auntie Hydie to come out of her shell.
Kristin Bell’s relationship with wrestling hasn’t been as consistent as some of her peers. She was introduced to WWE, then known as the WWF, during the Attitude Era where sex was at the forefront of wrestling. Women’s wrestling called the “Diva’s division” back then, wasn’t given the same dignity it has now. Divas were subjected to catfights, mud wrestling, and bra and panties matches.
“I used to pretend I didn’t like it,” said Bell, 34, looking back at the matches she used to watch. “I eventually forgot about it.”
Bell didn’t get back into wrestling until college when a friend re-introduced it back to her. During that time that Kane and The Undertaker, known as “The Brothers of Destruction”, were involved in a feud that sparked something inside of her. It was the mix of theatricality and combat, she said, comparing it to opera.
That was when Bell decided she wanted to make a career out of wrestling. A friend recommended MPW, the training school where Bell eventually created a character inspired by the wrestlers she had grown up watching — Auntie Hydie.
“She’s an extension of me,” Bell said. “Sometimes I feel that I hold back and, through her, I can be more theatrical.”
So who is Auntie Hydie? Think the Undertaker meets Mick Foley’s Mankind. She’s a disheveled madwoman who hunches over to the ring and grunts at her opponents. When you look at Auntie Hydie, with her top hat and suspenders, one wouldn’t blame you for thinking her character amounts to nothing but crazed shenanigans in the ring. However, similar to her namesake, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, there’s a darkness to Auntie Hydie, which Bell has enjoyed playing around with.
“She’s more of a tragic figure than anything,” said Bell. Hydie, usually a singles competitor, is desperately seeking a friend but because of her outward appearance and naivety, her peers take advantage of her, ultimately betraying her when they get the chance.
Before the state shut down, Auntie Hydie was on her way to reclaiming the MPW Tag Team Titles with her partner, Barbie Boy. It was a huge step for her character, to have a partner that she could team with. Bell was also using her time to get more fluid in the ring — to make her footwork less stiff. But then COVID hit.
Luckily, Bell had another job to support herself financially. She’s a security guard at the Northridge Mall, calling it her “shoot” job — shoot being wrestling slang for “real-life”. As shops reopened, Bell was able to go to work but she didn’t want to waste the progress she made in her training. Being away from the ring gave Bell time to think about what she wanted to achieve with Auntie Hydie.
A former animator, Bell has been in the process of creating a storybook about Auntie Hydie’s life, to create a deep backstory behind her — much like the lore of the Undertaker and Kane that she had loved watching.
The project reignited Bell’s love for art, but it has also helped her connect with Auntie Hydie. “I’m making drawings that Hydie would make herself,” Bell said. “I feel like I’m getting inside of her head.”
That’s another thing that’s special about wrestling, getting to play a character. In wrestling, everything the happens in the ring is in “kayfabe” — or portraying events as real or true despite it being scripted. Wrestling can’t exist without kayfabe, it’s integral to keep the facade.
“People who don’t take the time to watch it wouldn’t really understand it because they look at all the glitz, the glam,” said Serafin Santiago, an announcer for the Urban Wrestling League, a New York-based promotion that has been in business since the 90s.
According to Santiago, kayfabe has played a deeper role in the psychology of wrestling. It’s important to understand because it helps one learn the motivations behind each character in the ring. “There’s a lot of layers to people and what you’re going to end up seeing is what they are allowing you to see,” he said.
Kayfabe is the inside joke that all fans are in on, the suspension of disbelief that keeps the show going. It’s helped to establish dozens of well-known characters from The Undertaker and Mankind to Vader and Kane. But it’s hard to keep kayfabe alive when you’re not actively playing that character.
Unlike Bell, Woodin doesn’t have as deep of a connection with his character, Donnie Brooks despite the two being synonymous with each other for half a decade. But he refuses to let his current situation hinder him from his dreams.
“I can’t go another five years without wrestling,” he said. “Even if I have to restart 1000 times, I’m going to get back into a ring.”
The road ahead will be difficult — for Woodin, Bell, and the millions of Americans who are still braving the COVID storm. But with all the craziness going on, the wrestling world has proved that it can still produce great stories and characters, even if they aren’t going for a pin in the ring.
