Myles Hawkins smirked as an announcer introduced the wrestler to a crowd packed inside a Southern Maryland fire station.
A chorus of boos rang out as the Siesta Key, Florida, native teased his opponent, shimmying loose the custom-made sleeveless vest that matched his trunks, kneepads and boots. The chiseled athletes circled one another like predators stalking prey before delivering dropkicks, flipping off the top rope and fighting free from headlocks.
This wasn’t one of the big-time televised matches put on by World Wrestling Entertainment. The venue was smaller, the crowd only about 600 strong. But there were reminders everywhere — from the camera pointed at Hawkins to the 18-year WWE veteran standing opposite him in the ring — that this is just one step away from the big leagues.
For those who dream of having a match in front of the estimated 2.7 million households that tuned into WrestleMania last year, the first step is learning to captivate an audience at MCW Pro Wrestling, Maryland’s largest independent wrestling promotion and trainer of aspiring performers.
The Baltimore Banner thanks its sponsors. Become one.
Tucked in a strip mall in Joppatowne, the company’s Harford County headquarters and training center are sought out by wrestling hopefuls around the nation. The sprawling space inside a former K-Mart has three full-size wrestling rings, audio and video equipment, and a podcast studio. Breakaway trash cans and other in-ring weapons litter the floor, and posters of past shows featuring famous guest stars such as Ric Flair and the Hardy Boyz cover the walls.
Co-owners Dan McDevitt and Dennis Wipprecht, a former wrestler and onetime backyard wrestling promoter, respectively, teamed up in 1998 to start MCW, then known as Maryland Championship Wrestling. The promotion has since served as a pipeline to fame, launching stars such as All Elite Wrestling’s Lio Rush and Action Andretti, and former WWE women’s champions Mickie James and Lita, the latter of whom thanked McDevitt in her Hall of Fame induction speech.
The Maryland wrestling company’s top brass agree that 28-year-old Hawkins (real name: Eddie Nottingham) will probably be the next to get an opportunity with one of the big companies.
Although a wrestling fan since childhood, Hawkins arrived at MCW only in 2019. He was in his last year as an NCAA Division II baseball player at Shepherd University in West Virginia and had pondered going pro, but he was he losing interest in the sport.
In April of that year, he watched one of his favorite wrestlers, Kofi Kingston, win at WrestleMania. Once baseball season ended, Hawkins signed up for training.
The Baltimore Banner thanks its sponsors. Become one.
“Coming from an athletics background, I know body control, I know how to move,” Hawkins said. “But there’s nothing that can prepare you for the impact of the ring.”
At the March 22 stop on the promotion’s Spring Fever tour, the Mount Saint Joseph High School graduate squared off against former WWE world heavyweight champion Dolph Ziggler, now known by his real name, Nic Nemeth.
Hawkins lost but only after the athlete flipped himself off the top rope, stomped on Nemeth’s chest in midair and pulled him down by his neck, rattling the ring’s metal and wood as Nemeth’s body slammed to the ground.
Behind the scenes, Hawkins’ arrogant, bad guy persona fell to reveal a more humble and soft-spoken man.
“MCW has the reputation that they can make a call to somebody like Nic Nemeth, who has done everything everywhere against everybody, and go, ‘Hey, we have this kid that we want you to wrestle,’ ” Hawkins said. “That felt amazing.”
The Baltimore Banner thanks its sponsors. Become one.
The promotion has attracted students from thousands of miles away, including Hellfire McGuire (real name: Karsten Roche). When he decided to pursue training, he packed up his Mustang in Winnipeg, Canada, and moved to Baltimore so he could train in Joppatowne.
“MCW’s got a school you hear about,” he said.
McDevitt likened the training program to college football. He estimated that, out of a few hundred trainees, about 20 have made it to the professional leagues, which have television and streaming deals that help furnish wrestlers with salaries that can reach the multimillions.
Before they can perform at a show, prospective wrestlers must endure months of grueling training designed to improve their conditioning and build the know-how to convincingly (and safely) perform moves that suspend disbelief.
Trainees are also put to work in supporting roles during shows, unloading wrestling ring pieces from a truck and setting up hundreds of chairs before another Spring Fever event at North Point Flea Market in Dundalk.
The Baltimore Banner thanks its sponsors. Become one.
One of them was 27-year-old Sacoy Sales, a logistics coordinator who drives two hours from Manassas, Virginia, to train in MCW’s beginner class. If he sticks with it, he’ll graduate to weekend birthday party performances at the Joppatowne center before wrestling in regular shows.
“You have to get that experience [of] being able to manipulate a crowd and being able to respond to a crowd and think on your feet,” said Tara Meyer, the company’s director of operations. “If you can do that in front of 50 8-year-olds, then you’re probably gonna be able to do it in front of 500 30-year-olds.”
Over a 25-year career in wrestling, Meyer, 52, has done almost every job in the industry. She’s co-hosted a radio show, refereed, managed and even stepped into the ring herself, often going up against future WWE champ James. But an accident in the ring left Meyer with a broken neck.
“It’s actually a really common injury in wrestling. You can still wrestle with a broken neck and after a broken neck, which is what I did, so I probably made it a little bit worse,” she said, eventually leading to spinal fusion surgery.
Now Meyer runs the show. At the Dundalk event, she did everything from lending a trainee her credit card to buy the venue more toilet paper to filming postmatch interviews that she quickly edited and posted to social media.
The Baltimore Banner thanks its sponsors. Become one.
Those who wanted to see the action in person stood in a long line outside the flea market. Kyle Smith, holding his WWE championship belt over his shoulder, was among them.
Although he’s a fan of the televised events, he enjoys the intimacy and fan friendliness the smaller independent shows offer.
“You can meet all the guys that you see in your hometown, and then also sometimes they bring in big talent that’ll draw people in,” the Dundalk resident said. “But I think it’s about the little guys, the local wrestlers.”
It was packed inside the venue as kids leaned over the railing to get a high-five from wrestlers while adults heckled the performers.
Matches tend to be short, which makes time a valuable commodity.
The Baltimore Banner thanks its sponsors. Become one.
“I’m only out there 10, 12 minutes, but it’s like I barely sleep the night before,” “Miami” Mike Walker said after his bout.
“Ask your wife how long I last,” a wrestler yelled to a fan who teased him for being eliminated from a battle royale match.
But each moment in the ring is a chance to be noticed. McDevitt said he often has to turn down experienced wrestlers seeking a spot on one of the 25 to 30 shows his business puts on each year.
MCW standout Action Andretti (real name: Tyler Reber) got a shot to try out for the Florida-based AEW and signed a contract with it in 2022. He won his first televised match against former champion Chris Jericho and now performs in a tag team alongside Lio Rush, another MCW product.
“I prepared myself each and every day for an opportunity like that,” he said.
The rarity of big breaks is a reminder of how hard it is to get to the top, said Nemeth, who has performed at WrestleMania 10 times.
“The goal,” he said, ”is to make it to WrestleMania and then go, ‘I’m the guy that should be main-eventing WrestleMania.’ And so few people will ever do it."
Comments
Welcome to The Banner's subscriber-only commenting community. Please review our community guidelines.