The Dialectic of Darby Allin

Few professional wrestlers today embody the word “contradiction” more than Darby Allin.  Indeed, Darby’s two-year journey into the world of independent professional wrestling is best understood as a series of contradictions between, on one side, his personal wrestling aesthetic and accompanying skater culture-infused world-view, and on the other, the wrestling business’s well-established rules and conventions.  These puzzling contradictions, held together in dialectical tension, shape and inform exciting possibilities about what independent professional wrestling can be.  Perhaps, too, what it should be.  This profile aims to unpack these contradictions to illuminate one of the most exciting, if esoteric, stars of the independent wrestling scene.

Let me first be clear:  Darby Allin doesn’t give a shit about your match.   He won’t be watching you from back-stage, cheering for you, or hoping you hit your spots. Darby Allin won’t study or critique your promos, or offer any insight into their pitch, tone, pace, or cadence. Martin Scorsese famously never watches his movies after finishing them.  One could say the same about Allin, upon the completion of his own matches. “I don’t like super kicks… and I don’t even like to watch wrestling anymore,” Darby told me, almost apologizing. “I’d rather get my influences from real life.”  Darby’s credo underscores his commitment to delivering an utterly original product, one in which “wrestling that recycles wrestling” is strictly avoided.  One might say that Allin exudes a defiant indifference about the wrestling world around him, yet it’s an indifference the wrestling world cannot reciprocate.  Because Darby’s matches are simply too damn good.

And yet…you want some Darby Allin merch after the show?  I’m afraid you’re usually out of luck and will probably have to try online.  Go to any independent wrestling show, and afterwards most of the talent is dutifully chatting with fans, posing for pictures, and selling T-shirts—as Trevin Adams explains, this activity is a non-insignificant part of the typical independent wrestler’s income.  Just don’t expect to see Darby back there very often.  And while Darby’s approach to selling merchandise may change over time, right now this part of the business isn’t a priority for him.  Darby’s approach to engaging fans on social media mirrors his attitude toward selling merchandise.  For example, most other independent wrestlers carefully build up their followings on social media, all while honing their brands and cheerfully interacting with fans. In contrast, go ahead and tweet at Darby.  He won’t be tweeting back.  Occasionally, he’ll retweet a particularly mind-blowing spot of his in which incredulous fans wonder how and why he’s not yet dead.  But this approach shows that if there is a conventional road-map to success in the indies (work hard, hone your craft, and hustle to get your brand out there) that Allin is determined to chart his career in wrestling—and the art that he makes—on his terms alone.  Paradoxically, Allin’s refusal to build a brand therefore has become a brand in its own right.

I caught up with Allin after February’s EVOLVE 101 show in Joppa, Maryland.  I was immediately struck by the short and wiry, yet obviously fit figure he cuts.  A generation ago Darby would have no opportunity in wrestling outside of being on the business end of an occasional jobber squash.  Yet the successes of such wrestlers as Bryan Danielson and Johnny Gargano have shown how smaller wrestlers with elite athleticism and big personalities can headline events in the independent scene and beyond.  Indeed, Allin leverages his comparatively smaller stature to enhance the already compelling story he often tells in the ring: that of a physically outmatched competitor reliant on speed, tactics, risk, and heart to neutralize opponents who boast superior size and power. Allin’s impressive feud with Ethan Page in early 2017 centered on the latter’s contempt for what he perceived to be Allin’s underwhelming physical attributes.  The result was an entertaining series of “big man vs. little man” matches that forced Allin to maintain his distance, strike quickly (often from above!) and escape while Page sought to keep the match on the mat to overwhelm Allin with his power.  This theme would continue in outstanding matches with recent NXT call-up Keith Lee and later with Austrian big-man WALTER.

Photo Credit: Leonard Brand

Allin told me at the time that his then-upcoming match with WALTER was the one he looked forward to the most.  To him, WALTER “looks at me like I don’t belong here. It brings back everything that every screwed with me in the past.”  And while the match (originally scheduled for WWN’s More than Mania weekend) was postponed as he recovered from an injury, Allin finally met WALTER when Brooklyn, NY hosted EVOLVE 106 in June. The white-hot EVOLVE crowd watched Allin pull the upset through a creatively told match, in which Allin’s desperation leads him to repeatedly attack WALTER’s hand and eventually set up a pinfall—notably the same hand that WALTER regularly uses to brutalize his opponents with the stiffest chops in the wrestling business.  The victory over WALTER propelled Allin to his third EVOLVE main event opportunity, this Saturday in Chicago vs. former Matt Riddle at EVOLVE 110.

Allin faced Riddle once before in the Fatal Four Way that night at EVOLVE 101 in Joppa, to determine the #1 contender for Zach Sabre Jr.’s EVOLVE championship.  Their one-on-one action was brief but intense, and it captivated the audience.  I was struck watching Darby following his elimination, especially as the fast-paced in-ring action continued:  He crawled slowly, in ostensible agony, through the back curtain.  Though his loss was necessary to set up Matt Riddle’s well-built clash with Zach Sabre Jr. at WWN’s More than Mania show, Allin’s anguish nevertheless set Riddle’s triumph into sharp relief.  I described this moment to Darby, and he smiled at me:  “I love to sell.”  Again, the paradox is evident.  Allin gets tremendous satisfaction from selling to the crowd the heartbreak of his defeat, yet the heartbreak is real. Darby explained the viral video in which he spray-paints “LOSER” on his car following his unsuccessful EVOLVE title opportunity with Zach Sabre Jr.  He asks rhetorically, “My car?  That’s real life.  I drive that around.  ‘Hey Loser? Who did that do you?’  I did that to myself.  I still have champ tattooed in my mouth.  It isn’t a joke or a gimmick.  It’s real life.”  Of course Allin isn’t a loser.  He executed a phenomenal match with Zach Sabre Jr. according to a script directing that he would not win.  Yet he nevertheless feels like a loser, one determined to share intimately with the audience the excruciating pain of his loss—a process, paradoxically perhaps, that he finds more satisfying than even winning.

Thus far we see that Darby Allin charts his course in wrestling, defying traditional wrestling business conventions in many turns, while ironically privileging selling over winning.  The dominant place of art within his chosen medium of wrestling—manifested (as we’ll see) in his preference for spots as means to tell a story vs. ends in themselves—reveals Darby’s background in drama and his brief, contentious stint in film school.  As such, Allin believes that the chips, as the cliché goes, will fall where they may—just as long as he continues to create his art on his terms.  To take the poker analogy one step further, I asked Allin if his name is in reference to the game—pushing “All in” as an analogue to his “risk everything” approach. Well, no actually—though he appreciated the insight.  He takes his name as a tribute to GG Allin, an enigmatic punk scene icon more known for his outrageous on-stage spectacle than his music, until succumbing to a drug overdose in 1993.   This name-choice reveals yet another important element of the numerous, yet simultaneously true contradictions within Allin’s persona:  He’s completely drug and alcohol-free, with an avowed commitment to the straight edge lifestyle. Allin thrives in an eco-system in which drugs and alcohol were (at least once upon a time) the frequent answers to painful bumps and lonely nights on the road.  In this way Allin has emulated his straight edge forerunner and former independent wrestling icon CM Punk.  And like Punk’s legendary run in Ring of Honor, Allin will have the opportunity to solidify his spot in the title picture of a major independent wrestling promotion when he faces former EVOLVE and WWN Champion Matt Riddle this Saturday.

As Darby and I chat further, I begin to see the cultural and economic influences on his wrestling persona and in-ring style.  Darby emerges from a deep skating culture that he continues to embrace.  Skating continues to provide a social outsider like Darby an important sense of belonging with like-minded skaters, while the thrill of skating stunts has increased his comfort with risky physical-enterprises.  I ask Darby about the high spots he’s become known for in EVOLVE, and it’s clear that skating has prepared him for the bumps he experiences both inside and outside the ring.   Darby recounts that “from the [skating] lifestyle and the bumping—it hardens you up quick.”  And while it seems “reckless to you…it’s not reckless.  I think I’m safe, and I know I’m safe.  I just go limp, and don’t fight it.  When I start to fall, I get happy.  And I know how to take it.”  Although high spots form an integral component of his in-ring storytelling, Allin firmly rejects the notion that he’s simply a glorified “spot monkey”—a wrestler whose gimmick depends chiefly on completing a series of risky stunts throughout a match.  He explains that “with my spots, I like to build everything honestly. It’s not the spot…it’s how you get into the spot.  It’s not about the GIF…it’s about the full product.”  To Allin, spots aren’t ends in of themselves, but rather the means to tell a story that develops organically.  I can see that this distinction is tremendously important to him.

Photo Credit: John Dvorak

While skating undoubtedly continues to influence Darby’s wrestling aesthetic, his economic background adds additional depth to his wrestling persona. As we continue to talk, it becomes clear that he brings, perhaps subconsciously, the economic reality of growing up as a generally poor, working class white kid to every single wrestling show. Darby’s hunger for success in the business closely parallels the legitimate, real world hunger of his youth. Darby “was living off of $5 a week in food in Arizona” and relays that, “if you’ve ever shopped at the Dollar Tree, not for fun, but for groceries, that’s some shit.“ Darby also discusses the extended period of time when he, when just starting out in wrestling, slept in his car.  The very same one he spray-painted.

The great Bobby “The Brain” Heenan used to, as a heel announcer, pejoratively refer to wrestling enhancement talent as “Ham ‘N Eggers”—those wrestlers willing to do a job for enough money to buy a plate of ham and eggs.  The insult hurts because it is grounded in a measure of truth.  Yet despite preparing for his third main event in EVOLVE, there’s an unmistakable, scrappy, real-life Ham ‘N Egger persona that Allin proudly owns.  He knows that, absent success in professional wrestling, there’s a corresponding absence of certainty as to where his next meal comes from.  I tell Darby that the “all in” commitment to his craft reminds me of an ancient military strategy, in which upon landing on a hostile, foreign shore, the commander orders his troops to “burn the boats,” therefore eliminating the possibility of retreat and ensuring that the only way out is to either succeed or die.  This analogy resonates with Darby, who grins widely: “I’ve torched every damn boat.”  At EVOLVE 110, I’d bet that if Matt Riddle looks closely, he’ll see two fires:  The first consisting of all of Darby Allin’s life-options outside of professional wrestling, set ablaze at his own hand.  And the second fire, the one burning within Allin, and arguably more intense than the first.  It’s kindled with the explosive mix of Darby Allin’s real-world, desperate hunger, his “risk everything” skater worldview, and his unshakeable commitment to an art in which Darby—not the wrestling business—defines success.  When Matt Riddle meets Darby Allin at EVOLVE 110, he’ll have to confront each of these fires—both the one around Darby Allin and the one within him.  And from Allin’s perspective, burning the boats may be one thing, but burning the “Bro” is another.  I know I’ll be “all in” watching.

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