Game Changer Wrestling / The Immortal Clusterfuck
April 18 & 19 • The Horseshoe • Las Vegas, NV
Show #78

The Collective ends with The Clusterfuck. Beyond some sort of opening match (this year, a death match in a cage), the multi-hour run time is almost entirely the namesake match, which is normally around 100 performers entering at random intervals.

Eliminations can be via pinfall, submission, being thrown over the top rope and both feet touching the floor, leaving the building, or death.

I promised myself to survive the Clusterfuck this year; the midnight start is a challenge for someone who's rarely up that late anymore.

This year's Clusterfuck included a dance number, three dinosaurs, thrown lemons, a few retired legends, cowboys vs cowboys, The Invisible Man, Nyquil mist, Starman (from NES Pro Wrestling), the continued torture of Parrow by twinks, a brief Slap Fight, a fight between two well known wrestling journalists, a lot of kissing...

It was fantastic, and while I didn't make it to the end, it was one of my favorite shows of the weekend.

It was finally at 2:30 AM, with an unknown number of competitors left to enter, and a redeye flight home less than 24 hours away, reality crept in. My pilgrimage to wrestling had to end. Sleep was most necessary.

I crept out of my seat, took one long last loop around the event room at the Horseshoe, and made peace with another strange week of devoting a vacation to wrestling.

Epilogue

Leaving shows at the Horseshoe required traversing a long hall back to the main part of the casino, no matter if I was chasing to walk back down the strip to my hotel, or if I needed to take an Uber somewhere else.

While making the walk this last time, I found myself behind a couple headed the same direction. Kindred spirits calling it a night on a lot of wrestling. One half of the couple was wearing Slowpoke onesie pajamas; perhaps not the weirdest thing to see on a casino in Vegas at 2:30 in the morning.

But the hair was a giveaway: it was Kidd Bandit, who I had just seen retire from wrestling that morning.

And I had a brief moment of reflection. I've been lucky enough to have now seen over 1,000 wrestlers share this very strange art. They've told stories, taken risks with their bodies, made me laugh, bled out, booked their own shows, and put so much of themselves into the world.

And sometimes, it has to end. An injury, a life choice, the end of a contract, visa issues – every match could be someone's last. Every show could be the last time I see a wrestler that I appreciate.

Like the match posters always say: Card Is Subject To Change.

And as I called an Uber to take me back to my hotel, I watched Kidd Bandit wandered into the casino floor, and disappear between the slot machines.