Wrestlers, fans fuel growth of local independent wrestling scene
By Dean Mirshahi VPM | 9/4/2025, 6 p.m.

Despite the uncomfortably hot July night, hundreds of Richmonders huddled around a wrestling ring that was set up for RVA Pro Wrestling’s “Wrestle Riot.”
It was the group’s 11th sold-out show since the local promotion started in 2023, and fans couldn’t stop talking about the last match and the night’s two championship battles at Hardywood Park Craft Brewery off Ownby Lane.
They’ve eagerly staked out standing room-only spots in the brewery’s backroom, where decorative beer barrels, brewing tanks and supplies line the walls.
Charles League, a fan, said the passion that pushes wrestlers to put their bodies on the line is unmatched. It also makes packing into a warm room worth it.
“I mean these guys are out here, they’re doing something harder than what we’re doing, so we can cheer for a little bit,” League said.
It’s that shared commitment and the connection between wrestlers and fans that has driven the growth of the local pro wrestling scene and helped create a uniquely Richmond experience.
“The crowd is this almost additional character to the show,” said Stephen Brown, another local fan.
‘Lose yourself in it’
One of the architects of RVA Pro Wrestling is Timmy Danger — aka Tim Stewart, the group’s co-CEO, when he’s not wrestling.
As a child, he watched World Wrestling Federation events with his uncle and grandparents.
He said seeing the fourth wall between the wrestlers and fans being broken is what drew him in. The interactions — between performer and the crowd, each feeding off each other — underscored the fans’ importance to wrestling, for Danger.
“If the crowd is really invested in something, you’ve got to keep it going. If the crowd doesn’’t like it, you’ve got to end it,” Danger said.
“There’s really nothing like it in that regard. And you have to know how to take that momentum and use it.”
Danger, who trained at the storied Ohio Valley Wrestling school in Louisville, has come a long way. He’s wrestled in makeshift rings in people’s backyards and traveled hours to different states for shows with plans that completely changed once he arrived.
RVA Pro wrestlers have detailed backstories, unique costumes and catchphrases that ignite memorable chants from local fans — who add spur-of-the-moment chants like “This is awesome!” and “RVA!”
Among the fan favorites is Emma Kelsey, who wrestles under the moniker Erica Leigh, and Nicholas Throckmorton, better known as Sledge Gibson.
Leigh stares into the crowd when she enters the ring, eyes wide with bold intensity, pink strands in her hair as she holds her hands up like claws.
On this night, she faced off against Jordan Blade — another local favorite — for the women’s championship belt: the night’s co-main event.
Leigh didn’t grow up a pro wrestling fan. Sitting beside Danger, she said initially she thought it was something the “weird kids” liked. But then she watched it as an adult with an open mind.
“At that moment, it all clicked for me. I heard Jerry Lawler yelp on commentary, and I was like ‘Oh, it’s funny!’ And then from there I just couldn’t get enough and I was like ‘I think I can do that actually.’ I tried it, and I can do it,” Leigh said.
Ahead of fighting for the men’s heavyweight title against Drew Hood in the night’s other main event, Gibson reflected on what first got him into professional wrestling.
“I think it was WrestleMania 30, 31, one of those. It was Roman Reigns versus Brock Lesnar. For whatever reason, my brain said that would be very fun to do,” Gibson said while setting up his merchandise.
“Then I found a wrestling school and got myself some training, and here I am almost nine years later still doing these shenanigans.”
Sledge Gibson towers over most people, entering the ring with a babyface smile as the crowd chants “Clap them cheeks” — a call for his signature move — which I’ll leave to your imagination.
For all three, the love that makes them jump into a wrestling ring while costumed in front of a crowd and launching from the top rope isn’t easy to explain.
It hurts, but Leigh said there’s nothing like it.
“You might wake up real crunchy the next day, but there’s just something about it that’s so much fun,” Leigh said.
For Gibson, pro wrestling offers him freedom to express himself through characters and storytelling.
“It’s just a feeling that nothing else matches,” he said. “For however many hours the show is, you can just turn off and be somebody else and that’s pretty cool.”
For fans like Brown, it provides a similar escape.
“You kind of lose yourself in it, where you go in and as an adult watching wrestling you can just believe that it’s real just as you would believe what’s going on any TV show is actually happening,” Brown said.
The ring of connection
How wrestlers and fans interact is truly unique. They get up close and heckle each other — arguing mid-match, cursing in each other’s faces. Leigh said pro wrestling relies on that bond.
“The connection between wrestlers and the crowd is the whole thing,” she said. “That’s wrestling.”
This link is felt by local fans like League.
“I think the biggest thing is that you are part of it as a fan,” he said. “You get to cheer. You get to boo. And they need that energy for the show to work.”
When the crowd isn’t feeling what they’re doing, it can be tough — and awkward.
But Danger and Leigh said failing is a part of pro wrestling. Without a leap of faith, Leigh said, you won’t know what works and the joy of finally realizing it in front of a crowd.
“If you never go out there and feel that chest-sinking pressure of no reaction, you won’t know how to get yourself over, which is basically saying you won’t make people like you,” she said.
“Failure’s a good thing,” Danger said. “You’re supposed to fail, cause now you know what not to do.”
After experiencing failure, doing shows in front of seven people, and traveling to other states to wrestle, Danger started RVA Pro Wrestling with his business partner Neil Sharkey.
Danger said he was confident there were pro wrestling fans in Richmond waiting for a local promotion.
But he focused on drawing a larger audience by hosting events at local spots — including The Diamond — and adding live musicians. Now, RVA Pro has a production team, interns and just worked with the City of Richmond on a free show at Dogwood Dell.
“I wanted to do something I knew people would gravitate towards and they would gravitate more towards a party than ‘We’re having wrestling at the armory,’ especially in Richmond,” Danger said.
Elliot Jaspen, who goes by EJ, is a lifelong wrestling fan who runs the unofficial RVA Pro Wrestling podcast, a fan page on Facebook that includes interviews with favorite wrestlers.
“I like the compelling storylines, the competition and, most importantly, the way RVA Pro and their crowd gel together to make these nights fun,” he said ahead of the latest Hardywood show.
EJ said RVA Pro and its fanbase have shown there is a hunger for pro wrestling in Richmond.
“The subculture also of wrestling in a brewery is so Richmond,” he said. “I mean, that is classic RVA right there.”
With sold-out shows, the Richmond area has seen a recent professional wrestling boom, with smackdowns hosted by promotions such as RVA Pro and Commonwealth Championship Wrestling.
“I want the wrestlers to know I’m there. I want them to hear me,” League said. “I want them to know they are doing it for the love of the game, and I want to show my appreciation because that’s what they’re looking for.”
Where Richmond’s wrestling scene goes from here will ultimately depend on how the fans respond, Danger said, but he imagines it can be one of the bigger independent promotions in the country.
Danger and Leigh noted RVA Pro’s party atmosphere, but also how it embraces its mix of personalities and spotlights women wrestlers and matches instead of propping up stereotypes.
Leigh said wrestling has always had a diverse fanbase, despite the past reliance of certain tropes in storytelling, and the crowd she sees in Richmond proves that.
“There’s some little bubble of passion and joy and energy and I don’t know, it’s very, very different than going somewhere else and doing a job for somebody and coming home,” Leigh said.
“This feels like our thing, Richmond’s thing.”