Behind a red and gold speckled wrestling mask, two tired eyes begin to cry. “What is hidden beneath this mask?” Sergio Gutiérrez Benítez says, as his tears slip beneath the costume’s vibrant skin. “The face of a priest who wanted to do good.”
Three years after being ordained in 1973, Gutiérrez secretly turned to lucha libre wrestling to raise money for impoverished children in his home in Texcoco, Mexico. This uniquely Mexican style of wrestling is famed for its colourful masks and acrobatic, aerial moves.
For four decades, he body-slammed and power-bombed his way through tournaments under the name of Fray Tormenta, or Brother Storm. He kept his identity a secret for ten years before eventually revealing to the world that he was indeed a man of the cloth. His story partly inspired the 2006 Jack Black film Nacho Libre.
Gutiérrez in his Nineties heyday REX Jack Black in Nacho Libre (2006) PARAMOUNT PICTURES While the winnings started small, Gutiérrez estimates he made about 1.5 million pesos (£57,000), which went towards feeding and educating 2,500 young people. It was a remarkable outcome for someone who made an unlikely priest. “I don’t think it’s a secret to anyone that I was a drug addict and alcoholic. Well, still an alcoholic. Because what do I celebrate with?” Gutiérrez added: “When I die, God is going to tell me, ‘As a priest I don’t think you behaved very well. But because I had so many children that I raised, I’ll give you a chance. You can pass through.’” The walls of Sergio Gutiérrez Benítez’s house reflect his illustrious career but he may soon be moving because he struggles with the stairs ALICIA VERA FOR THE SUNDAY TIMES At 79, Gutiérrez’s days in the ring are long behind him, but a new fight looms. Eight months ago he began losing his eyesight. Combined with heart, prostate and kidney problems, his medical bills are stacking up. “I’m fighting to survive,” he said. Now help is coming from an unlikely source: a fundraising campaign inspired by a TikTok video. Andrea Sánchez, 25, discovered Gutiérrez’s double life while scrolling through social media and saw that the inspiration for Nacho Libre was suffering. “Honestly, I thought of my own grandpa and I was like, ‘It’s really unfair’,” she said. “I just wanted to give something back so that he can live comfortably.” Sánchez, from the city of Puebla, outside Mexico City, was hoping to find somewhere to donate. Fans on the official Fray Tormenta Facebook page expressed a desire to do the same, so she set up a GoFundMe campaign for the luchador to use as he wishes. After a slow start, the fundraiser has clocked up more than 100,000 pesos [£3,880], which is about 400 times the daily minimum wage in Mexico. “I don’t know the context or the income of everyone that donated, but for me, it’s really significant,” said Sánchez. “And 100 pesos here in this economy is a really big help.” About 120 people have donated so far. Peso by peso, the fund has been helping to pay for Gutiérrez’s healthcare, but could soon be put towards building a new house, because he has trouble climbing the stairs. He now lives with and is being cared for by Crispín Bautista Alvalle, his protégé and heir to the Fray Tormenta mask. Bautista is living proof of Gutiérrez’s goodwill: from the age of 13 he lived in the orphanage funded by Fray Tormenta’s winnings. They see each other as family. ALICIA VERA FOR THE SUNDAY TIMES “More than anything, the father wants the good name of Fray Tormenta to have someone who will really take care of it and won’t misuse it,” said Bautista. “He gave his entire life to support young people. We are going to return what he gave us.” Gutiérrez still accompanies Bautista around the world and cheers him on from the sidelines of his fights. Gutiérrez kept the prizes he won as Fray Tormenta but donated his winnings to orphanages that fed and schooled 2,500 children ALICIA VERA FOR THE SUNDAY TIMES Lucha libre, which traces its roots back to 1863, took shape with the foundation of the Mexican Wrestling Organisation in 1933. Television later boosted its popularity, with audiences tuning in to watch stars such as El Santo (the Saint), Ángel Blanco (White Angel) and Demonio Azul (Blue Demon). Today the sport remains popular, and the biggest events draw crowds of nearly 50,000. One of the leading promoters, Lucha Libre AAA, had an estimated revenue of $24 million last year. Home to some of the biggest arenas, Mexico City has declared lucha libre an intangible cultural heritage. Though he hung up his mask for the last time in 2011, Gutiérrez still dons it on occasion. “The mask is a kind of magic. It transforms you,” he said. As he removes it one more time, he wipes away tears and returns to musing on death. “I am very optimistic at whatever time God wants. I already have my suitcase ready. At the moment you want, take me. But I warn you that I’m not in a hurry.”Advertisement
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