Many people have a very negative view of professional wrestling. It’s fake, it promotes violence, it’s immoral, it’s degrading, it’s childish, whatever.

I just wish that some of those people could have been at the Mercury Entertainment Center in Hampton on Sunday evening.

Last summer, Newport News resident Ellie Braddy, who’s been bumping around wrestling mats for the past few years, became the Vanguard Championship Wrestling (VCW) women’s champion. For the next few months, under the ring moniker of Kameo, Braddy defended the title at several shows across the state.

Then, just before last Halloween, Braddy felt a numbness in her left arm and hand. A week later, she couldn’t move her entire left side.

Eventually, the diagnosis was found; the 24-year-old had multiple sclerosis. After making it to the top of the local women’s wrestling world, she’d never be able to step between the ropes again, as future head trauma could cause seizures.

&uot;It was really stressful,&uot; she remembers. &uot;When you’re used to being active and you get something like this, it can be a real pain. You want to get in the ring and go, and you know that you can’t.&uot;

Over the next few months, Braddy stepped out of her wheelchair, got past a walker, and started using a cane to get around. But she couldn’t go to work (her &uot;real&uot; job was waiting tables), and lost her insurance and money for medicine. In February, VCW president Travis Bradshaw, a native Suffolkian, decided to put together a benefit show at the Center for one of his most reliable workers.

About an hour before the show began, Braddy stepped into the makeshift arena, and her mother Rachel helped her to the stage next to the ring.

&uot;At first, we were all in denial,&uot; says Rachel, a resident of Bell Haven, N.C. &uot;This couldn’t be happening to Ellie; she’s too young and vibrant. But she’s come a long way. She loved wrestling; it was her dream to be a wrestler.&uot;

A jar for donations, adorned with Braddy’s picture and story of her plight, was set up near the snack bar. Daniel Taraschke of Newport News was one fan to drop in a few greenbacks.

&uot;I’ve always been a big fan of hers,&uot; he says. &uot;She’s always put on a good show. When I heard that she’d come down with MS, I was heartbroken. Nobody deserves something like that.&uot;

More and more people came in as the show began. Over 100 people chose to spend their last few hours of Easter watching wrestling.

The program kicked off with a battle royal, with over a dozen brawlers in the ring at once. Then a tag team match and singles bout took place. All the while, Braddy watched from her ringside seat.

&uot;I hate this,&uot; she sadly tells me. &uot;I mean, I enjoy watching the other guys, but I want to be in there – bad.&uot;

Fortunately, she didn’t have time to think about that; I watched a steady stream of people come up to the guest of honor for photos and autographs.

It’s not just the fans who came to support her. Steve Gower, who wrestled for years as VCW’s Idol X, the promotion’s answer to hardcore legend Cactus Jack, hadn’t stepped into a VCW ring for two years. But standing near the dressing room watching his colleagues raise cash for someone who needed and deserved it, Gower remembers why he came back for one night.

&uot;I wanted to come show my support,&uot; says Gower, a resident of Norfolk. &uot;I didn’t know (Braddy) really well, but having that happen to someone so young made it hit close to home. It’s hard to even come up with the words, but it makes you realize that anything can happen. It’s hard watching her walk on the cane.&uot;

As the show winds down, Bradshaw asks several of his associates to help Braddy into the ring. People that had blasted each other with punches, kicks, slams and suplexes only minutes before walked from the dressing room, and crowded around her. Men that had spent the past few hours knocking the tar out of each other now stood united behind someone who had given her all to the sport, and had shown more guts than most of them would ever know.

As I pulled myself up onto the ring apron to take a few pictures, I realized that this was one of the bright moments in a business that so many like to look down upon. After the bell rang, these people tore into each other, battling until one of them couldn’t go on. But outside, there was respect. There was a bond that they share, a brotherhood in which they stood behind one another. They knew that all of them shared a dream to one day make it to the top of the wrestling world, and when one of them hit an obstacle, it was their job to help her past it.

And the fans understood it as well. They didn’t just see Kameo, the matster that they were supposed to boo or cheer, depending on what the storyline was that day. They cared about Ellie the person, the one who had to take on an opponent tougher than any she could ever face on the mat. And it meant so much that they would give up part of a religious holiday to show their concern for another. This showed how much wrestlers mean, to themselves, to each other, and to the people that sit and cheer for them.

In the most basic of terms, it was about people caring for people.

Bradshaw calls everyone together, and reads the total tally for the night – over $1,700. Then he addresses one of his favorite employees.

&uot;We’d be here all night if everyone could say what they felt,&uot; he tells Braddy. &uot;No matter what, one thing is for sure – you’ve always been there for me.&uot;

Two wrestlers lift Braddy onto their shoulders, and the crowd erupts into a standing ovation, leading into chants of &uot;Kameo! Kameo!&uot;

Fake? No way. This was all real. The love, the support that she was getting, the camaraderie shared by the wrestlers and the fans, the smiles broadening across children’s faces throughout the crowd, the tears of joy that started to stream down the face of Braddy and several others – all of this was real. And it was beautiful.

Bradshaw takes the microphone.

&uot;Vanguard Championship Wrestling needs a women’s champion,&uot; he says to Braddy, &uot;and we thought long and hard about who should get it. And then we realized that you are and always will be our champion. No one else comes close.&uot;

He hands the weeping Braddy the belt that she won and will never lose. Another wave of warm emotion sweeps through the crowd. More clapping, more cheering, more chanting. The Dionne Warwick-Stevie Wonder song, &uot;That’s What Friends Are For,&uot; starts to play.

Trying to focus my camera to get a few more shots, I saw that several grown men in the ring were wiping and covering their eyes. Some were comforting each other. Glancing through the crowd, I saw people of all ages sharing their grief and offering support.

Feeling something strange on my face, I reached up and brushed it. Then I realized that I’d soaked my hand with my own tears.

As the song ended, Braddy speaks to the crowd for the first time.

&uot;I don’t know what to say,&uot; she says, staring at the belt. &uot;I just want to thank you all very much. This way, even if I never wrestle again, I can still say that I’m a champion.&uot;

At that moment, no one was thinking about fake or real. It was time that epitomized everything that was good about humanity, and the love that people truly feel for one another. And it proved that sometimes the most maligned of businesses could bring us together like few other things can.

jason.norman@suffolknewsherald.com