SINGAPORE — “No more GST! No more GST!”

Far from being the war cry of the Occupy movement, this was the crowd rising in unison to call for the demise of something very different: The Greatest Singapore Team, a local wrestling tag-team. Emotions rose and victorious grins spread across the faces of said tag team — and that was the moment I was transported to the world of pro-wrestling in Singapore.

Watching wrestling on television was always a highlight when I was growing up, the violence enticing me like some forbidden fruit. My grandmother would catch me attempting moves I’d caught on TV on my friends. “What are you doing to poor Kenny?” she would tut-tut.

(I would later find out that my wife did the same to her brother, which might explain some things.)

So there I was, ringside at Breakthrough, Singapore Pro Wrestling’s (SPW) first full-card event. It was held on the opening day of the new English Premiership season — potential death for any event that depends on a majority red-blooded male crowd. Yet Kampong Ubi Community Centre was filled to maximum capacity of slightly over 200 people — a number that would have been greater if not for the venue’s crowd size restrictions.

Despite knowing that pro-wrestling is (spoiler alert) choreographed and that the results are planned beforehand — resulting in many not considering it a sport, or “sports entertainment” at best — all of that was forgotten the moment the lights went down and the first entrance music played.

Heroes and villains took the stage fighting for what seemed at times to be for their very lives, each grimace magnified by my proximity to the action. For the wrestlers in the ring, this too had become something very real: Perspiration splashed from their chests as they slammed into each other while the spotlights intensified the heat.

The mat would soon be slick with sweat — resting my elbows on the mat for a photograph would be a decision I quickly regretted. As the night wore on, taking a deep breath meant you could smell all too well what these wrestlers were cooking.

Bodies were battered — one twisted ankle was the price the night asked for, while many escaped with just bruises, or perhaps a stitch from all the excitement Not to say it isn’t dangerous — even SPW founder “The Statement” Andruew Tang injured his shoulder mere weeks before the event.

Watching the action up close also ensured that any argument that this wasn’t a sport was muted, mostly by the sheer physicality of it all. From powerbombs to half-nelson slams, and from half-Boston crabs to kneebusters, these wrestlers showed us what months of training had taught them with just a handful of misplaced moves. It wasn’t perfect, but even Tang has been at this for less than two years under the tutelage of Russian trainer Vadim Koryagin.

THE ‘ENTERTAINMENT’ IN ‘SPORTS ENTERTAINMENT’

The crowd lapped up the theatrics, even the uncles who were walk-ins, whipping out their handphones to film the spectacle before them. From The Statement’s cockiness and taunts, to the Greatest Singapore Team — consisting of Greg Glorious (Gregory Ho) and Dave Vindictus (Davin Tan) — “ambushing” a fatigued Eurasian Dragon (Kenneth Thexeira) because ... well, just because.

As muscle hit muscle (and in some cases, fat) and as bodies hit the mat, the friends and family members that made up most of the crowd continued to cheer. Moms shrieked and averted their eyes when their sons got hit. Chants broke out — some made up on the spot, others fresh off the local football field, mostly directed at the referee as he missed another three-count. The crowd gasped when it looked as if the only female wrestler of the night, Alexis Lee (Lee Xin Yi) looked as if she might lose her balance while on the top-rope, but she gathered herself to bodysplash the other three men in her match to win it.

Not that she needed that much encouragement: Her pre-teen niece in the crowd shouted “Hit harder!” throughout the tournament. This was family-friendly fun at its violent best.

Despite all the enthusiasm, it’s hard to say what sort of legacy names like The Statement, The Arsenal and, well, GST will leave. Becoming household names like Hulk Hogan and The Rock might seem like a stretch for now, but for many moving from head-locking a friend in the backyard to stepping into the ring for the first time in front of a live audience is the culmination of a childhood dream come true.

From the ring announcer remarking that he was using a wireless microphone for the first time, to the wrestlers’ obvious awe at wrestling under spotlights (“It’s just like the WWE!” said one after the event), this simple two-hour event felt more significant than it really was, in the grand scheme of things. And I, for one, was almost tempted to jump into the squared circle to give it a go and relive my good old primary school days.

Other than football, wrestling was the other show my father and I would sit down and watch together when I was little — he’d make sure to display mock shock at the violence, but would always stick around to the end. He was also the one who told me wrestling wasn’t real, which had the same impact as discovering that Santa Claus wasn’t real.

But after watching our local wrestlers duke it out up close, I'd rather have it larger than life.