Between the ropes: How Deep South Wrestling is guarding Atlanta's spirit, one body slam at a time
Before the lights, the ring, and the roar of the crowd, wrestling in Atlanta was about community.
It brought people together when almost nothing else did. Today, Deep South Wrestling is carrying that same legacy forward by inviting everyone in.
A legacy in motion
The crowd erupts as the bell rings. Kids yell, fans cheer, and the energy swells with every body slam. But beneath the theatrics, the stories inside the ring are deeply personal.
For wrestler Stunt Marshall, the squared circle is an escape.
"When I was a kid, I was overweight. Wasn't the cool kid at all," he said. "But when you put on a set of gear… You become another person."
His love for wrestling started with his grandmother, a lifelong fan who believed every punch was real.
"I'm pretty sure if they got too close, she'd clock one of them with her cane," Marshall said.
Now, Marshall channels that same passion—fighting to give fans the same joy his grandmother once found.
Free for all—literally
Marty Buccafusco, Deep South Wrestling's manager, said that the spirit of accessibility drives their mission.
"We had this idea that if we put a wrestling ring out in public, people would stop, stare, stay, and have fun," he said. "Turns out all those things happened."
There are no tickets, no gates, and no price tags.
"You don't have to pay anything, Grandma!" Marshall joked.
For fans like Waheed Khoshrabi and his son Ezra, the free shows are a bridge across generations.
"It's nice that you don't have to buy tickets or pay in advance," Waheed said.
"This isn't a commercial!" Ezra interrupts, grinning. He said he loves the punishment he sees during the shows.
Buccafusco says that Atlanta's wrestling history is why he wants to keep events free.
"One athletic performance in the city that was never segregated: That's professional wrestling," he said.
Breaking barriers and glass ceilings
That inclusivity stretches to the ring itself, where female wrestlers are front and center.
Wrestler Audrey Allen, who served in the military before joining Deep South Wrestling, brings strength and sparkle in equal measure.
"It might be choreographed… but fake? It's not," she said.
She found wrestling after deciding she didn't belong in a cubicle.
"I didn't have a super cool, strong girl to look up to who also wore glitter," she said. "Now I get to be that for somebody."
Allen is in the ring, hoping to snatch the women's belt from the current champ.
"I feel like I'm set up for a really good underdog story," she said.
The ring that unites
In a city often divided by sports loyalties, wrestling continues to unite Atlanta—no scripts, no charge, and no holds barred.
Deep South Wrestling holds free community shows every month. You can find the full schedule on the organization's website.