'Old Man Wrestling' Craze Sweeps Nation
By Sarah Cleverlydun
Take a trip to your local village hall, park, or function room and you just might come across a group of chalked-up old men stripped down to their vests. This is no afternoon social, no boules and Battenberg. These lot have swapped the bingo cards and chess clocks for something else entirely: a good, old-fashioned bit of rough and tumble.
In recent months, the sport known to fans as ‘Old Man Wrestling’ has taken the country by storm. What began as a harmless afternoon pastime has grown into a full-fledged movement, complete with regional tournaments, home-grown stars, and sold-out merchandise. Popular t-shirt slogans include NINETY-ONE – NIL; ONE FOOT IN THE GRAVE, ONE IN THE RING; and IF FOUND UNCONSCIOUS, COUNT TO 10 AND ASSUME VICTORY – all currently unavailable on major platforms due to overwhelming demand.
The old man wrestling origin story can be traced back to Chestnut Lodge Care Home in Sussex, where the first official matches took place. The scheme was initiated by disgruntled carer Patty Caike, who began orchestrating fights out of frustration with the home’s “general atmosphere of decline”.
“At first I just wanted them to stop ringing that bell,” Caike explained, cigarette in hand. “And when things kicked off, that’s all it did – it kept them entertained for a while. But it was good, clean fun. A couple of armchairs got scuffed up but it was nothing that couldn’t be smoothed over. But then something changed. The residents started getting up early for breakfast. Randy, who used to only take a spoonful of cereal, started eating 5 eggs a morning. And then, about two weeks into our regionals, I saw Alan, who hasn’t moved since the Diamond Jubilee, elbow himself off the recliner and lunge at Roger Patterford with the enthusiasm of a schoolboy.”
The sport’s stars also maintain its health benefits. To find out more, we met reigning national champion Giorgio ‘Aging Bull’ Yannisopoulos, a 91-year-old former barber from Smethwick, at a wrestling meet in an outdoor leisure centre.
“It’s not about teaching old dogs new tricks,” Giorgio told us, sipping beef stock from a thermos. “We’re bringing old men back to their roots. In some cultures, the elderly are revered for their wisdom. They gather round the fire, tell stories. We say: bollocks – come see us fight. Wrestling is primal. It’s instinct. We’re giving these men second wind.”
Yannisopoulos is leading the campaign to have Old Man Wrestling recognised as an official sporting league. The road to Olympic legitimacy is long, but Giorgio is confident. “Columbia isn’t ready for this kind of juice in 2028,” he said. “So we’ve readjusted the dial – we’re targeting Japan 2032.” We asked Giorgio how they plan to drum up interest. “We see TV as an exciting opportunity to get the word out. We’ve been in productive conversations with some Japanese broadcasters, and our next steps are to round up the fattest old men we can find in hopes of launching a sumo division.”
Yannisopoulos’ daughter, Katerina, also offered her support. “If he’s keeping fit, there’s no reason why he shouldn’t be on that plane to Japan. At the end of the day, I’d rather he was doing this than getting mixed up with a bad crowd, getting himself into trouble.”
Some, however, have been taking things too far. We spoke to Rigg Doberman, founder of the British League of Elder Grapplers (BLEG), who has been forced to issue an “Absolutely Do Not Do This” card after a series of concerning incidents.
“There’s a difference between a spirited scuffle and what Dennis Clunch did to poor Malcolm,” Doberman told us, shaking his head. “No one should be put through a garden table at that age.”
Public concern around the safety of the sport has been growing, and health experts remain sceptical. Dr. Sarah Hoof, a geriatrician at St Thomas’ Hospital, gave a cautious response when shown footage of a recent tag-team event in Leeds.
“What? Sorry? They’re ninety? There’s no way you can do that. Sorry but there’s absolutely no fucking way that you should be doing that,” she said, visibly distressed.
It’s clear that public opinion is divided, but whether ‘old man wrestling’ is medicine or madness, one thing is certain: Britain’s old men aren’t going down without a fight.