“the thing I came for:

the wreck and not the story of the wreck

the thing itself and not the myth”

-“Diving into the Wreck” by Adrienne Rich

In the early morning hours of Easter Sunday, as much of Mexico prepared to celebrate the resurrection, one of lucha libre’s most revered figures quietly departed. Esteban Mares Castañeda, better known to generations of wrestling fans as Black Terry, died of cardiac arrest at age 72. 

That sentence, outside of breaking my heart, feels impossible to write. Black Terry wasn’t supposed to die. He was supposed to keep going forever, keep brawling in gravel parking lots in his 80s, still outclassing guys less than half his age in junkyards and grimy gyms with half lit rings. Remarkably, and devastatingly, he was scheduled to fly to Japan next week to wrestle, just another chapter in a career that had already spanned over five decades and several transformations.

Born in Guadalajara in 1952, Mares came to professional wrestling relatively late by luchador standards, making his debut at 21 after being “trapped,” as he would later describe it, by the spectacle of lucha legends like El Santo and Huracán Ramírez. This late start seems inconsequential now in the face of a career that would stretch across multiple generations, promotions, and several seismic shifts in the Mexican wrestling landscape.

Black Terry’s journey through lucha libre reads like a timeline of the sport itself. He began in the traditional lightweight division, establishing himself first as the masked “La Gacela” before losing his mask to El Signo in 1977. The unmasked Black Terry would emerge as one of Mexico’s premier rudos, bringing technical precision, legitimate toughness, and a raw masculinity to his performances. 

The 1980s saw Terry reach prominence in the Universal Wrestling Association as part of Los Temerarios, alongside Jose Luis Feliciano and Shu El Guerrero. This fearsome trio exemplified the visceral, hard-hitting style that defined the era’s best trios action, a style and format that remains central to lucha libre.

Making the move to CMLL, Terry reinvented himself as the masked Guerrero Maya, he formed Los Guerreros del Futuro. This ability to shed identities and assume new ones while maintaining his essential qualities is what allowed Terry to remain relevant across five decades.

By the 2000s, Terry had settled into what would become his most enduring role, that of master trainer and elder statesman at the International Wrestling Revolution Group. At IWRG’s Arena Naucalpan, a small venue that became a staging ground for some of the best lucha libre of the last 25 years, Terry molded a generation of wrestlers, including his own son, who would compete as Multifacético and later Guerrero Maya Jr.

What distinguishes Black Terry from many wrestling veterans, however, was his refusal to recede peacefully into the background. Instead of relying on nostalgia matches against his aging contemporaries, Terry remained an active competitor well into his seventies, regularly facing, and often outperforming, wrestlers young enough to be his grandchildren. 

This late-career renaissance coincided with technological changes that would provide Terry with the wider recognition his talent deserved. As independent lucha libre found new audiences through YouTube and private download links in the 2010s, Terry’s performances, meticulously documented by his son, Black Terry Jr., reached viewers worldwide. For many international fans, the discovery of this maestro level grappling, brawling, and bleeding in dingy gymnasiums across Mexico was revelatory.

Emailing Black Terry Jr. and figuring out how many matches I could afford, but making sure to prioritize Black Terry matches, was a personal highlight of my fandom. 

Watching those matches and reading Phi, Eric, and Tom’s breakdown of said matches on Segunda Caida took my appreciation of wrestling to another level. Segunda Caida’s “Complete and Accurate Black Terry” is essential reading for any wrestling fan. 

To understand Terry’s significance requires understanding lucha libre itself, not merely as Mexico’s version of professional wrestling but as a distinct cultural practice with its own values. In American wrestling, age can relegate performers to nostalgia acts or managerial roles. In lucha libre, particularly in its more traditional incarnations, experience carries a different weight. The veteran luchador earns respect not just for past glories but for accumulated wisdom. If a history of tough physical matches bestows wisdom, it’s no wonder Black Terry was such an accomplished teacher and trainer. 

Terry embodied tradition while simultaneously pushing boundaries. He was both a guardian of lucha libre’s classic techniques and a figure willing to engage with modern styles. His matches against younger opponents like Aeroboy or Wotan represented not just intergenerational contests but conversations between different philosophies of wrestling, between the psychology-driven approach of traditional lucha and the more spectacular, modern deathmatch style that has emerged in recent decades.

Speaking to Terrys willingness to embrace and value modern styles of wrestling, he apparently was a PWG fan. Rob Viper shared a story of going over to his house with several others and showing him a PWG tape. Unlike most veterans he didn’t scoff and the high spot driven match. He was in awe of the athleticism and ultimately appreciated that the style was over with the fans. 

The blood that so frequently adorned Terry’s face in his brawls was not gratuitous but rather a beautiful part of wrestling’s language of physical storytelling. His willingness to bleed, to make physical sacrifice, connected him to his fans at a deeper level. 

What made Terry exceptional, was his ability to distill wrestling to its essence, to create authenticity in the moment. In an era where wrestling often strains for relevance through elaborate production, contrived spots, or over the top storytelling, Terry offered something more primal: the pure physicality of two bodies in combat, each movement carrying meaning, each exchange weighted with purpose and a raw realness. 

If more of his early career had been captured, if we had all those missing matches from the 80s and the 90s, I don’t think there would even be a debate. He’d be widely accepted as the GOAT. But even with what footage is available, the case is strong. Look at the Wotan match from 2016, a violent epic soaked in blood and hatred. Take the 2014 mat battle with Hechicero, a dream matchup of two generational masters. Look at the brawl with Chico Che. Theres the apuestas match with Aero Boy in a half-lit gym. I easily had him as my #1 in the VP2010s. The ignorant listeners of Violent People Radio not finding him worthy of the Violent People Hall of Fame is legitimately the low point of this website. It keeps me up at nights 

In the end, perhaps the most telling detail about Black Terry is that at 72, he wasn’t looking backward, but forward. He had wrestled as recently as last month and was looking forward to next week’s matches in Japan, to the next opportunity to step between the ropes. 

For half a century, Esteban Mares Castañeda lived wrestling in its most complete sense. In doing so, he became not just a practitioner of lucha libre but its living embodiment, a man who understood that beyond the masks, beyond the spectacle, beyond the myths, lies the thing itself. 

My prayers go to his family, especially Black Terry Jr., who preserved his father’s work with unmatched devotion, and made it possible for the rest of us to bear witness. Without him, much of this legacy would be scattered memories. Because of him, we have proof it was all more than a myth. 

It was a thing. 

A beautiful, violent thing. 

---

This site somehow has young people visit it, so I’m going to link to Black Terry matches on YouTube in case people haven’t seen them. All three from when the man was over 65 and was still the best in the world.

Though, I will once again pimp Segunda Caida’s “Complete and Accurate Black Terry” for a more complete list of matches to check out. I feel inadequate standing on ground they so thoroughly covered.

Black Terry vs. Mr. Condor – 12/05/21

This is quite possible the quintessential old man Black Terry fight. They’re a combined 133 years old. Condor and Terry attack each other with a fury and ferocity that is difficult to describe if you’ve never seen it.

Black Terry vs. Demus – 06/24/17

Black Terry has son who’s a wrestlers and a legion of luchadors he’s trained and in a lot of ways Demus is the closest thing we have to another Terry. This is super minimalistic, barbaric and is impossible to watch without a smile on your face.

Black Terry and Negro Navarro vs. Hechicero and Virus – 03/26/17

Black Terry getting a chance to show off on the mat with three all time great technicians. Lots of great mat work between Terry and Hechicero, before Hechicero was one of the biggest stars in lucha.