'World's smallest extreme athlete' wants recognition for sport, not size

At 3 feet 6 inches, weighing 86 pounds, the self-proclaimed “world’s smallest extreme athlete”, 29-year-old Tony Elliott, is not offended when people call him a midget.

Instead of being offended by a term that to many people is politically incorrect, he is empowered by it.

Elliott is a wrestler from Gary who has made a name for himself since going pro at age 18, using the pseudonym “Teo” in the ring.

Among Elliott’s adventures, he has traveled to Australia, been on Pay-Per-View nearly 10 times and has had several injuries from the choreographed theatrics of professional wrestling.

He’s serious about his athleticism and hates it when people find midget wrestling a folly, “like it was in the ‘80s.”

But what upsets Elliott more than anything is when organizations such as Little People of America band against him for his life’s work.

“I am not gonna let a word define who I am,” he said. “Why does it bother you that it doesn’t bother me? I’m an individual, and I love what I do. I’m an athlete and an entertainer.”

To Elliott, protests from activist groups for little people are more belittling than if someone were to call him a midget.

“It’s like they’re saying that because I’m a dwarf I can’t or am unable to wrestle,” he added. “I’m just like everybody else in terms of what I can do.”

Mike’s Music & Dance Barn of Nashville, Ind., is one place that doesn’t seem to mind.

Owner Mike Robertson once worked in construction but said he wanted to build a place that would welcome people who enjoyed music and dancing as much as he did – Robertson has played tenor saxophone since eighth grade – while keeping in step with all the dressings of a family-friendly venue.

And so he drew plans on a napkin, bought a saw mill and the rest is history. The dance barn rests on Robertson’s family farm, and it is a place where people have fallen in love and sealed their marriage vows.

The outside of the venue seems intimidating as an isolated barn-shaped structure, but the inside is much more inviting – the aroma of charbroiled hamburgers with American cheese filled the air, as Christmas lights and multihued sombreros lined the walls to shape the decor of good, clean family fun.

Alongside all the nights of wedded bliss, line dancing and country music cover bands, Robertson said Friday night was one of the more unique ones with the turnout for midget wrestling.  

The charges collected from patrons at the door went to benefit Mother’s Cupboard Community Kitchen in Brown County.

16-year-old Nashville resident Kimberly Bogle, who has the current Miss Teen Indiana-World national title while attending Brown County High School, is a hostess at the dance barn, though she admitted she’d never seen anything quite like this.

“It’s crazy because there are people I see from school here, and you see them in a whole new light,” Bogle said as more spectators young and old milled about. “But, at the same time, the atmosphere’s a lot calmer than you’d think.”

In addition to the excited families surrounding the 18-by-18-foot former World Championship Wrestling training ring, which replaced the shiny hardwood dance floor, there were a number of interesting characters dashing around, signing autographs and taking pictures with kids as their delighted parents stood by.

All the characters present ranged from “Super Chicken” to an imitation Nacho Libre.

And IU sophomore Tyler Lucas considered himself one of them in his $10 neon-orange Terre Haute sweatshirt from Walgreens.

He came with his friends freshman Marc London and sophomore Tyler Tigges on a whim.

“There’s nothing else to do tonight, so we thought we’d watch them midgets go to town,” Lucas said. “I wanna see them do well. We’re all here for the midgets.”

A series of exhibition matches with average-sized people kicked things off, including “Jerry Springer” regulars and The Bump N Uglies from “Detroit, Mexico,” a troupe of men clad in black spandex and red arrow masks.

The crowd was filled with people who were die-hard wrestling fans.

Jeff Baushke came with his wife Joyce from a mile and half from Nashville. Wrestling may be generally considered a sport with a predominantly male following, but Joyce, Baushke said, was the reason he came to the dance barn.

He is, however, an avid fan himself, decked out in Lycra skeleton gloves and spray painted Christmas-colored hair. He has been watching wrestling since 1980 and has attended matches from World Wrestling Federation and matches on racetracks. He even came with neon poster board signs cheering on the competition.

But he said he does think it is important to acknowledge the legitimacy of midget wrestling, too, without resorting to exploitative measures.

“They work hard and have to make a living too,” Baushke said. “My friend Billy is small and he’s cool as hell. Sometimes I wish I was small.”

After a brief intermission, the main event between midget wrestlers Teo and 36-year-old Chris Guyre, under the pseudonym, P.O.D. (pissed-off dwarf) was ready to commence. Ace Craft, the matches’ commentator and promoter for event sponsor Sideshow Wrestling, had narrated through “Super Chicken” doing the chicken dance and a New York City clown named Doink who expressed his “loathing” for the audience.

But he was most excited about the main event because of all the work that went into it. Craft told the crowd that the event was 10 years in the making, as Teo and P.O.D. were competing for the “Dwarf World Title.”

Kid Rock’s “Bawitdaba” served as a pump-up soundtrack for the crowd, who leapt to their feet as Teo and P.O.D. entered the ring.  A group of girls flailed eagerly in front of an elderly couple.

“Will you girls sit down?” the woman yelled to them.

The starting whistle sounded and Teo and P.O.D. tangoed around the stage, laying a series of bone-crushing piledrivers and tackles on one another.

Teo was flung up against the ropes and dizzily sauntered around until he collapsed to the ground, down for the count as P.O.D. plotted his next move.

P.O.D. eventually passed out from exhaustion, but Teo was the true underdog, as children began pounding the ring where he lay nearly unconscious, throwing popcorn and screaming.

Teo came to and raised a fist in the air in response to his young admirers.
“1, 2, 3,” referee Jason Harding cried, striking the mat with an open fist, as Teo pinned P.O.D down, earning the Dwarf World Title.

“The best man won,” Guyre said later, adding that he felt Teo was his strongest competitor and that he planned to reclaim the title.

Smooth Country, featuring owner Robertson took the stage and played songs such as “Long Tall Texan” as the wrestling ring was torn down and people filed out to their cars in the empty lot.

A man in a chicken costume was one of the few who stayed behind.

As he did earlier, “Super Chicken” was being photographed with children who were reluctant to leave.

It meant a lot for him to be at the dance barn during the event – he was a sneeze away from paralysis after a severe back injury removed him from the wrestling ring nearly a year ago.

Super Chicken helps raise three children with his girlfriend, and the joy he gets from that translates well to his night shtick in costume.

“I want to put smiles on all these kids’ faces,” he said, stooping down to chat with a broad-smiling little girl in a pink shirt and pigtails. “Excuse me, everyone. This little girl wants to take a picture.”