If it’s a weekend night, you can be sure that Darby Allin is working somewhere.
Usually booked in the middle of the card, Allin has quickly made a name for himself on the independent wrestling scene, mainly thanks to a no-fucks-given approach to giving the people what they want while staying true to himself, even if it means risking life and limb.
So much so that friends and colleagues sometimes check in on him after his match.
To make sure he isn’t dead.
Putting his own well-being on the line is nothing new for Allin. Growing up in Washington State, he was obsessed with skateboarding as a teenager, and there’s video footage that proves it wasn’t just kids messing around at the local mall.
“The Roof of Doom! It was a buddy of mine’s house that he lived at, and we would all attempt to drop in on his roof every week and see whoever could make it first. But nobody ever made it. That’s why it’s called ‘The Roof of Doom’,” said Allin. “We would film it for MTV… The whole point of the Roof of Doom was strictly for MTV.”
While the footage never made it to air, Allin carries scars from those days that prove he lived with little regard for his own body.
Looking for a change, he moved to Tempe, Arizona with no real plan beyond wanting to skate somewhere warm.
“In my first week of living there I broke my ankle skateboarding and walked five miles home… I didn’t even know it was broken,” said Allin. “I ended up sitting on my skateboard, wheeling myself home, because I had no car.”
He picked up a 9-to-5 job at a dollar store. It came with perks, just not useful ones.
“They were going to throw away a thousand hot dogs and we took them, filled up my bathtub with them and took a bath in the hot dogs,” said Allin, who filmed it hoping to land on MTV. “I had to fly to Los Angeles that night, so I had no time to clean up the hot dogs.”
That trip to Los Angeles wasn’t for skating. It was for a reality TV appearance on Sex Sent Me to the ER, based on a completely fabricated story.
“I was broke and I came up with a fake story… They flew me down there and gave me $500,” said Allin. The story involved a romantic encounter interrupted by a swarm of bees. “It was stupid, but it was fun.”
Acting wasn’t the goal.
“That was a once off. I’ve always been into entertainment… but I was always more into working behind the camera.”
Eventually, the lifestyle caught up to him.
“I was living off like $5 a week of food in Arizona and I was 115 pounds… I was like, ‘I need to change this way of living.’”
He moved back to Seattle and got into wrestling.
“From the first day of training I was dead serious… I didn’t want to go back to that life.”
That commitment meant giving up skateboarding entirely.
“I couldn’t afford to wrestle and skate at the same time… I had to quit skating and focus on wrestling.”
It also meant sacrificing stability. He ended up living in an abandoned warehouse in downtown Seattle.
“I chose not to spend any money on rent… I was going to be 100% into wrestling.”
Two months after starting training, he had his first match.
“It could have been in a K-Mart. I didn’t care.”
He got paid in a Subway gift card.
Despite early opportunities, Allin felt stuck in the Pacific Northwest.
“I never want to be the big fish in a tiny pond. Throw me to the wolves and I’ll survive.”
He drove to Florida, then made his way to Dallas for WrestleMania weekend and an EVOLVE seminar.
“I came out of nowhere… I’d only had like 40 matches.”
That seminar changed everything. He impressed Gabe Sapolsky, earning a contract with EVOLVE.
“I’ve learned a lot about not changing who I am… you don’t have to act fake.”
Since debuting, Allin has worked with talents like Ethan Page, Tony Nese, Drew Gulak, and TJ Perkins.
But he stays grounded.
“If there’s bigger things coming, let it happen… I’m not going to sit here every day stressing about it.”
One of his most viral moments came in 2016 when he was thrown into a steel structure by Ethan Page, leaving him sprawled on the floor in a clip that spread across wrestling fans online.
Now living in Orlando with Sami Callahan, Allin reflects on his journey simply.
“A highlight is not dying… not being long-term injured,” he said, half-joking. “But really, being accepted for who you are.”
Because for Allin, the persona isn’t an act.
“It’s not really a character. I’m just myself… everything I do is what I want to do inside my soul. It’s not forced.”
And that authenticity, forged through broken bones, bad jobs, and abandoned warehouses, is exactly what makes Darby Allin impossible to ignore.
This article originally appeared on Enzuigiri.com on March 1, 2017.