I spent a lot of my youth in backyards and gravel parking lots, drinking and fighting with my friends for fun, running wild and getting my bell rung in mosh pits at punk shows. When I first stepped into a ring in 2017, I chose to play a character named Dan Liplock, who didn't embody any of these qualities. I was a clown. I wore the paint I felt would garner laughs. The paint burned my skin. While it brought attention from the wrestling world that I craved, it wasn't me.

In 2020, I reclaimed my last name and became Connelly. It would take time to earn the nickname of "Mad Dog," but I fought for it. I didn't expect the path it would take would be covered in blood and steel. I clawed and fought for my life and my place in this sport in the Jeffersonville Arena and beyond. I never thought I'd find it at the end of a chain.

I was introduced to the chain by a man I will never name. It came at a very opportune time. I used it to my advantage and let it become part of me. It was heavy. It was cold.

A Small Riot in Peoria, Illinois

I started a small riot at a show in Peoria, Illinois, in March 2024. I show up to the venue with no other intention other than to wrestle, collect a payday, and go home. I'm in town visiting a close friend and seeing his new home for the first time, and we head to the venue together. I'm booked for a triple threat match against two guys I didn't know much about. I was, however, warned about one of them.

Darnell Reed, also known as "Apocalypse," is a wrestler local to Peoria. He has family in the area and was originally told by the promoter that he would be winning that night. At some point, plans change and they now wanted me to hold their championship. I try to do the right thing and stand up for the booker to follow through with these plans, but after learning the original idea for Darnell winning, I let it go and tell him he can have it.

The promoter tells me he would make it up to me and that there would be a rematch. Darnell came up with an idea to set it up that night. I have no idea what I'm getting into by agreeing to it — I mostly just wanted to go home.

We get to the ring and I start immediately fighting Darnell. I lay him out with a punch and the other participant, Coal County Crusher, grabs my attention. After some scuffle, I charge into Crusher with a clothesline over the top rope that sends us both to the floor. More brawling ensues, and eventually, Crusher puts me into position for a powerbomb that no one saw coming (except for us). He sends me flying over the guardrail into the front row. I land on one of the fans and several members of security and referees come to check on me — one referee even threw up "the X" thinking that I was hurt badly.

I was fine. I just did not want to interact with Darnell that night. Once Crusher and Darnell come to the conclusion of the match, Darnell raises the title in his hand. As we initially agreed, I immediately rush over the guardrail and grab his manager from under the bottom rope.

I try to send him into the same guardrail, and he freezes. Nothing. I try again, and even worse, his mask comes off, making him even more pissed. I throw one forearm, and I know that something is off. He waves to someone behind me, and before I know it, a group of people jump over the rail and start to grab at me. Darnell himself had come from the ring to his manager's aid. He grabs me by the beard and swings his fist down, busting open my cheek.

I'm in complete shock, but I start laughing. I should have seen this all coming. All I've ever known was to work with what I had. This time, however, there was no cleaning up this mess. I get to the back and everyone's screaming, holding each other back. The cops show up and my loss of control makes it feel like the walls around me are being torn down. I feel myself dissociating, and I am left numb, thinking, "Am I going to jail because of something I did in a wrestling match? Something we had agreed upon?"

People finally get Darnell and his crew outside of the building and the police ask for my side of the story. I tell them, and they're equally as tired of this situation as I am. They arrest Darnell and his manager. I drive home tired, hungry, and anxious about what this could mean for my place in wrestling. A week later, I'm driving to New Jersey for a match that would change the trajectory of my career, and my life.

That Same Unpredictability

Years prior, as I'm establishing myself and my name, I saw wrestlers focus on their image and gear, everyone hitting the same handful of moves and hearing their ideas of choreographed sequences as I traveled the road. Everything felt the same, no matter where I went — there were so many people dying to get noticed that they just ended up fitting into the modern wrestler mold. I just wanted to fight. I learned to channel that feeling. As I began to come into my own, I finally had an outlet where I felt I could truly express and release that energy into the world.

The first Dog Collar Match I ever saw was Buzz Sawyer vs. Jim Duggan from December 27th, 1985, in Houston, Texas. I had studied Sawyer for his visceral and unforgiving nature. I looked up to Buzz and saw a lot of myself in him. The way he moved and lent himself to his primal instincts: Pummel and Maul. He was the "Mad Dog." I didn't care for his furry boots, but he and Duggan swung that chain and gave Houston a little over 10 minutes of blood and steel. When Buzz threw that chair over Duggan's head, they felt it, too.

Roddy Piper competed in 12 Dog Collar Matches, with the first two against Buzz. He famously competed against Greg Valentine at NWA's Starrcade in 1983 in Greensboro, North Carolina. Despite being a longer fight, it was still just as chaotic and brutal. Piper came into this match with an injured ear from their previous bout, and Valentine took advantage of it, bashing the chain against it. There was nowhere to run. The blood, pain, and agony on both men's faces grew until Valentine made his fatal mistake, leaving room for Piper to pull him down and tie him up for the pin.

I wanted to bring that same unpredictability and sense of danger to the world of professional wrestling.

The Before and After

With a chain in my hand, I had my first Dog Collar Match against Jordan Blade on September 25th, 2022, in Columbus, Ohio. I had no idea how restricting it would be or how much was completely out of my control. There are two bodies competing, but the chain is a completely separate entity of its own, and it's looking for a fight all the same.

I was taught later by Kerry Awful how to control that chain and use it more to my advantage, but I immediately felt right at home. Jordan fell victim to the chain like most do, as she lived her truth at the end of the chain, hanging from the top rope. Several staff members were needed to disconnect her from the chain and help her to the back. I made my mark as the new King of the Dog Collar.

Since then, I've had more than 30 Dog Collar Matches across 15 states and multiple countries. I have carried the burden from Mattoon, Illinois, to places like Oberhausen, Germany; San Francisco, California; and Asbury Park, New Jersey.

The weight of the chain alone has scared most opponents upon their first impression. When that cold steel swings up and smacks you across the face, it marks the before and after. So many times I have been asked, "Is this the chain we're using?” or "Do you have a lighter one?" Over the years, word spread throughout locker rooms that I was unsafe and dangerous. I was told no one would want to step in the ring with me if I were to continue on like this.

The Dog Collar Match is unforgiving, pure chaos. The chain has left scars all over my body and chipped so many of my teeth. I feel every ounce of pain, even though some say I don't.

I have had many opponents put on that collar, including Matt Tremont in New Jersey, and Amira in Portland. A couple of my favorites include matches with 1 Called Manders in St. Louis Anarchy, and Demus in the first ACTION DEAN~!!! event.

1 Called Manders

Manders is a former football player who made his professional wrestling debut only a year before I did. He began in Iowa, bordering where I started in Illinois. We had known each other since the beginning. I would see him at different shows where we would both be helping set up. He branched off before I did and started gaining exposure and notoriety.

It took a little longer to find myself. I started wrestling for a promotion called St. Louis Anarchy in Alton, Illinois in 2022, where he also competed. It was close to home and had a reputation for having hard-hitting and emotionally compelling matches that were hard to find anywhere else in the area.

On April 14th, 2023, Manders and I stood across the ring from each other for the first time in our careers. We did what we both knew: we fought. We punched, kicked, bit, threw each other all over Spaulding Hall, and at the end of it, I had him hanging by the neck across my back.

This match and that moment led to some of the most unforgettable times in my career. Shortly after, we were already planning for our next fight. This feud led to a Dog Collar Match for St. Louis Anarchy on January 26th, 2024.

There was a sense of pressure we both felt coming into this event. The two matches prior had received a significant amount of praise, so I knew we had to deliver with the Dog Collar. If we didn't, there may be nowhere else to go for us, especially for me.

“If Someone Hit Me Like That,
It'd Really Piss Me Off."

We get in the ring and put the collars on. Things start slow. I smile at him as I yank the chain to jerk his neck. I'm toying with him. I know he'll be coming for me, but I wanted to play with my food before I ate. I anticipate him taking the bait and charging me, so I dodge him and try to put a choke on early. He throws me off of him and heads to the floor, where he's comfortable brawling.

I keep pushing forward and meet him in his space. After all, with the chain attached, you can't go very far. We exchange blows and I feel every bit of it. We have always given each other everything we had, but once you feel the cold steel of the chain whipped across your back, it awakens something. We feel the excitement from the crowd growing around us as the fight continues. We leave no stone left unturned in this match. I drag Manders around the building, throwing him into the posts, and into the crowd. I wrap the chain around my fist and drive it straight into the top of his head, busting him open.

Something my father always tells me when I show him my matches is "Man, if someone hit me like that, it'd really piss me off." Manders and I take this feeling and use it for the entire match. We both make it back to the ring, and I'm in control, Manders bleeding profusely. I wrap the chain around his bloodied head and begin clawing at him, trying to open him up further. Manders fight back and it begins to get even dirtier. We're struggling for control. We're swinging, scratching, biting. Not only were we scratching and swinging, we were biting. We were struggling for control. I'm fighting for my life. I'm in disbelief as the room swirls around me.

I pull him into the corner and set up for a dropkick, but he sees it from a mile away. He counters, and eventually puts me on the top rope for an elevated powerslam. I struggle, falling to the floor out of desperation. I use the leverage from the top rope and the chain to choke and weaken him. Manders tries to pull me back up, but I swing that chain right back into his face.

He pulls me over the top rope with the chain and, now brandishing a spur from his cowboy boot, drives it deep into my head. I feel the warm blood trickle down my face and hear it drip to the canvas. On our feet again, we're on an equal ground, both landing punches with the chain wrapped around our fists. Manders rakes my eyes and hits his lariat.

On my back hearing the ref's count, I remember my father's words. I feel the anger rise and throw my shoulder up to escape. I grab one final gutwrench and send him over the top rope and to the outside. I pull back on the chain as hard as I can. If nothing would keep him down for 3 seconds, then this should keep him down for good. Manders loses consciousness, and the ref calls it. He comes to, climbs back in the ring, and raises my hand in victory. With spit and blood covering Manders' face, I made the cowboy live his truth at the end of the chain.

Somewhere In The Swamps of Jersey

My most infamous Dog Collar Match occurred against Demus El Demonio in Williamstown, New Jersey, during the first ACTION DEAN~!!! event on April 4th, 2024. It was my first time ever experiencing a Wrestlemania week and, most importantly, getting to participate. Now I'm making that drive to New Jersey after the Peoria riot.

I'm so grateful for this opportunity, but I put so much anxious pressure on myself knowing this match may be the most important fight in my career. I had just begun to step out of the Midwest and see what the world thought of my style. I had a Dog Collar Match in that same building in New Jersey two years prior against Max Zero in front of maybe 15 people, but this match and event were different.

I sat there for hours, waiting for the sound of the distorted guitar from my entrance music to play. I thought about everyone in that locker room: Daniel Makabe, Tom Lawlor, Jonathan Gresham, and Timothy Thatcher, just to name a few. I was among some of the best this sport had to offer, and now here I am, about to step out of my bubble and take my career by the horns. That squeal from the guitar began, and I told myself the same thing I tell myself most matches: "This is my moment. I am that motherfucker."

Following the Peoria riot, my face was already scarred, and I was on edge. Paranoia crept in about what could have been coming my way. I didn't know this guy. He was much more experienced than Darnell Reed, but the lingering fear of what could happen had me thinking about what I needed to do to protect myself. I am already a very anxious person, especially when I am in the ring, but now I had the traumatizing experience of a crowd jumping me in defense of my opponent.

Demus El Demonio is a luchador from Saltillo, Coahuila, Mexico who had been in the business for 20+ years at that point, participating in deathmatches in Mexico for ZONA 23, and around the Micro Wrestling circuit in the United States.

I was unfamiliar with him and didn't fully know what I was getting myself into. This was my first time wrestling someone whose first language wasn't English. That language barrier seemed to play a part in the match as we both had some miscommunications throughout the night. This tension, however, brought a real sense of danger to that match.

No Going Back

Walking out to the ring, I feel the broken glass remnants from previous nights and matches in the building crushed under my taped, bare feet. The crowd is electric, but walking out to the ring, I'm still unsure of myself. This crowd seems unfamiliar with me, so I need to create a lasting first impression.

The referee attempts to get the collar on Demus, but I swing that chain right into his mouth and catch him off guard. This is my introduction. Now this shit's real. After some struggle and a clothesline from me that sent him tumbling, I have control over the luchador. I wrap the chain around my fist and let him have it. I quickly draw first blood, and it begins pouring.

We give ourselves to the chain. The fight spills out into the crowd, and it begins to get even uglier. I send Demus running, and the momentum sends him into a fan, both of them falling to the floor. There is no going back.

I drag Demus around the outside of the ring and send him into the crowd once again, his blood now staining their clothes. I saw fear in the fans' eyes, which only seemed to fuel their excitement.

I feel the struggle of the fight, and the energy from the crowd means they're feeling it, too. Back in the ring, Demus rips the shirt off his back and wraps it around my neck. I feel completely powerless as the air escapes my body. He finally releases the choke, and as I catch my breath, he wraps it around one more time to drag me down for a pin.

I kick out, and he calls for a chair from a fan. As I'm trying to get back to my feet, I feel the chair crash against the back of my head. On the floor, I feel that familiar warmth and the rhythmic patter as my blood falls to the floor. I hear the booker, Matt Griffin, telling me to "get him back into the ring! " but it's becoming clear that Demus perhaps has other plans. Blood pours down my face as we exchange punches.

I make my way back into the ring, and luckily, he follows. He comes off the second rope with a crossbody and attempts a pin, but it wasn't enough. He puts on a choke with the chain and I power through the pain like I have so many times in the past.

I wrap that chain around my fist and wind it back. I throw a punch, aiming to break his jaw. He collapses and I jump on top of him like a wild animal. I try to put him on my back for the Hangman's Clutch, but the sweat and the blood makes it impossible for me to hold him. He slips out and tries for another pin, but I kick out quickly and wrap that chain around his neck on the ground and choke him until he fades. Demus El Demonio lived his truth at the end of the chain.

Burden/Gift

No one could have predicted what that match would mean for me and my career. I drove 14 hours to New Jersey on a whim. No promise of pay, no real plan. I left that weekend having shown the professional wrestling world that this sport is more than just a dance. It is struggle, and it is pain.

I spent more days on the road and in the air than I ever had before after that. Traveling from Illinois to places like North Carolina, California, New Jersey, and all the way to Germany, which had been a personal goal of mine since high school. A little over a year later, I find myself shaking hands with the likes of Tony Khan, Bryan Danielson, Hiroshi Tanahashi, Chris Hero, and more, hearing them tell me that they're excited to have me main event ACTION DEAN~!!! 2 in Phoenix, Arizona, in a Dog Collar Match against Adam Priest. The chain I received from that man all those years ago brought me closer to my dreams than I ever thought possible.

When I walked into the Pinfall Wrestling Academy in 2017, I had no idea the path I would walk. I just wanted to wrestle. I wanted to be the type of performer I idolized when I was a kid. I wanted to be like Ken Shamrock, Mick Foley, or Stone Cold Steve Austin. I wanted to wear that crimson mask like Austin wore with Bret in Wrestlemania 13. Thanks to the chain, I have gotten to live those dreams and more. It is a burden, and it is a gift, and for it I will forever be grateful.


”Mad Dog” Connelly is an independent professional wrestler who has performed worldwide for promotions such as Ring of Honor, WxW, Deadlock Pro, Beyond Wrestling, West Coast Pro, DEFY, St. Louis Anarchy, and many more. He is also a musician, having most recently released the “Learn to Grow” EP.