Going to the Mat

By 2007, el Hijo del Santo (Son of the Saint) was the reigning superstar of the sport of lucha libre, or "free fighting," a form of wrestling that is second only to soccer as the most popular spectator sport in Mexico. The wrestlers wear colorful masks and flashy costumes representing heroes and villains, often incorporating visual elements from Mexico's indigenous past. "Our fights are like the struggle between good and evil," Santo says. "I'm one of the good guys."

With millions of fans in Mexico and the United States, Santo wanted to use his popularity to benefit the environment. His chance came when he heard a radio interview with Wildcoast/Costasalvaje, a group that was working to protect the coastline on both sides of the U.S.–Mexico border. The group was looking for a celebrity to help get its message across, and Santo volunteered.

The strategy was simple. He would meet with children in critical areas, educating them about their local environment and urging them to become directly involved in protecting it. With TV crews following his every move, he hoped to persuade leaders in government, business, and the nonprofit world to protect endangered species, restore wetlands, and contribute to sustainable economic development.

A first stop for the surprisingly soft-spoken fighter was Colonia San Bernardo, a poor, makeshift community on a ravaged hillside above Tijuana. San Bernardo had no waste management and no piped-in water. During the rainy season, trash thrown into the canyons overflowed into the Tijuana River, clogged up the wetlands, and ended up polluting the ocean on the U.S. side of the border.

Santo walked through the muddy streets in his silver mask and black jeans, signing autographs for local children. He told them that the stream that fed into the river was badly polluted and that playing in it could make them sick. He asked them to throw their trash in the trash bins, not in the canyons. "Santo is fighting to keep the river clean," he said, "but he can't do it alone. He needs the help of all the children. Will you be on my team? Are you with me?" Mesmerized by the presence of a hero they'd seen on TV, the kids raised their fists and shouted, "We're with you, Santo!"

Oscar Romo, an environmentalist and city planner at the University of California, San Diego, has mentored many of the children. "Santo really got their attention," he says. "They're going to remember what he says for a long time -- and get their families involved too." In the months following Santo's visit, not only did the children become more vigilant about keeping the river clean, but the city of Tijuana, thanks to Romo's efforts, finally agreed to hook up Colonia San Bernardo to the municipal waste-treatment system.

Santo's next stop was the near-pristine Laguna San Ignacio in Baja California, a birthing place for Pacific gray whales and a feeding ground for endangered sea turtles, where the Natural Resources Defense Council has worked for years to stop the threat of commercial development.

Visiting a local school, Santo explained why it was wrong to kill sea turtles for their meat or their eggs and told the kids that the gray whales everybody loved would die if the lagoon became polluted. The answer to his appeal for help was the same as it had been in Tijuana: "We're with you, Santo!"

Again, TV coverage of Santo's visit helped attract new kinds of support. Along with funding for conservation easements and sustainable agriculture came grants for solar and wind energy projects -- as well as dedicated instructors to train local people to maintain the new technology.

Last year 7,000 fans came to see Santo accept a Hero of the Environment award at the Monterey Bay Aquarium in California. "This is the most important fight of my life," he said, pledging to continue his efforts, "and I need all the children to be on my team!"