It was a Friday night, just like any other.

Nick Castanhinha was texting karaoke GIFs to a small group of his closest friends. They were making plans to go to the Oriental Pearl in Westport to belt out some off-key tunes after a Top Rope Promotions wrestling show at The Vault in New Bedford.

But Nick didn’t sing on that Sunday night. Nor did he make it to The Vault.

The news arrived that Saturday morning, Feb. 15. Castanhinha — known to many as Nick Steel — had passed away unexpectedly.

The local wrestling community was left to mourn.

***

It was 1992 when a young Ted Bolduc and his parents showed up for a wrestling event at the Fall River PAL. That was the first time he saw "Nightmare" Nick Steel in action.

“He made it look real,” says Bolduc, who wrestles as Teddy Goodz. “It kind of was real. He wasn’t trying to put physical harm on anyone, but he knew a lot of judo, so he could tie you up like a pretzel and manipulate you. And he was a lot bigger than everyone.”

“He’s just a tough brute,” says Brandon Webb, known as The Devil’s Reject. “You couldn’t break him. He’s a tough guy.”

“He was always intense,” says Frank Bento, who wrestles as Franky Vain. “He didn’t have to hype up the crowd. His presence alone, he would come into the ring to kick some butt. You could see it.”

Steel used to have a saying: “You can’t force people to believe everything they see in wrestling. But you can make them believe in you.”

“He brought legitimacy to wrestling,” says Ryan Drew, who wrestles as Ryan Waters. “He was known as someone you don’t mess with in the ring. He was going to hit you. When Nick came in the ring, you believed him. He was a big, tough, thick guy. He had a take-no-prisoners attitude.

“But outside the ring, he was the complete opposite.”

***

Known as the magnanimous face of the local wrestling scene — and particularly Top Rope Promotions — for nearly three decades, Steel was as well known for his talents inside the ropes as the talent he nurtured as a renowned trainer.

Born in New Bedford and raised in Dartmouth, he got his start wrestling at age 15 in 1992 in the shows on Bellevue Avenue and Coggeshall Street.

When Bolduc was also 15, he started training with Steel through what was then called Whaling City Wrestling and is now The Lock-Up Wrestling Academy.

“At first, I was really afraid and intimidated by him,” Bolduc recalls. “I was a skinny kid out of high school and he had been wrestling for 10 years. But after that we kind of hit it off. I was still intimidated my first couple of years, but we became great friends.”

“Everybody knew that getting his approval was a big thing,” says Bento, who joined with Steel to form the Whaling City Wrecking Crew tag team. “Once I stuck around the first six years, and I always came back for an extra beating, he knew I would stick around and I was in that close circle.”

Drew also first got to know Steel as his trainer when he started wrestling in 2002.

“I think a lot of people looked at him as a hard-ass or very regimental,” Drew says. “He just had high expectations and for some people that was a turn-off. But for someone like me, it made me want to earn his respect more.”

Drew went on to train alongside Steel for the past half-dozen years at the Lock-Up academy.

“When I first started, a lot of the trainers didn’t like me,” Drew says. “Nick did, for some reason. He later told me it was because I had respect for myself. He challenged me and I took the challenge and he respected me and took me under his wing.”

For many local wrestlers, Steel taught them much of what they know.

“He was always good at giving feedback,” Bento says. “He’d always help everyone out. He would always point the younger kids in the right direction and tell them the things they could do better or the things they shouldn’t do. He was very helpful.”

“He did something most wrestling schools don’t do,” Bolduc says. “He would teach you how to legitimately defend yourself. Not punching someone in the nose, but grabbing them by the ankle and getting them off their feet.”

Over the years, a core group of local wrestlers, who had trained under Steel and now performed alongside him, developed and he drew them together even as life drew them apart.

“In wrestling, you meet a lot of people and he had a lot of friends,” Drew says. “But there was a core group of us who really lost our best friend that day. But, he knew he was loved by us and we knew he loved us. So there’s some solace in that.”

“When we would go out, he would be the first guy to be cracking jokes and buying rounds and making sure everyone was having fun,” Bolduc says. “At the same time, people knew we were wrestlers and wanted to test us and Nick was always the first one to make sure nothing happened.”

He was also one to unite the local wrestling scene and remind everyone that they were bonded by more than they were separated by. He believed that in-ring rivalries need not bleed into real life.

“He was never one to talk bad about anybody,” Webb says. “What Nick always wanted was to change the landscape of pro wrestling. People can’t be selfish. They need to love one another. That’s what he believed in. We all wrestle with each other and need to take care of each other.”

“He was the glue,” Drew adds. “The wrestling bonded us. He had a great sense of humor and he loved to laugh. He was always there with a quick joke. He liked to party and have fun. He used to say wrestling was his family.”

***

Actually, Nick had two families. One knew him as Nick Steel, wrestler, trainer and general badass. The other knew him as Nick Castanhinha, a 44-year-old father who lived in Mattapoisett who left behind a wife, Jennifer (Hibbert) Castanhinha, and three sons: Jacob, Joshua and Caelan.

“He took care of his boys 100 percent,” said Webb. “I’ve seen it firsthand. He would cook for them, or play arcade. He would take his shirt off his back for you. He cared for so many people and the passion he had is something I really respected. The two things he loved most were his boys and the wrestling business.”

Webb experienced that generosity first-hand. After a recent breakup, Steel offered to let him stay at his home.

“That meant a lot,” Webb said. “One thing about Nick, he knew how to make me laugh when I was down. When I was crying, he told me ‘A real man cries, let it out.’ But he never cried. He was the toughest guy I know. He’s the real-life Man of Steel. Nothing can break him.”

That’s a sentiment shared by many.

“He literally is the toughest person I’ve ever met in my life,” Bolduc says. “Not just in wrestling, but outside of wrestling. He looked like a savage, but I’ve seen him defuse way more fights than I’ve seen him be in.”

Steel was an expert in quieting barroom brawls from his years as a bouncer at several downtown New Bedford hot spots — the Catwalk, Hibernia, the 908 — many of which have since closed their doors.

But he also went against the stereotype of a brawler.

“He was probably one of the most intelligent guys I’ve ever met,” says Drew. “He could retain information and facts. He was philosophical in nature. Very well read and very well educated.”

“I called him the philosopher,” Webb says. “He loved Hercules and Zeus, Greek Gods. He was very well read. He’s a big believer in God.”

While he might have been prone to overindulging in conspiracy theories, Steel always approached life with an open mind.

“It’s those really substantial conversations that I’ll miss the most,” Drew says. “It wasn’t always about wrestling. It would be about politics or religion or life in general. He would take things in and he wouldn't be quick to judge. He could look at all sides.”

***

It was 9 a.m. on a Saturday morning and Webb woke up to two missed calls from Steel’s cell phone, which was unusual since he was more likely to text than call. Webb called the number back and Jennifer Castanhinha picked up. She tearfully delivered the news.

“I didn’t believe her,” Webb says. “I didn’t know what to believe.”

Bolduc found out from Webb.

“It was totally unexpected,” Bolduc says. “I was in a state of shock at first.”

“I sat in bed for an hour and didn’t want to move,” Drew says. “I was afraid to move. The minute I started moving, I could feel myself start to break down. A part of you hopes you’re going to get a call that it’s a mistake or they’re wrong and it didn’t happen.”

Bento was at the gym when he checked his phone and saw six missed calls, four from Steel’s number.

“I just couldn’t believe it,” he says. “I thought it was a terrible dream; a nightmare I’d wake up from. Even three or four days later, it still felt unreal.”

Steel was laid to rest on Feb. 22 and a GoFundMe has been set up to help support his children. Top Rope Promotion dedicated its event on Feb. 16 to his memory.

“He was a loving father, a brother, a husband, a trainer and a mentor,” Webb says. “I like to say he was the real-life Man of Steel. There was no one else stronger or tougher.”