He don't have a friend left
My first actual memories of Professional wrestling were receiving the big rubber Hulk Hogan figure and two thumb wrestlers for Christmas in 1987. I can't even recall if i was a wrestling fan but I am guessing I was a fan of the Hulk Hogan cartoons. I had a Hulk Hogan lunch box but I only remember that due to the photographic evidence. Sometimes I wonder how many actual memories we have or if we see a picture enough or hear a story enough that it becomes part of our memory and not an actual self made moment in time. Heady, no?
It wasn't until I was in 4th grade that wrestling would re-enter my life. My good friend Michael S. and his friend Mark were wrestling fans. And then I had another friend also named Michael A who was a fan. I remember Mike S being a huge Ultimate Warrior fan and he got me hooked on the guy too. This incredible beast wore face paint, tassels around his biceps and legs and had new colors overtime he sped to the ring. Yes, he ran to the ring to an amazing piece of three chord rock n roll that set the tone of the man to a T. It was like the embodiment of 80s metal on a Wrestler. There was a time I won a competition at school about Presidential facts. To celebrate my victory, i tied my shoelaces around my arms and held my belt above my head. I wasn't the coolest kid ever, but I knew my presidents. Yes, The Ultimate Warrior catapulted another obsession in my life. Professional wrestling was a don't miss affair for me every week. Of course I was almost traumatized by the first week I sat down to watch the weekly show. WWF(World Wrestling Federation) Superstars of Wrestling aired on Saturday mornings on WTXX Channel 20 in my little end of Connecticut and then aired right after it ended again on WPIX Channel 11 in New York. So on that first episode they showed a recap of a wrestler known as the Undertaker attack my Ultimate Warrior and lock him into an airtight casket. Automatically I hated the Undertaker and would never forgive him for this!
It wasn't six months into my fandom that something strange happened. The Warrior was in the main event of the annual SummerSlam event. When they showed the recap pics the next week, there was no sign of the painted one. Then, he just disappeared. Where was my favorite? As I was new to the game I did not know that when a wrestler left a company he was wiped from history(back then). No mention of them no telling us where he went. Nothing. My favorite was just…gone.
I was now in 5th grade and I needed a new favorite. Enter the Rowdy One, Rowdy Roddy Piper. I was always kind of quick, but this guy made me up my game. Unlike the Warrior, this man wore a kilt to the ring. But it was the interviews that caught me. The man was fast and when he interacted he could cut ya down no matter who you were or what you said. This quality appealed to me and I was soon getting rather quick with the wit myself. A quality that is with me to this day. Perhaps if Warrior had no opened the door, I would not be the fast talker I am now. Of course, six months later, Piper was gone. But the Warrior was back!
Wrestlemania 8. April 2, 1992. Michael A. had it ordered on pay per view and had invited our friend Josh and I to watch with him. The card was ok. But the amazing moment came after the final match. Hulk Hogan was being beaten down by a couple of brutes named Sid Justice, a giant with a screw loose, and Papa Shango, a voodoo man. As Justice left the ring to grab a dreaded steel chair to inflict more pain on "The Hulkster", color analyst Bobby "The Brain" Heenan uttered the words "He(Hogan) don't have a friend left." But then, we heard it. The Ultimate Warrior's 3 chord metal anthem began to play! I don't actually remember what happened next from that initial viewing. No, I only know it from the countless times I have watched it back over the past 17 years because when we heard that music play, we began jumping and screaming our heads off. HE WAS BACK! The Warrior ran down the isle and back into our lives. 6 months later, he was gone again. He was to main event a Pay Per View event known as Survivor Series. For no explained reason he was out and the wrestler known as Mr. Perfect was his replacement. My life was changed again.
Having long hair and an attitude to match the fact that I really didn't care if I was accepted or not had its challenges. When people try to cut ya down, you don't just say, "I'm happy with myself and my mommy loves me." You might as well kick your own ass. Soon, my way of combating the few who did try to pick on me was to adopt the Mr. Perfect persona. If some kid tried to say something about me, I would remind him that I was perfect. No, this was not a foolproof plan. What it did accomplish for me was a built in confidence in myself that lasts to this day. I don't believe I am perfect. But I do believe in my abilities and also recognize my shortcomings without letting them beat me. Mr Perfect was exactly what the doctor ordered. With junior high school looming over my head, it was only going to get worse. I was short and scrawny and did not fit in at all. But I had my confidence. And it made all the difference.
Soon Mr Perfect was semi retired and the Warrior had disappeared and Roddy Piper kept coming back but without the spark in his eye that I had so admired. Life was interfering and though I watched wrestling every monday night, for a while there, I just wasn't sure who my favorite was. Wrestling was in a transition phase and while I liked the Bret Harts of the world and the Diesals, I just did not have that same enjoyment as I did with my heroes. My favorite star of WCW, the rival promotion to the WWF, was Brian Pillman. Brian was an amazing character. In his early years the man flew around the ring like no other American and certainly like no one I had ever seen. "Flyin' Brian" was a smiley good guy. Then, he turned on the fans and became a bad guy. This was the first time my allegiances were tested in such a way. So I stick with the man or change with the attitude. Ultimately now that I understand the wrestling business more, I understand that the best way to support the man was to boo him. The more boos he got, that meant he was doing his job well. But I liked Pillman and I liked the attitude. So I stuck with him. This was a strange place to be in. My friends always cheered the good guys as did the world. Yet here I was rooting for a bad guy because I refused to give up on him and quite frankly, I liked what he was saying. Maybe being a bad guy wasn't so bad.
Pillman came to the WWF in 1996 and assumed the "Ticking Time Bomb" persona. He would do or say anything at anytime. He had blurred the lines of fantasy and reality so well that even some of the wrestlers themselves were fooled. Pillman played the part to excellence and made him the biggest commodity in wresting history. At the time of his signing he had the longest contract in wrestling and one of the highest payouts in the company. Sadly, on the eve of his signing, Brian was in a terrible car accident that shattered his ankle. But he continued to wrestle. The ticking could not be stopped. But the time bomb blew a fuse.
I remember getting a phone call from my friend Michael S at some point after 8pm on Monday, October 6 1997. He told me that at the beginning of the WCW Nitro program, they ran a Graphic that read "Brian Pillman: 1962-1997". That seemed strange to me as Brian did not work for WCW anymore. Could it be true? Other wrestlers I liked had died before. Actually only one , Kerry Von Erich. He had shot himself in February of 1993. His family has a history of tragedy and quite honestly after learning that story, his death was not much of a shock. But Brian? He was one of my #1 guys. This made no sense. He was in a great feud at the time and finally seemed to be getting some recognition. As the WWF Raw program began an hour later, i knew I had to be tuned in directly at 9. Sure enough, the show opened with WWF owner Vince Mcmahon in the ring asking us all to observe a 10 bell salute in the memory of Brian Pillman. And there was every wrestler lined up at the top of the stage. Friend and foe standing next to each other for their fallen brother. And in a house in Connecticut, a 16 year old teenager was shockingly saying goodbye to one of his favorites. Another hero down. Another harsh lesson learned. You can be 35 years old and in competitive shape, but if you have an inherited heart condition, none of that matters.
These days I still watch wrestling. My heroes are gone. Either retired(Ultimate Warrior, Bret Hart) or dead(Pillman, Mr Perfect[for whom I still spit out and swat away every piece of gum I chew]) but there are a few who entertain me still. And there are some who have still helped me through whatever it was I was facing at particular times in my life. Good ol' wrestling. My friend.
It wasn't until I was in 4th grade that wrestling would re-enter my life. My good friend Michael S. and his friend Mark were wrestling fans. And then I had another friend also named Michael A who was a fan. I remember Mike S being a huge Ultimate Warrior fan and he got me hooked on the guy too. This incredible beast wore face paint, tassels around his biceps and legs and had new colors overtime he sped to the ring. Yes, he ran to the ring to an amazing piece of three chord rock n roll that set the tone of the man to a T. It was like the embodiment of 80s metal on a Wrestler. There was a time I won a competition at school about Presidential facts. To celebrate my victory, i tied my shoelaces around my arms and held my belt above my head. I wasn't the coolest kid ever, but I knew my presidents. Yes, The Ultimate Warrior catapulted another obsession in my life. Professional wrestling was a don't miss affair for me every week. Of course I was almost traumatized by the first week I sat down to watch the weekly show. WWF(World Wrestling Federation) Superstars of Wrestling aired on Saturday mornings on WTXX Channel 20 in my little end of Connecticut and then aired right after it ended again on WPIX Channel 11 in New York. So on that first episode they showed a recap of a wrestler known as the Undertaker attack my Ultimate Warrior and lock him into an airtight casket. Automatically I hated the Undertaker and would never forgive him for this!
It wasn't six months into my fandom that something strange happened. The Warrior was in the main event of the annual SummerSlam event. When they showed the recap pics the next week, there was no sign of the painted one. Then, he just disappeared. Where was my favorite? As I was new to the game I did not know that when a wrestler left a company he was wiped from history(back then). No mention of them no telling us where he went. Nothing. My favorite was just…gone.
I was now in 5th grade and I needed a new favorite. Enter the Rowdy One, Rowdy Roddy Piper. I was always kind of quick, but this guy made me up my game. Unlike the Warrior, this man wore a kilt to the ring. But it was the interviews that caught me. The man was fast and when he interacted he could cut ya down no matter who you were or what you said. This quality appealed to me and I was soon getting rather quick with the wit myself. A quality that is with me to this day. Perhaps if Warrior had no opened the door, I would not be the fast talker I am now. Of course, six months later, Piper was gone. But the Warrior was back!
Wrestlemania 8. April 2, 1992. Michael A. had it ordered on pay per view and had invited our friend Josh and I to watch with him. The card was ok. But the amazing moment came after the final match. Hulk Hogan was being beaten down by a couple of brutes named Sid Justice, a giant with a screw loose, and Papa Shango, a voodoo man. As Justice left the ring to grab a dreaded steel chair to inflict more pain on "The Hulkster", color analyst Bobby "The Brain" Heenan uttered the words "He(Hogan) don't have a friend left." But then, we heard it. The Ultimate Warrior's 3 chord metal anthem began to play! I don't actually remember what happened next from that initial viewing. No, I only know it from the countless times I have watched it back over the past 17 years because when we heard that music play, we began jumping and screaming our heads off. HE WAS BACK! The Warrior ran down the isle and back into our lives. 6 months later, he was gone again. He was to main event a Pay Per View event known as Survivor Series. For no explained reason he was out and the wrestler known as Mr. Perfect was his replacement. My life was changed again.
Having long hair and an attitude to match the fact that I really didn't care if I was accepted or not had its challenges. When people try to cut ya down, you don't just say, "I'm happy with myself and my mommy loves me." You might as well kick your own ass. Soon, my way of combating the few who did try to pick on me was to adopt the Mr. Perfect persona. If some kid tried to say something about me, I would remind him that I was perfect. No, this was not a foolproof plan. What it did accomplish for me was a built in confidence in myself that lasts to this day. I don't believe I am perfect. But I do believe in my abilities and also recognize my shortcomings without letting them beat me. Mr Perfect was exactly what the doctor ordered. With junior high school looming over my head, it was only going to get worse. I was short and scrawny and did not fit in at all. But I had my confidence. And it made all the difference.
Soon Mr Perfect was semi retired and the Warrior had disappeared and Roddy Piper kept coming back but without the spark in his eye that I had so admired. Life was interfering and though I watched wrestling every monday night, for a while there, I just wasn't sure who my favorite was. Wrestling was in a transition phase and while I liked the Bret Harts of the world and the Diesals, I just did not have that same enjoyment as I did with my heroes. My favorite star of WCW, the rival promotion to the WWF, was Brian Pillman. Brian was an amazing character. In his early years the man flew around the ring like no other American and certainly like no one I had ever seen. "Flyin' Brian" was a smiley good guy. Then, he turned on the fans and became a bad guy. This was the first time my allegiances were tested in such a way. So I stick with the man or change with the attitude. Ultimately now that I understand the wrestling business more, I understand that the best way to support the man was to boo him. The more boos he got, that meant he was doing his job well. But I liked Pillman and I liked the attitude. So I stuck with him. This was a strange place to be in. My friends always cheered the good guys as did the world. Yet here I was rooting for a bad guy because I refused to give up on him and quite frankly, I liked what he was saying. Maybe being a bad guy wasn't so bad.
Pillman came to the WWF in 1996 and assumed the "Ticking Time Bomb" persona. He would do or say anything at anytime. He had blurred the lines of fantasy and reality so well that even some of the wrestlers themselves were fooled. Pillman played the part to excellence and made him the biggest commodity in wresting history. At the time of his signing he had the longest contract in wrestling and one of the highest payouts in the company. Sadly, on the eve of his signing, Brian was in a terrible car accident that shattered his ankle. But he continued to wrestle. The ticking could not be stopped. But the time bomb blew a fuse.
I remember getting a phone call from my friend Michael S at some point after 8pm on Monday, October 6 1997. He told me that at the beginning of the WCW Nitro program, they ran a Graphic that read "Brian Pillman: 1962-1997". That seemed strange to me as Brian did not work for WCW anymore. Could it be true? Other wrestlers I liked had died before. Actually only one , Kerry Von Erich. He had shot himself in February of 1993. His family has a history of tragedy and quite honestly after learning that story, his death was not much of a shock. But Brian? He was one of my #1 guys. This made no sense. He was in a great feud at the time and finally seemed to be getting some recognition. As the WWF Raw program began an hour later, i knew I had to be tuned in directly at 9. Sure enough, the show opened with WWF owner Vince Mcmahon in the ring asking us all to observe a 10 bell salute in the memory of Brian Pillman. And there was every wrestler lined up at the top of the stage. Friend and foe standing next to each other for their fallen brother. And in a house in Connecticut, a 16 year old teenager was shockingly saying goodbye to one of his favorites. Another hero down. Another harsh lesson learned. You can be 35 years old and in competitive shape, but if you have an inherited heart condition, none of that matters.
These days I still watch wrestling. My heroes are gone. Either retired(Ultimate Warrior, Bret Hart) or dead(Pillman, Mr Perfect[for whom I still spit out and swat away every piece of gum I chew]) but there are a few who entertain me still. And there are some who have still helped me through whatever it was I was facing at particular times in my life. Good ol' wrestling. My friend.
posted by Jon M Hyde at
12:45 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home