When someone says Pro Wrestling isn’t a real sport...
Behold, I give you some of my favorites….
Randy Orton vs. Seth Rollins… This is a Punt reversal into an RKO. Outta fuggin’ Nowhere. Not only is this athleticism, but mad fucking skill, and amazing control and finesse. We are talking strength, precision, and amazing talent.
This is the Billionaire Dollar Princess’ Husband, Triple H Hunter Hearst Helmsley. He TORE his quad…proceeded to wrestle for 15 more minutes and WALK out of the arena. He also has an awesome finisher, The Predigree, where you land on your face, unable to use your arms to protect yourself.
Yes, those are tacks. And that man going face-first into them is God. Mrs. Foley’s favorite boy, Mick Foley, aka Cactus Jack, aka Dude Love, aka Mankind. He is Legend. A cage match with Undertaker put him through the TOP of the cage to the ring…he then got up, climbed the cage again, and then launched from the top onto the announcers table…He had a front tooth ram back up through his nose.
Oh and Jeff Hardy and Edge in a Ladder match. Edge speared Hardy in midair and fell. That’s not ‘taking a bump’ or selling a strike. That’s just brutal fucking impact.
And a new guy on the block straight outta Japan, the King of Strong Style… Shinsuke Nakamura. This guy legit hits, kicks, and punches people. (That’s what Strong Style is.) So not only with some seriously wrecking moves, he literally brings REAL pain.
And there’s more! Seriously! John Cena, picking up Edge and Big Show (which is a combined weight of 682 pounds!) That’s insane! Big Show is the Biggest Athlete in any business. And he’s strong…and surprisingly fast. And yes, that is Rey Mysterio bound on a paramedic’s stretcher. Yeah, a real human being took that bump.
There are also some AMAZING women who do this sport as well. And while they look sexy and pretty and have their onscreen drama… they also kick ass. Becky Lynch tossing the shit out of Sasha Banks with a German Suplex. Imagine the Heimlich where you also get thrown and get the air knocked out of you.
And the Mayor of Suplex City, Brock Lesnar… who eats galvanized steel for breakfast, and just is angry all the time.
ALL THE TIME. But I feel I should show more of the great women. Here’s Lita, who trained in Mexico in the Luchador style…meaning she’s all over the place and graceful and lethal as hell. And yeah, she wasn’t afraid to get in the ring with the big boys either.
So damnit…it’s a sport okay? Give it thirty minutes…and you’ll see for yourself. These amazing people sweat and bleed and take insane risks to entertain and amaze. What they do isn’t “fake” even if the stories are lame or the stunts are choreographed. It takes to much skill and training to do what they do. And to not give them credit is just… *sigh* inhuman.
My heart is aching. My eyes are swollen from crying, having just talked
to Joan Laurer’s manager Anthony Anzaldo on the phone and been told
that Chyna, the 9th Wonder of the World was no longer with us; gone at
only 45. I will always be grateful for the friendship I shared with
her, but particularly so for the kindness she showed my children,
especially Noelle when she was younger -
taking her by the hand at WWE events in the late 90’s - off to have her
makeup done, her fingernails painted; bonding time between big, strong
Joanie, and her tiny sidekick. A father doesn’t forget that type of
kindness. I didn’t know whether to post a classic photo of Chyna in
her WWE prime or of Joanie from the last time I saw her - about 10
months ago at a convention on Long Island. I went with the photo from
the convention because of the emotion; because it was taken at the exact
moment I saw her for the first time in many years. I was told later
that Joanie wasn’t sure how I would react to her, and that it meant a
great deal to be accepted. Like I said, a father doesn’t forget. I
called home on my way back from the convention – only about 40 minutes
from my house. “I’m bringing a friend over to watch the pay-per-view” I
said to my wife. “Who’s that?”, my wife asked. “Chyna” “Chyna?” “Yeah, Chyna!” And that was pretty much that. A mother, you see, doesn’t forget the kindness shown to her child, either.
I am so glad we had that night with Joanie. A night to let her know how
much we cared about her, whether it was politically correct or not. A
night to let her know we loved her -and always will. RIP my dear friend.
I pray that somehow in death, you can find the peace that eluded you so
frequently during the latter years of your remarkable life.