I feel it's worth noting that our last post, made by Mr. Max Nova, was post number 100 on this young and rapidly growing blog. Congrats, all. Many more.
I wanted to talk a bit about something that came into my mind after recently seeing Mickey Rourke's new film, "The Wrestler." If you haven't seen it yet, I can highly recommend it, Rourke is fantastic and it's about as good a screenplay as you'll come across (unlike...well...you know, the "H" word).
Anyway, the movie got me thinking about pro wrestling, specifically Chris Benoit. You see, I used to be something of a wrestling fan. Well, that might be something of an understatement. For most of my high school life, I spent my Monday and Thursday nights glued to the TV watching Raw and Smackdown!, respectively, and when there wasn't wrestling on television, I was surfing the web reading the wrestlepages trying to figure out who was going to get the next big push or who was poised to make a heel turn.
People who don't watch wrestling often have trouble understanding the appeal. Isn't it fake? If you know what's going to happen, why is it exciting? People, it's really pretty simple. Wrestling is a soap opera for men. Did I know Triple H was gonna win the title? Sure. Could I see Chris Jericho's heel turn coming a mile away? Of course. Do I acknowledge there's no way "The People's Elbow" would ever actually hurt anyone? I don't think the move even makes contact. Not the point. I watched because I loved the story lines, I loved watching the whole building become electrified as soon as the crowd heard The Rock's voice or the sound of glass shattering, I watched because I was a fan of the athletes and what they could do.
Chris Benoit was my favorite wrestler though, and it wasn't really all that close. There were a few reasons I liked him-but mostly, it was because he was nothing short of a master of technical wrestling. The guy pulled off textbook move after textbook move, his suplexes were masterful, his diving headbutt was a thing of beauty, hell, I once saw the guy do 10 German Suplexes in a row and come back for more. He was so intense in that ring, so fierce, and so solidly good at everything he did (even his promos were good), that he was hard not to admire.
So he was my favorite. When I got to college though, I stopped watching. For a few reasons. First off, the show really started to go south when WWF bought WCW. The attempt to water down the actual wrestling while adding more sex pretty much nauseated me, and, more than anything, I was finding myself with much less free time for that kind of stuff.
The summer I graduated college, Benoit died. I remember where I was when I heard it-the staff lounge at my summer camp. The tv was on in the background, and I remember they were supposed to do a fake memorial to Vince McMahon, who had died on the show. But instead, a picture of Benoit with his dates of birth and death appeared on the screen. McMahon then addressed an empty stadium, while crying, and left a beer in the ring for Chris. I was so heartbroken. Benoit was my hero. Even though I didn't watch the show anymore, I still had a special place in my heart for him. And to think-he was killed in his home? By who? And with his wife and child as well? Who would do that? How terrible! I was upset the rest of the night. It just wasn't right.
It wasn't until the next morning that the horrific details starting pouring in. Benoit, under some kind of 'roid rage (though the actual logic behind his actions has never really been explained), over the course of the weekend, murdered both his son and wife, and then proceeded to hang himself. WWE pulled all his info from their website, all the memorial images they had put up, any record of his existence. And just like that, Benoit was a killer. Probably the worst kind. And this time, my heart really broke.
Wrestling, pro wrestling, that is, as a business, is as corrupt as it gets. McMahon wants you to think these guys have all given up steroids, that his business is clean as a whistle. It's not. Drugs are still a part of wrestling culture, be they steroids or pain pills, and people are dying and dying young because of it. Not only that, but there's only so many shots to the head with a chair you can take before you're done. Look at Stone Cold Steve Austin, who turned into a wife beating, real life drunk on suicide watch. Yokozuna? Dead. Big Boss Man? Dead. Junkyard Dog? Dead. Road Dogg? Druggie. The list goes on, and eventually, it ends at Benoit.
I can't even watch wrestling anymore. It sickens me to think I ever supported a business that makes its money driving people to the brink of insanity. Maybe it's time for congress to do something. I don't know. But I do know that whenever I bust out my old wrestling video games, all the wrestlers I've created of myself have Benoit's diving headbutt move as a finisher. And, to be honest, I don't know just how to feel about that anymore.
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