Most of you have probably heard the sad story about the professional wrestler who killed his family and hung himself. I don’t even want to go there. The subject of professional wrestling got me thinking about my one and only spectator experience with it.
Eons ago, when MM and I were younger, we worked with developmentally disabled adults. I found that they all had their own unique personalities; but they seemingly all had one thing in common---they all loved professional wrestling. (does that say anything about the sport?)
So, one fine day a few of us group home counselors got together and decided to take our gangs to an event. It turned out to be myself and one other counselor, and we brought 14 of our clients. To say that I was totally disappointed and disgusted with the whole thing would be an understatement. The clients all loved it, and they had a blast. I thought it might at least be a little entertaining; but, I was wrong. Every single bout was filled with the same routines; and, after the second match, you could outline every single bout and call what was going to happen next. It was pathetic. I told myself once in a lifetime was enough for this activity. (same thing I said after I took JR to a monster truck rally about 5 years ago, that’s another story)
I loved watching it on tv when I was a kid. The Crusher and his beer kegs, good guy Verne Gagne, Baron Von Raschke, Ivan Putksy---I ate it up. I also believed in Santa and the Tooth Fairy when I was a kid; but I grew up, and realized they were make believe. The same with wrestling, although you can't tell that to the more rabid of fans, the vast majority of whom must be somewhat mentally disabled themselves. (I appreciate the athleticism of the performers, but that's what they are---performers)