Wednesday, June 27, 2007

Bring on da Crusher

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)

7 comments:

W.B. Picklesworth said...

You shut your big, fat trap!!! Just because you're jealous doesn't mean you have to go off half-cocked telling crazy stories about my favorite sport. I oughtta give you a series of fake fists to the head and then lightly toss you on to the springy floor.

imfreenow.blogspot.com said...

Ben,

is that any way for a pastor to talk? Would anyone who followed the teachings of Jesus talk that way?

anon

Bike Bubba said...

Oh, you know Jesus didn't just hit air with that whip at the Temple, Gabrielle! :^)

Anonymous said...

You're on Ben, cage match. Let's make it a tag team. I'll take Reverend Mother. Winner decides whether it's real or fake.

kd

W.B. Picklesworth said...

I'll have to give consideration as to who my tag team partner will be and I'll get back to you, ya snivelling, conspiracy-minded, bloated squirrel-headed meanie pants!

Anonymous said...

I worked a couple of rasslin' events at the Dome during my time there. A co-worker made a disparaging remark about the audience.

"Oh, they're alright," I said, "just as long as they don't vote or reproduce."

Oh, and good luck trying to get the Reverend Mother anywhere near the ring. Tiger Lilly, however, might be available to the highest bidder!

Steve said...

KD: You can't leave out my personal favorite from back in the day - Ivan Koloff. What are you thinking???