Rasslin' With Death

     When my wife and I saw the promo for Wrestling with Death for the first time, our reactions were polar opposites. This show is essentially about a funeral director and his family who live in the small Arkansas town of Osceola. They run a funeral home during the day and put on wrestling shows on the weekend. No, that’s not a typo. I laughed so hard I gave myself a coughing fit; I knew this was going to be epic something to the nth degree. My dear wife just looked at me and shook her head. 

This program contains scenes of real corpses

and actual mortuary preparation practices.

This disclaimer appeared before the show started

The following conversation ensued:

     “We have to DVR this.”

     “What! You won’t even watch Duck Dynasty!’

      “Yeah, well that’s dumb as shit.”

      “And this isn’t? What the hell is rasslin’? That’s not even a word.”

      “”After almost 5 years with me you should be used to made up words.”

      “I am ,but that word? It just won’t come out of my mouth. No, na na na, no.  I can’t .”

      “I don’t know really where the word came from. It’s just another made up word like the goofy crap in the Urban Dictionary.”

      “ I don’t care, it’s not a word and I’m not saying it and I’m not watching that either.”

     “Okay, fair enough, but you have watch it at least once just for the dumb entertainment value of it.”

     To her credit she did sit and suffer through half of one episode with me and announced that for any further viewings I was on my own. I am of the opinion that all reality TV is really just the video version of artificial flavoring; things are not really what they seem. What this little bit of nonsense flashing across my TV screen did do was bring back some fond old memories.

     Watching the wrestling clips in the promos reminded me of the ring at the wrestling shows I went to as a kid. Seeing the turnbuckles crafted from duct tape, the small arena, and the obvious age of the ring itself blasted me back to a time when i sat in the stands at a similar venue. 
     

     My friend’s Dad worked for the local newspaper as sports editor and he was able to get free general admission passes to the wrestling shows at the little multi-purpose auditorium at Ocean Beach Park in New London. What a great experience for a couple of goofy adolescents; the crazy cast of regulars that attended every show were as entertaining as the wrestlers in the ring. 


      There were a couple of little old ladies at every match that always sat near ring side; one always had a cane that she would wave at the bad guys then bang the hell out of the ring apron with it. The two of them would stand up, yell and shake their fists at the bad guys as they got the better of the fan favorites. More than one bad guy felt the wrath of that cane. Gorilla Monsoon had really a big fan that was there every time Gorilla was on the card. I mean REALLY BIG, like close to 500 pounds kind of big.  He was always perched in the middle of the bench in one section along the top row of the roll-out wooden bleachers. His bulk caused that section to sag like an old swaybacked nag. All through Gorilla’s match you could hear this deep voice yelling, “Heyyyy Gorilla, kick him in the peen.”

     One of the regular wrestlers on the card, Joe Esposito, ran an Italian restaurant when he wasn’t wrestling.  My buddy’s Dad took us there a couple of times for pizza before the matches and we were in heaven. This place was the typical Italian restaurant; the red and white checked table cloths with the Chianti bottle candle holder centerpiece dripping with hardened wax from previous diners gave the place an atmosphere that radiated good food and comfort. The effect was enhanced by the walls that were plastered with black and white photos of pro wrestlers; there were both good guys and heels and most of them were autographed.  It was like a living wrestling history lesson; there were pictures of old timers that we never got to see in person and had only read about in magazine. Outside the ring it was obvious wrestling was a brotherhood like most sports. That idea was further cemented at the end of each show we attended as we watched both good guys and bad guys pile in the same car together and drive off to a local hotel or the next event. 

     Being at a small venue during the years before Vince McMahon made Hulk Hogan a household name gave the two of us access that today wouldn’t be possible. That small auditorium had the concession stand to the left of the main entrance; the entire area was maybe 30' x 60' with 3 sets of panic bar equipped double doors at each end. Directly across from the concessions was the hall leading to the locker rooms. All athletes there for any sports event had to exit that hallway, make their way through the concession area, then through a set of the doors leading to the main auditorium floor. On a few separate occasions we staked out the locker room area and were rewarded for our patience.  


     One night we were lucky enough to get what seemed like almost an hour talking to Captain Lou Albano; I say what seemed like an hour with a memory filled by the skewed sense of time a teenager has. My friend and I were both impressed that Lou actually took the time to talk to a couple of bug-eyed young wrestling fans like we were adults. My sense of time probably stretched out that whole conversation, none of which I can remember, though I walked away with a sense that Lou was a good guy; all the bad guy stuff he ever did in the ring was to sell tickets.If my friend and I ever had a discussion of wrestling at any point during the next few years that night would always end up being part of the mix. I can't speak for my buddy Mike but I can say I always had a warm place inside for Captain Lou. Another memorable evening was the time we were able to spend time talking with Buddy Wolff on the night he was wrestling Pedro Morales for the championship in the main event. He was one of the big name regional bad guys at the time and again we were left with knowing the line between good guys and bad guys in wrestling is pretty much only defined in the ring. 


     The only time I ever saw Vince McMahon  he brought his own particular brand of sunshine with him; as he strode through the door he announced, “All you god damn kids get the hell out of my way”, and then shouldered through people in his path as he headed for the auditorium. What a peach, though the word I usually use to describe him rhymes with stick. Funny thing is he still shows everyone that same sparkling personality today. His car then was the only cool thing about him. A Chevy concept was what I later learned were his wheels for the night It looked something like the picture directly below.

     Every time I watch the Princess Bride I’m reminded of the night Andre the Giant walked by me on the way to the ring; at 14 I was already 6’ tall and I barely reached his armpit, the man was immense.  When he climbed in the ring it looked like a mattress in a cheap motel as it sagged with his weight; those old ring ropes were tight as piano wires.

     I don’t watch wrestling anymore and haven’t in a really long time, mainly since Vince the Stick made the soap opera outside the ring the main focus of the show. Many years ago I stopped longing for the days when venues were small and the wrestlers were approachable and not like the athletic rock stars they are made out to be today. I get the idea they have to protect themselves from the public; too many Mark David Chapman’s out there waiting to come out of the woodwork the past 40 years. I am glad I grew up at a time when celebrities and athletes were more approachable and the concern for crazies in the crowd wasn't as big an issue. The present day worries of our celebrity culture as they are plagued by paparazzi and cell phone cameras at every turn has widened that separation; we have brought that situation upon ourselves. 

This post wasn’t meant as endorsement of the show; it really is just about good memories with good friends. Seeing the wrestling segments on the show, which is obviously staged in a much smaller venue then the one I was exposed to, brought back that small town aspect of how wrestling felt back then.  The cast of characters on this show would fit right in at old Ocean Beach Park Auditorium.  

 ( These links still work since this post first appeared)

     The link below is to the trailer for the shows website on WGN Network. 

  http://wgnamerica.com/shows/wrestlingwithdeath

      On Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L4DjIJjLmkw

        It is less than 2 minutes long and is worth a couple minutes even if it's just for laughs and you are not a fan of wrestling. Reality TV is here to stay. 

                

An NFL Experience

     The Super Bowl has come to town for the third time since I’ve lived in Arizona; this time with my wife’s favorite team in tow. We donned our Patriots gear and hopped the Metro to downtown Phoenix for the NFL Experience; a first time experience for us both. We were definitely in the minority in our Pats gear as the train filled up with fans festooned in Seahawks colored garb along the way. A couple times chants of “Sea!” Hawks!” rang out during the trip; we got really tired of hearing it break out inside the venue too.

    We arrived to a sea of people overrunning downtown Phoenix.  This was a huge crowd; a churning mass of humanity milling about seeking football fan nirvana.  Every inch of real estate that wasn’t covered by tents or signs was being tread upon by thousands of feet. We decided to hit Super Bowl Central; they handed us a map and asked if we ended help finding anything. Thus began our typical event staff interactions for the day, which was essentially the same no matter where they were or what they were doing.  When asked a question they’d lift their right arm, point and say, “Go that way.” Not a lefty in the bunch, what are the chances of that?

    While we tried to find the entrance, we wandered by a few exhibits outside like the Street Art Throw-down, which explained why my nose was assaulted with the odor of spray paint; sanctioned graffiti featuring brilliant colors with an Arizona Super Bowl theme. There were also a few strategically placed street corner preachers with headset mics proselytizing through a PA, while others passed out leaflets; only in America, side by side spectacles of such extremes in the same venue.

     We discovered the line to get inside snaked along one entire side of the Phoenix Convention Center and almost to the end of the next; you couldn’t see your destination until you got close to the entrance. The line squeezed us down into lanes created by barriers that allowed only 2 at a time to walk comfortably side by side.  Once inside the staff did the arm thing again and directed us toward the entrance for those who had tickets like ourselves. 

                                               "Go that way"

Finally inside the building

    

     For an NFL junkie this is the place to be, though if you want to experience everything it can’t all be done in one day, because this is just like a huge theme park. The most popular events like the autograph stage and the field activities had ridiculously long lines which will eat up a lot of time.  The event spanned 3 floors in the convention center, with the main activities and the pro shop on the first floor. The elbow to elbow crush of humanity created by the setup made for a lot of bumps and twists to make your way through the crowd; stopping anywhere was asking to be run into by a little kid or someone not looking where they were going. Can you say epic madhouse?  We poked around in the pro shop for a bit then decided to head on inside.

                                         Sensory overload

     The walk into the main venue was pure sensory overload; the panorama shot doesn’t even scratch the surface on the noise, lights, and stuff that sprawled in front of us. We picked the path of least resistance crowd-wise and set off to see what we could find. What we found was akin to a NFL Disney; we found lines, lots of them, and very long too. We also finally found more Patriot fans inside enjoying the festivities in their typical low key New England way; an exchange of “Go Pats” and a smile as we passed were about as rowdy is it got.

One of the Field Event Areas

Funky old team jackets

Program from first ever AFL game

Hall of Fame ring, Strahan's 

     There were NFL films on massive TVs all over the place and they were all playing different highlights. There was a nice display of old pictures, programs and uniforms from the Hall of Fame. The busts and rings from the 2014 class were on display; those rings are HUGE. We wandered through a display where they were making and selling Wilson footballs, got our picture taken next to the NFL draft podium, and met a group of Pats fans that came out for the game.  We were all waiting to put our face on a fully equipped Pats player statue. There was one of those for every team placed throughout the place; some had lines for pictures while others were used by folks to sit and rest tired feet.  The big display on the upper level showed the history of pro football from 1870’s to the present day and had some cool old time pics. There was so much to see, we walked and walked and walked some more.  This was definitely a total immersion NFL experience any fan, whether die-hard or casual, should have an opportunity to be a part of.

Drafted #1

                                              

     We made the Pro Shop our last stop of the day. The checkout line snaked around and through the shop till you reached a mini maze of those airport ribbon barriers. When you arrived at the end of the line the cashiers waved a flag to signal who was next. We took a lot of pictures to document our day, which was a hell of a lot of fun.

                                     " Honey take the picture I"m on my tiptoes!"

                    Time for a brief respite and a selfie before the trip home.

      We hopped the Metro for the ride home, which was standing room only; stand we did all the way home. We had a couple of swings and misses trying to find a place for a decent sit down dinner, though we did witness another fabulous Arizona sunset. 

     

     We were both so tired and hungry by the time we sat down to eat we agreed we would have eaten a tire covered with butter. Everything hurt except my hair by the time we got home, though I wouldn’t have missed it for the world knowing how happy it made my lovely wife. Her smile at the end of the day made it all worthwhile. When Malcolm Butler made a game-saving interception the next day, it tied a nice bow on a great weekend.