In today’s #RandyTales, our hero remembers the squared circle and works on keeping kayfabe…
There are a lot of things that make up who I am that I don’t talk about. Things that are the foundations for all those layers that are attributed to onions, ogres, and mythical beings. The origins of some of my notable habits, phrases, and mannerisms can be found in some very odd places.
Like professional wrestling.
As a child of somewhat Southern persuasion, wrestling was the common thing that all kids shared. Remember – this was the early 1980’s. It wasn’t “sports entertainment” – it was rasslin! Wrestling was the only sport I showed any interest in – which was interesting as it was always deemed “fake”. Sorry if your “real” sports are boring and don’t have a storyline or interesting personalities. Wrestling was also one of the few things my father and I could enjoy together.
I would get up on weekend mornings and watch cartoons on Saturday and wrestling on Sunday. I was lucky that we could see multiple promotions (territories). I would see bigger than life personalities battle each other. I learned about the struggle between the good guys (babyfaces) and the bad guys (heels). On any given day, you could see a bad guy can become good with a single act of redemption. Then see the good guys fall from grace with even the most well intentioned of acts…
Except my favorites – the Von Erichs. The sons of former Nazi bad guy Fritz Von Erich – David, Kerry, Mike, Chris, and my personal hero Kevin – were above all the trappings of us mere mortals. They were like the heroes of so many myths. Personally, I liked Kevin the most because he wasn’t the biggest, but he was glad to support his brothers. He also wrestled barefoot, and I hated wearing shoes. The Von Erichs could do no wrong. They were just good ol’ boys from Texas. They fought the bad guys and would never turn evil.
Which, of course, is all bullshit. It was the story we were told, which is referred to as “kayfabe”. All these things we were seeing on screen were scripted. Sure, sometimes there was some reality in the story, but that just made the story more believable. A wrestler would go to one wrestling promotion and be a hero, and a villain in the next. The moves were real, but the damage seemed to be absorbed. These were morality plays that we could watch in real time.
In the late 1990’s, I got to meet and do some work for my childhood hero, Kevin Von Erich. I got to visit his home in North Texas – imagine a mansion dropped in the middle of a pasture with a wrestling ring out front. I got to meet his children who are now professional wrestlers. I got to visit his office where the title belts and video tapes of all those matches I loved were.
But this wasn’t my childhood hero. This was a man who had buried all his brothers (three died by suicide) and his father. This was a man whose body ached as he moved. This was a man who had to live in a spotlight and in a script he didn’t want. But in many ways, he is more my hero now than when I was a kid.
Wrestling is having a bit of a resurgence right now. While I don’t really watch it any more, I do like to keep up on it. I like to see what it is like now that the whole “fake” argument is settled. And don’t get me wrong, I make a distinction between “fake” and “scripted”. Wrestling is the first reality TV and as such can be enjoyed even if you know those two don’t really hate each other.
I learned a lot from that “fake” sport. I learned that your friends can always turn on you, and your enemy may become your best friend. The story is what happens in the spotlighted ring, not behind the curtains. Sometimes you have to suck it up and not show how much that really hurt. I learned to always have a pretty girl in your corner, especially if they have a brick in their Gucci purse.
And probably most importantly – if you can’t beat them with violence, destroy them with your words… or a tennis racket (thank you Mr. Jim Cornette).