Wednesday, October 3, 2012
Who shook the Valley of the Shadow
Wrestling was never about the fights, though, yes, I flying suplexed my brother any time I could climb on to the couch without anyone noticing. Wrestling was Macho Man Randy Savage's wedding in the ring. It was Sting going bad, Lex Luger going good. It was Cactus Jack gone missing and proof that, yes, life was really all good and evil. At 8 or 9 or even 12, I did not believe in a subtle in between. God didn't teach that and neither did wrestling.
When the pay-per-view fights rolled around, our lack of subscription didn't stop me. Sure, I longed for the kind of money that would make the screen come to life. What's $39.99 to a kid?
But my parents couldn't afford to rent The Royal Rumble, so my little brother and I crawled close as we could to the TV, laid flat with our ears flush against the speakers. The screen snowed white, but I could see the whole story in my head.