I’m Older Than WrestleMania, But it Still Brings Out The Kid in Me

Some kids memorized state capitals — I memorized ring entrances.

My first WrestleMania was WrestleMania III — and no, that doesn’t make me old, it makes me a seasoned veteran of spandex storytelling. I was there for Hogan vs. Andre, for Macho Man vs. Steamboat, and for the realization that nothing in the world feels quite as electrifying as a scripted sporting event played out live in front of thousands of people. I wasn’t lucky enough to attend the event in Detroit, but I watched it live via closed circuit at The Fox in Atlanta.

While my interests have changed and I have grown over the years, wrestling — and WrestleMania in particular — has always captivated me. Even if I’m not actively watching wrestling, I will come back during WrestleMania season.

For those of you who don’t know, WrestleMania season is upon us — just two weeks away. This year, Georgia’s own Cody Rhodes, from May-Retta, is defending his world championship against John Cena. If you haven’t been following wrestling in a few years, yes That Cody Rhodes. Dusty’s little boy.

WrestleMania is a big deal in my house. It’s the Super Bowl to me. And no, I don’t let my kids watch it, but I do mark their growth each year by taking their pictures with replicas of the two most well-known championship belts in history. Then I commandeer the living room, turn the volume up just as loud as it was at The Fox for WrestleMania III and enjoy every minute of the greatest spectacle in the world.

My father was a car salesman and had somehow managed to convince his employer that sponsoring wrestling events and TV shows would be good for marketing. I didn’t realize until I just wrote that sentence that my dad was a good salesman. He clearly had some skill at getting people to fall for — or go along with — wild ideas. For me, that meant I got tickets to wrestling events and backstage passes. I even had the opportunity to hear the Macho Man’s real voice on one occasion.

But it wasn’t always the big shows like WrestleMania. One of my dad’s wrestling contacts, an exterminator by trade who donned wrestling tights on weekends as “The Bug Man,” invited us to a local show at an armory somewhere — neither I nor my dad can remember where — and my dad got dragooned into being the ring announcer and interviewer.

There’s a huge difference in going to a wrestling show put on by a million-dollar company and an independent show at a local armory. While the production value of the former can’t be beat, the feeling and atmosphere of the latter is almost more intense. It’s like going to a minor league baseball game.

Anyway, at one point during the night, my dad had the opportunity to interview future wrestling hall-of-famer Abdullah the Butcher. Abdullah’s gimmick was that he was unhinged and his matches were a bloodbath that usually involved stabbing a fork into his opponents faces repeatedly. He also didn’t speak, and roughed up interviewers instead.

My dad was warned that Abdullah doesn’t break character and might get physical. The interview took place off to the side of the building in front of a white van. My dad stuck the microphone in The Butcher’s face and — true to form — Abdullah picked him up and slammed him into the van.

I’m pretty sure this is where my dad’s back problems began, but he wore the assault as a badge of honor. He had survived an attack by Abdullah The Butcher and it didn’t involve a fork to his face.

Wrestling taught me a lot over the years. That sometimes, the best heroes are flawed. That villains can become legends. That comebacks are always possible. And that no matter how scripted something may be, the feelings it sparks can be very, very real. My dad didn’t just sell cars — he sold me a lifelong love for this absurd spectacle. And I’ve been buying in ever since.