IN THE HANDS OF GIANTS

She was a girl in school, no one paid attention to. Mary Em…

Heavy set and not many friends from what I could tell. With a gap and chipped tooth that resembled Darby Crash. She sat directly in front of me in our JR. High School. This school was a unique setup where there were no walls per se, but more of a partition type of situation. Pretty cool for the 80’s. The proximity of her and my need to play drums all the time, led to one of those weird teenage things where we would chit chat before class, and when class started, I would let her know that I was still there, and I would play drums on her back with my pencils. Innocent stuff, kinda flirty I guess, but it was our thing, and she didn’t seem to have that thing with too many others at school and frankly, neither did I. I was shooting for the stars by trying to get the attention of a girl in my apartment building, but she was little older and a lot cooler than me (at the time).

Mary and I had another connection other than me pestering her. 

It was wrestling. 

Not schoolastic type, but professional wrestling. You know, that fake stuff!?!?!

But just know, there is nothing fake about this story. 

One morning at school, Mary turned to me asked 

“You like wrestling, don’t you?” “Hell Yes” I said. 

My love for the sport goes back, much like millions of us fans, to a time when I would watch it with my brother and my Grandpa. He had his soap opera’s during the week, but on the weekend, Dick the Bruiser, Moose Cholak, Spike Huber, Bo Bo Brazil, and many others would replace the soap opera stars. They would invade our living room and come on the TV and yell into the camera with these over the top, gravelly voices, that were not too far from my Grand Pa sitting right next to me on the couch. He could be pretty even keeled watching the matches, but I was unhinged. 

Crouched front and center, I would have various Aunts and Uncles laugh, and lean over my shoulder to let me in on the secret…. “You know this is fake, right Dean?” 

“Shut up! I don’t care.” was my usual reply. And I didn’t….This was no different than other stuff on TV, to me. 

Was the cowboy really getting killed? Time and time again?!?! 

I mean really…. Was the Hulk real? Wonder Woman? The news?

Mary Hartman - Mary Hartman was probably the realest thing on TV then.

“You know, that’s just ketchup, don’t you Dean?” Man, people just can’t wait to ruin YOUR good time, huh?!?!

Well, not Mary, she was ready to blow my mind with what came next.

“My birthday is in a couple weeks and my parents are gonna take me to a wrestling match. Do you wanna go and get pizza and then see the match with us?” 

Man… Hell yes!!! 

It never occurred to me ever GO TO a match. This was something believed only existed on TV. 

I don’t remember much of the pizza dinner with her parents, except their generosity of course.

The Expo Hall is what first comes to mind when I remember back on this night. It was where you would have a car show or something. Maybe some bleacher’s brought in on the sides, but no arena show. Yet… (7,000 SOLD OUT) 

This was WWF in the mid 80’s. 85? 

Anyway, we were seated right on the end of a row, about 10 rows back. Man, this was electric. Some of the stars I can remember that night were, Roddy Piper, Junk Yard Dog, Greg Valentine, and Andre the Giant.

Jerry Valiant was in the first match that night. This I do recall, because what happened next was something I can never forget. 

As they locked up and circled once, then twice, they released their grip on each other and stepped back.

Now, here comes the wind up and the big punch to really kick it into high gear. 

Valiant rears back and laid it in and stopped about 3 to 4 inches short. 

I mean, I looked around to see if anyone else was seeing what I was seeing and all I witnessed was a rabid crowd, on their feet, screaming at the top of their lungs. I kinda did a double take back to the ring, and then back to the crowd. I stood in the expo hall with this friend from school,  but I also stood at a great chasm in my life. 

Between, sport/showmanship, good guy/bad guy, my childhood/puberty, belief/disbelief. 

I turned back to Mary with her family and they were totally oblivious to what was going on with ME, and totally wrapped up in their moment. 

Enjoying every second of it.

Standing there, at that moment, I remembered all the people stepping on my favorite sport and telling me it was all fake. This crowd reaction was anything BUT fake. 

People who laughed when you would tell them you liked “Wrasslin”. 

But would never laugh at a wrestler in person. Guaranteed…

It was all becoming obvious to me. A moment of clarity. I had a choice to make… 

To take the dive and go with the crowd? Or my family? 

Who I loved more than anything. Then one person came to mind. My Grandpa!!!

HE NEVER called it fake. He knew and could respect that these men were like him. Old hands who had towed the line and lived through hard times. 

My Grandpa was in Korea and was the first living, Human Bomb. 

A 50 mm shell left undetonated inside him, he was left to die. Another story another time. 

It also wasn’t fake when Dad and Grandpa ended up in the hospital after wrapping their car around a tree, drunk, coming home from a wrestling match.

Back to me… 

Here I stood. The crowd noise, drowned out by all this going on in my head. Slowly, I came to be more present and in the moment until it just erupted out of me… 

KILL him! 

Kill HIM!

I was hooked. Jumped in with both feet. Drank the Kool-Aid, whatever you wanna call it.  

I was taking the ride with everyone else. I felt right at home with it and it all made sense. 

Who cares what people think of you and what you like. If it brings you joy, embrace it. 

FULLY. 

Speaking of embracing it fully, there was one last thing that left a lasting memory for me this night. 

As stated before, we were seated on the end of the aisles. If you watch wrestling, you know that when the wrestlers come to the ring, they walk through the crowd and down the aisle. Well, when Andre the Giant came to the ring, with his huge arms outstretched, it’s pretty easy to touch HIM. 

And I did. 

He was all smiles as he made his way to the ring. His hands came slapping down my way and as he passed, I grabbed onto his thumb as he went by. IT WAS SO AWESOME. Trying to compare it to something is hard. It was just BIG. Maybe an empty toilet paper roll would be close to the circumference.

Man, it seemed if I was being bounced from one reality into another this night.  

From the worked matches, with real giants? I was confused and I loved it. 

Still do. 

I’m still on the ride drinking the Kool-Aid. Believing in something, that is so real, yet still gets written off as a joke. While we all know the matches are “scripted” the injuries in the ring is anything but. They work hard to take care of one another. We all need to eat.

This is a profession I equate to my line of work ,all too much. 

Being a musician or artist is pretty much a losing battle. Tons out/little back in return.

A lot of athletics profession is the same. 

Few are chosen for that path to fame. 

Many wrestlers toil in obscurity, solely for the love of nurturing the craft a little further down the line. 

Happy to bleed and sweat (some times at their own hands).

These dudes travel long distances for little pay. They get in nasty old rings and bleed for little pay. Just like bands and shitty bars and long rides in shitty cars. 

We all do it because we love to do it.

Anyways…..

Let’s wrap it up D!

I often think back on the night I just described above. When I do, I think that Mary was very cool for including me on her birthday outing. She had no idea how much it would impact me. 

When we returned to school, we were still friends, but I can’t remember much beyond that story. 

When you are that young, there are too many moving parts. 

AGE is your ememy.

You’re busy prepping for that hard clothesline that Age is about to hit you with. But you duck it and come back with a hard right. You got Age down… Youth is Strutting and Cutting!!!

You go to the top ropes for your signature Atomic Elbow….

Flying effortlessly through the air you got Age squashed.

And then it moves! 

Leaving you reeling on the mat. You don’t know where you are. Looking up at the lights...

Age comes in for the cover 1…2 and a half! 

But you kick out. Whip em’ back into the ropes for YOUR own clothesline. 

“I’m gonna open a can of whoop ass on this Age thang” you scream.

Then it ducks and hits the ropes, bouncing back and catching you with a huge flying drop kick. 

Knocking the last breath out of you. That’s it.

You’re not kicking out for this one, it’s over. 1 2 3!!!

AGE (always) WINS!!!

Nothing fake about that.

And the crowd goes crazy.

In closing...

One thing I DID learn from this whole experience?!?!

Never mistreat or judge harshly on others for what they like or enjoy. 

WE all have more in common than we probably  know. If we can level the field we would all be able to have the same plain of vision.

And if we can meet in the middle of that field, you never know, maybe someone will surprise you with a hello and an invitation to a wrestling match. And you can celebrate a BIRTH day of your own. 

And perhaps one day, you too, will shake hands with a giant. 

BELIEVE

“No sympathy for the devil; keep that in mind. Buy the ticket, take the ride...and if it occasionally gets a little heavier than what you had in mind, well...maybe chalk it up to forced consciousness expansion: Tune in, freak out, get beaten.”

― Hunter S. Thompson