It's no secret that I love Professional Wrestling. It's also no secret that I hate it as well. It is the very dichotomy that IS professional wrestling that makes me love it and hate it. The limits that the performers blow by in their never ending quest to put on a great show equates to too many early deaths and ruined lives. So many of the wrestlers that I grew up watching have died young, and it's sad. It's always sad. No matter what the circumstances.
Today we lost one of my all-time favorite wrestlers, a man who wasn't even in the public eye anymore, and was happy enough to enjoy his life in retirement. Macho's getting a lot of love today, even people who didn't like him respected what he did in the ring and how he carried himself in life. That's the true measure of a man, when people who don't like you still are sad that you passed. Nixon didn't have that. Though he may have actually been redeemed a few weeks ago by Doctor Who of all people. Terrible non-sequitur I know, but it's been that kind of day.
I'm not going to go on boring you about how I feel about Macho dying. It's sad. I'm sad. I honestly hoped that Macho would get back in the ring some day, just as Bret Hart has done recently.
So I'll just leave you with this, a great Saturday Night Main Event from 1987, I was a senior in High School, and I remember watching this one when it originally aired.
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