Everyone has their thing. That one thing that comes into your life and makes you say, “welp, I guess this is my favorite thing ever now and so I must obsess over everything that it touches.” For some it’s animals. You see a puppy and say “ohmygoditssocuteicantbreathahhhhh!” and you know that for the rest of your life, you will love everything dog related. Or cats. I hate cats. I’m allergic to them though so that’s okay and if you think otherwise, I’ll punch you in the neck.

There are always people who take their thing that makes them happy and handle it in a reasonable fashion. Such as people that have one or 2 animals. That’s smart. But then there are those people who have zero fucks to give when it comes to moderation, such as the crazy cat lady 3 houses down from me with 12 some odd cats roaming around her house. That lady, she completely disregarded moderation the way Dark Souls 3 disregarded my sanity. Yes, I would love to die 3847 times trying to get past that bitch Dancer of the Boreal Valley.

Back to my point, I am that crazy cat lady when it comes to wrestling. No, I don’t have memorabilia all over my house, no I don’t go to events all the time. I have a kid, get with the program. But I obsess over it like a junkie obsesses over smack. My wife used to make fun of me for it. She used to pick up her book and go to the bedroom as soon as wrestling came on. And then something magical happened. She was tired. She was pregnant and sick and tired and just didn’t feel like leaving the front room so she sat there and watched Sasha Banks and Bayley put on what I still think was match of the Year.

After that, she was hooked. Her first Wrestlemania was last year and she couldn’t believe the amount of work that went into that show. Between the outfits, the entrances, and of course the actual wrestling. I will forever remember that night that she fell in love with wrestling, just like I remember mine. It’s one of the most vivid memories I have. Jumping back and forth on the couch watch the Rock and Stone Cold go at it once again. But I had watched wrestling before, watched it from the mid 90s, but that was the moment that hooked me.

For the longest time I was a closet fan. I wouldn’t make fun of it, but I wasn’t actively standing up for it. I got made fun of for it and I was tired of trying to explain why it was cool. Yea, it’s choreographed fighting, yes the outcome is predetermined, And yes, it’s a soap opera but I would love to see someone who thinks that those reasons are enough to think it’s stupid go out into a wrestling ring and basically run the ropes for 15 to 20 minutes while being thrown on your back and jumped on by a bunch of dudes and the only person I know who can do that is my ex-wife. Heyo I still hate you.

Wrestling is a release for its fans. It gives us inspiration, hope, dreams, motivation. I watched the Resurrection of Jake “The Snake” Roberts on Netflix last night and I remember how terrible I felt when he started the downward spiral that he went on. And I was overjoyed when I saw the recovery he made. I also still remember how completely devastated I was when my favorite wrestler ever, Chris Benoit, went fucking nuts and killed his whole family and then himself. I was sickened, not just because of what he had done, but because of how he got to that point. Eddie Guerreo was my hero, but he overdosed on pain killers. That stuff isn’t fake. The damage done to these athletes isn’t fake. And they go through all of this stuff, the injuries, the 345 days on the road, the leaving their families behind and the always present boos and jeers and taunts from dumb fans who have no respect for what they do just to put on a show for us. To make us, as fans, beleive in the story that they are telling in that ring. And that’s why I love wrestling.