What Wrestling Means to Me

Wrestling, to me, has never just been about wrestling, and has never just been about body slams, wrestlers' entrances, bright lights, and fans going wild as wrestlers are thrown through tables. It's been about magic. It has filled the void of both noise and color in my life in the moments when they existed the least. It's been my escape, my comfort, my adrenaline, and in a lot of ways, my oldest friend.

The first wrestling match I have a memory of is the British Bulldog vs Bret Hart at SummerSlam 1992; The Intercontinental Championship. Held at Wembley Stadium in front of a British crowd. Bret Hart, being his Bret Hart self, was cool as always, being the perfect pink and black. I didn't know it then, but I knew somehow that match was going to open a door in my life that would never close.

I have been watching wrestling since before I knew I probably needed it, and I was growing up trying to escape my abusive childhood. It was not my family. It was my neighbor. I was powerless to defend myself. I was unable to just be bigger, stronger, louder, and braver in real life. But for a couple hours, I was able to pretend and imagine I was The Undertaker, and walk through my fears. I was able to imagine I was Psycho Sid, and be a huge, strong, and dangerous person that no one would dare push around. Wrestling gave me the world that I needed the most, a world where the weakest and most scared child would be a giant.

I was bullied for being fat.

I retreated into some kind of shell. Building that wall sometimes seemed safer than exposing my true self to the world. We were not well off. There were days of beans on toast while mum juggled two jobs to keep us going. Life was tough. It does not have pyro, entrance music, or a guaranteed 3rd act comeback.

But there is something wrestling teaches, which is to play this character while the world is falling apart around you and you still have to go on and face it, and that you're not going to have the ideal situation to do this and you're not going to feel your best. The wrestlers showed me, when the wrestling ring is calling, you can feel broken and still make everyone at home watching believe you're still performing.

Then I discovered the Attitude Era. I was hooked. I fell in love with the chaos, the outrageous disregard for the rules. It was so funny, wild and most of all, alive. I needed that escape more than ever with the struggles of my teenage years. Because of this, WWE, WCW and later TNA, became my world. I treated finding any wrestling show like it was a treasure hunt, and scoured TV listings.

I wanted to be a wrestler more than anything but due to health, I was never able to pursue that dream but my love for it only deepened.

I became captivated by the choreography, the design, the timing, the camera work, the promos, the refs, the agents, and all the wonderful people behind the curtain and the intricate, yet strange, working machine that is professional wrestling. The more I watched, the more I appreciated the crafted madness.

This is the magic of professional wrestling. It is the only thing that you can experience these strong, raw emotions. I can’t stand Paul Heyman, but I respect what he does. I can’t watch Eddie Guerrero and not want to embrace him. I watch Brock Lesnar and I’m terrified, and amazed, by his freakish athleticism. Wrestling is the only thing that can make you laugh, cry, boo, cheer, gasp, yell at the TV, and literally jump off the couch to celebrate a victory.

I am thirty-seven now, but wrestling is still my favorite form of escapism. When things get overwhelming and too much to handle, emotionally or mentally, wrestling is still my refuge. WWE, AEW, TNA, GCW, Juggalo, TNT, and PROGRESS: if there’s a ring, a crowd, and someone willing to risk it all for a reaction, I am probably watching and interested.

Attending shows in person changed my entire perspective. The sheer volume and excitement and chaos brought laughter and created a feeling of shared animosity toward the heels. A room full of strangers was somehow transformed into a giant family for a few hours.

Some people seek a rush by jumping out of planes or swimming with sharks. Others, including myself, seek a rush in their own unique ways. For me, I choose to travel to wrestling shows on the bad and done in British public transport, try and get the best view, and pray that the venue has air conditioning. For me, that is living on the edge.

Wrestling has showed up for the scared and the bullied kids. For the poor kids, the teens trying to escape, and the adults searching for wonder. Wrestling gave me the heroes that I needed for protection and the villains to give me the right to scream. Wrestling gave me the stories to make my pain and suffering feel like it could be survived. Wrestling gave me the sincere feelings that I needed, and showed me that when life gets confusing, there is a purpose to it.

That love eventually turned into something of my own: starting the Wrestling Pedigree Podcast. Wrestling became something I could share with other people, and something that I could finally celebrate. The podcast helped me to contact friends to finally give them a chance to be heard and wrestling fans from around the world. Wrestling has a way of bringing people from all walks of life together.

I've enjoyed speaking to Headbanger Mosh, other wrestlers and referees like Korderas. Passionate fans and workers of this great sport are the greatest reminder that the business is not just what goes on in the ring. Wrestling is about stories and the community and people that love the sport long after the show is finished.

So, to every wrestler, referee, personality, promoter, crew member, commentator, camera operator, merch seller, and all the other wonderful people that have brought professional wrestling to life, I thank you. Thanks for the entrances, the bumps, the blood, the comedy, the heartbreak, the near falls, the chants, the chaos, and the moments that brought me comfort in my solitude.

To the wrestling world, I dedicate this love letter and express my appreciation for the beauty, joy, and all of the above. I love all the ridiculousness, the emotion, the crazy experiences, and being on this journey with you.