Pro wrestlers…they are storytellers. They use the ring as their canvas, their blank page, to entertain, amuse and shock us.

Whether it’s a Hulk Hogan legdrop on a giant, or it’s “The Chairshot Heard Around the World”, it’s hard to look at professional wrestlers as anything other than artists.

But the ring…that’s just their public persona. No matter how blurred the lines may be nowadays, regardless of the Reality of it all, there is still a curtain.
And when these superhumans step behind the curtain, they’re humanised. They’re just like us. Men and women growing up, falling in love, providing for family. They have their dreams and their fears, their passions and their pet peeves.
They’re just as ordinary as you and I are.

And that’s why it’s so sad when I hear of a wrestler dying. I am a human being above everything else, and when I hear that a wrestler has shed their mortal coil, it’s like a family member of mine has just left this world.
Somebody who I didn’t know the slightest about, but who grew up on my TV screen. Who created moments that I’ll forever treasure and hold dear. Moments I’ll look back upon and smile, as they remind me of a time long gone.

In a world that has increasingly become cynical, we need heroes. We need people who will conquer and prove to us that our childhood hunches were right- good really does defeat evil.
Look at moments like Jeff Hardy finally being WWE Champion, or Sami Zayn finally capturing the NXT Championship. Then there’s Daniel Bryan vanquishing the Authority.
There’s magic in these moments. An irreplaceable, irrefutable kind of magic created by these once-in-a-lifetime kind of performers.

When they die, a part of me dies too. My innocence, my childhood, my naivete…it all goes.

So thank them while you still have the chance. Tweet them, cheer for them, love them. We don’t have forever.


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