Wrestlers Do Not Make Good Role Models

It took me nearly twenty years to establish role models in my life. It only took one hour to shatter them and cause me to question my existence.

My story takes place on October 30, 2009, a cool Saturday afternoon. My destination was the Winnipeg Convention Center for The Central Canada Comic Con. I didn’t go to compete in a video game competition, or to wear spandex, or to meet a girl who appreciates Wolverine as much as I do. I went to meet three very integral influences in my life.

I started watching wrestling with my father in 1990. We would watch the pay per view events, rent the videos, and go to the live shows whenever they came to town. My uncle was a professional wrestler, so I knew it was all a show.

Nonetheless I had immense respect for the wrestlers as both athletes and actors. I was enamored with the gimmicks and personalities of the wrestlers. They always had a message and I always listened. Hulk Hogan told me to eat my vegetables, Macho Man Randy Savage made sure I respected women, and Ric Flair showed me that you rarely benefited from cheating.

As I walked into the convention, I was immediately over whelmed with excitement. I went straight for the wrestlers expecting to wait in line. But there was no line, they was no one around them, they were alone in a room full of thousands of people.

As I stood in front of them my heart sank. My immortal legends had been replaced by old creepy guys, the kind of guys who expose themselves at bus stops or steal wheelchairs from the hospital.

The first wrestler I approached was 56 year old Roy Wayne Farris, better known as the Honky Tonk Man. His gimmick was an Elvis impersonator. He shook, rattled, and rolled through the 80’s. He held the WWE intercontinental championship for a record setting 64 consecutive weeks and was his own biggest fan.

“I’m cool, I’m cocky and I’m bad” he would say after he smashed a guitar over his opponents head.

The first question I asked was if he was planning on writing a book? He responded with
“Books are bullshit, are you gonna buy something or not?”

At 20 dollars a picture I politely declined, I asked him if he had seen the movie The Wrestler.

“It was bullshit, I saw a clip on a Korean bootleg website and hated it.”

How ironic that the washed up wrestler didn’t like the movie about the washed up wrestler. Before I could ask another question, he started harassing girls as they walked by.

“Spiderlady come sit on my lap.” What a good husband and father of two. I took this as a cue to leave.

The next wrestler I talked to was 62 year old Luke Williams. He was one half of my favorite tag team, The Bushwackers. Wickens and his partner Butch Milller, both from New Zealand, acted like wild bush men. They were amazing and hilarious especially when they were licking their fans faces.

He was the only wrestler dressed in his nostalgic attire and when fans approached he would get into character. Chopping his jaws and pumping his arms, posing for pictures.

As soon as the fans left he would just slouch into his steel chair and hang his head. His body looked broken, his forehead was raw from cuts, and his eyes were tired and empty. I asked him a few questions but he could barely respond. Answers he did provide were soft spoken and sad, pretty much the opposite of the character I grew up worshiping. I just wanted to take him home and let him rest, he has been in the business for 40 years. He shouldn’t have to peddle overpriced memories.

The final wrestler I approached was 49 year old Mike Jones aka Virgil. He entered the WWE in 1987 and played The Million Dollar Mans butler. He was never really a superstar but a well known name to any wrestling fan. After he tried forcing me to buy his merchandise, I asked if I could ask him a few questions.

“I’m sick of talking to chumps like you” he said.

Then he proceeded to walk out from behind his table and talk my ear off for the next half an hour. We had a grand old conversation, he told me all the places he could break me and how many men his father had killed in the military. It was one of the most terrifying moments of my life. I asked if he was married and he laughed at the question saying “I got more bitches than I know what to do with”, as he groped his genitals. Then out of no where he brought up how I will never be as successful as P Diddy. Then he told me that if he was my father he would “punch me in the face forever.”

I left the convention I was confused, disappointed, and depressed. Never meet your idols. They’ll only let you down.