I feel a little closer to humanity today after reading through the comments on articles about the death of the Macho Man Randy Savage. I guess the 'humanity' I'm connecting with is actually WWF fans of the late 80's early 90's ... wrestling's hay day. Back when it was the WWF not the WWE and main event wrestlers hatched of giant eggs, blew fire from the top rope and carried poisonous snakes (or a sack full of sausages?) into the ring. Back when Mean Gene Okerland hyped the pay-per-view event of the season during monday night wrestling (pre-RAW), members of the audience didn't carry obnoxious signs and when most fans were still too protective of the sport to admit that it just might be fake.
I remember riding to Madison Square Garden with my dad, his friend and his friend's son Johnathan, waving my giant, yellow and red Hulk Hogan finger and cheering as loud as I could. These are precious memories to me.
Watching as wrestlers who were almost super human 20 years ago succumb to the slow rot of age and the consequences of their sinister habits is very sad.
I consider what it probably feels like for a non fan to see a fan heartbroken over the death of a beloved pro-wrestling star ... it must seem silly.
Rest in peace, Macho Man ... thank you for the memories, I hope God has accepted you into his Kingdom and that you are carrying Miss Elizabeth on your shoulder amongst the clouds.
