Goldberg, Revenge and a Stick Horse named Pepe

I've always found it funny what my brain chooses to remember and what it forgets. How does the subconscious decide what's too important to disregard, and what is useless? Good example : why am I able to remember things like the starting lineup for the 1999 Portland Trail Blazers, but not the ionic number for Uranium?

I have a hard time remembering specific events from High School. But I can tell you the whole plot of a random short story I wrote during that time. I can tell you the shirt I wore three years ago on a date, but not be able to tell you what the name was of the girl I was on the date with.

That being said, I'm not confused over the fact that I can distinctly remember the first time I witnessed people excited over Professional wrestling. I just think it's odd. Not because it was almost 15 years ago. Mainly because I wasn't even in the room watching wrestling when it happened.

Here is what happened: It was June 6 1998. I know this date is factual because I was at my buddy Seans house with him, my brother Jesse, his brother Ty and we were watching the MLB Home Run Derby that night at Coors Field (Griffey won, suck it).

Later that night, after Griffey had accepted his trophy, we were down stairs doing the childhood thing and getting ready for bed. Then out of know where, Seans crazy dad came into the room yelling, "Goldberg is fighting Hogan. Goldberg is fighting Hogan!" Jesse and Tyler freaked out and followed the dad back up stairs. I was too cool for that. Hulk Hogan? Seriously? I mean wrestling was gay. Also, what the fuck was a Goldberg?

Apparently Sean could tell by my facial expression I had no knowledge of this 'Goldberg'. "Dude, Goldberg is undefeated." Sean said quietyly. I remember him vividly being quiet as we sat in his room playing with his action figures. I'm sure he wanted to run up there with our brothers, but didn't want to risk looking un cool in front of me. I never ended up going up there, despite the yelps of extacy that came from atop the stairs. I believe Sean ended up doing it. To this day I regret this decision.

In fact, 24 year old me wishes he could beat the piss out of 11 year old me. Believe that. What I missed was a watershed moment in the history of wrestling. I missed Goldberg stomping his inflated undefeated record into a sold out Georgia Dome for his first World Title match. I missed Hollywood Hogan actually putting somebody over (Hogan gets alot of shit for using his backstage power, and not putting people over. But you gotta give him credit here). I missed Tony Schiavone losing his shit calling the match. I missed the Jack Hammer that shocked the Wrestling World and gave Goldberg his first World Championship.

What a stupid little kid I was.

Why? Well because no more then 4 months later, right before Goldbers first title run ended to Kevin Nash (and Scott Hall's Tazer) at Starcade, I became hooked on pro wrestling.

My love affair with the SPORT of professional wrestling started from simple beginings. It was all because I was a self concious 7th graded who just wanted to be cool. The 8th graders liked wrestling. I wanted to hang out with the 8th graders. My mission became simple: I had to figured out what was so cool about wrestling.

So I checked out an episode of WCW programing. It was an episode of WCW Saturday Night. I remember four things. Norman Smiley, and his taunt, 'the big wiggle'. Disco Inferno, a homo with permed hair who wore gay bell bottoms. A loud mouthed Jackass with big blonde hair named Chris Jericho, and lastely, Chavo Guerrero, a card carrying member of the LWO (Latino World Order) and a guy who came to the ring on a stick horse named Pepe. A STICK HORSE! Oh, how I loved Pepe.

Despite my mothers objections (and they were many), I quickly became a wrestling junkie. It wasn't my fault, wrestling simply offered an addictive formula for me as 13 year old. Violence, video games and skanky chicks. That right there is the holy trinity of developing early teenaged male followers.

By 14 (staying true to the form of a junkie), I had upgraded to a harder drug-The WWF. I had grown tired of what WCW was offering and when my mom wasn't looking, I would flip from Nitro over to Raw. My mom had since given into the fact that we were watching wrestling. She still wasn't cool with it, more like she just accepted it. Because of that acceptance, we had a somewhat unspoken agreement that it was cool because WCW didn't garnish the type of negative attention that WWF did back then.

WWF was where X Pac would tell people to 'suck it' 127 times an episode. WWF was where Vince McMahon exposed his bare ass for people to kiss. WWF is where Miss Kitty came out in a bikini made of bubble wrap. WWF was where the tv got changed to. And it didn't leave.

Still to this day I am an avid watcher of professional wrestling. Not so much the WWE (earlier in this decade they got sued and lost to the World Wildlife Foundation and were told to "get the 'f' out") because they have moved to more family friendly programing.

It's not that I don't like it, it's just hard to watch Raw now and not compare it to what it used to be (they have since took away the skanky women, blood and bad language). Ok, I lied. I fucking hate it. I mean who watches wrestling to not see blood? It's not the same. Case and point: What would the "Die Hard" movies have been like if John McClain didn't end up wearing blood soaked T-Shirts in each one of them? Boring as balls, thats what.

I really could write a book focusing on just my theories and opinions on WWE's "PG" programing, but I'll resist. Thats for another chapter on another day (if I remember).