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| CM Punk (left) and Daniel Bryan (right): Two indie schmucks |
The above photo was posted by CM Punk in December of 2011, following a Pay Per View called Night of Champions. It was the night Bryan would win his first World Heavyweight Championship in the WWE. That night CM Punk would successfully defend the WWE Championship he had captured only a month before, the other major championship at the time, and the two victories were seen as something of a revolution in the company. It's no secret that wrestling is fake, and the winners of the matches pre-determined. But the championships still hold importance; they're a sign not so much that you're the best, but rather that you're someone the WWE wants to represent them to the outside world. They mark you as the face of the company. But therein lied the wonder of the above picture.
Punk and Bryan were distinctly NOT the kind of people the WWE normally endorsed. Far from the tanned body builders that seem so synonymous with pro wrestling, they were lean, and some would say scrawny. In a sport regularly featuring 7 foot giants, neither topped 6' 6". In fact, in another era, they would have been called cruiserweights - neither broke 220 pounds. Punk was bearded and tattooed, and looked more at home at a hardcore show than a wrestling ring. And Bryan was as nondescript as they come, and a vegan from Seattle to boot - he had more in common with the hipsters that scoffed at wrestling than the traditionally-imagined fans. They were not, in summary, WWE guys. In fact, they'd made their names o the the independent circuit of pro wrestling, performing in armories and high school gyms for crowds of hundreds at best. And yet here they stood, the world champs of a million dollar industry, headlining shows for tens of thousands.
That picture, over time, has become bittersweet. It promised a true changing of the guard, a culture shift within the WWE at large. And to some degree, that promise has been fulfilled. Bryan and Punk shattered the glass ceiling for indie talent in the company, and paved the way for the modern NXT, which features people like Sami Zayn, Finn Balor, and the recently signed Shinsuke Nakamura - all small guys, all products of the armoy-and-gym system. Bryan and Punk are the reason that a guy like Kevin Owens even stands a chance in the WWE, and that an international star like AJ Styles debuted in January’s Royal Rumble, and wasn’t simply shipped off to developmental. They changed things in a profound way, but sadly, couldn’t take part in this new world themselves. Punk left the company two years ago on profoundly bad terms; he’s since alleged all kinds of abuses, ranging from creative to medical. And though Bryan would eventually have his moment, winning the WWE World Heavyweight Championship in glorious fashion, he’d be sidelined with injuries shortly thereafter, and spend the next two years trying, and ultimately failing, to make a comeback. To see the two of them together, bright eyed and with so much promise, on the night of their first great victories, is to wonder what could have been.
If that image of Punk and Bryan is bittersweet, the above, featuring Chris Benoit and Eddie Guerrero, is something else altogether. It never fails to elicit an emotional response from me; frankly, I can hardly stand to look at it sometimes. Like the picture of Punk and Bryan, this was a coronation for the two men, a celebration of two wrestlers that were never supposed to make it. Benoit and Guerrero, like Punk and Bryan, were too small, too bland, especially in comparison to the titans of the day like the The Rock, Stone Cold Steve Austin, and Bill Goldberg. They made their names in Japan and Mexico, wrestling for small crowds and smaller paychecks. And yet, by the sheer will of the fans cheering them on, and by their own irrefutable talent, they both made it to the top of the mountain: at Wrestlemania 20, 10 years prior to Bryan’s rise to the top, Benoit would capture the World Heavyweight Championship. Guerrero had won the WWE championship a month before, and successfully defended it that night. Following Benoit’s victory in the main event, he rushed out to celebrate with his real-life friend and companion, a celebration that was immortalized above. It would be nice if that was the end of that story; if everyone rode off into the sunset and lived happily ever after.
A year and a half later, on a Monday morning before RAW, Eddie was found unconscious in his hotel room in Minneapolis. But the time paramedics arrived he was dead, as a result of acute heart failure. Though he was clean at the time, he’d lived what was the standard lifestyle for wrestlers of his day; alcohol, drugs, long nights and hard days. He was also allegedly taking some form of steroids, though this has never been confirmed. Eddie’s death left a profound impact on the WWE roster, who turned the show that night into a moving tribute to the man and his long legacy to the sport he’d loved. Chris Benoit, who at that point had known Eddie for nearly two decades, took the death of his friend hard - during the tribute he broke down in tears, unable to continue his interview.
Benoit’s story is a harder one to tell, and arguably the most infamous in pro wrestling. A year and a half after Eddie’s death, in June of 2007, Benoit killed his wife and young son, then committed suicide. The WWE struck him from the record books, and has not said his name on their programming since the incident. Benoit had also taken steroids in his time with the WWE; moreover, following his death, former wrestler and current director of the Concussion Legacy Foundation Christopher Nowinski asked the Benoit family for access to Chris’s brain. Scans revealed severe damage, resembling the brain of an 85-year-old Alzheimer’s patient. Moreover, there were signs of dementia, similar to the brains of retired NFL players who’d suffered multiple concussions. Neither these facts, nor his in-ring legacy, absolve Benoit of the horrific crimes he committed. They do, however, present a chilling warning.
Daniel Bryan is retiring because he can't pass the WWE's concussion protocol. By his own admission, he received 3 in his first year as a performer, and has been racking them up since then.
Watching the Super Bowl on Sunday, I couldn’t help but notice the near-eulogization of Peyton Manning - the announcers spoke of him not as a man retiring, but a man dying. A friend of mine quoted the old saying, “An athlete will die twice.” There’s truth to the statement, but in the world of professional wrestling, the reality is often much sadder. These athletes tend to die only once. Few retire, and few stay retired. Moreover, the hard life they set for themselves - endless days on the road with constant physical stress and pain - tends to lead to worn out bodies and worn out minds. This is all to say that wrestlers tend to die young, and they tend to die suddenly and tragically. Smarter fans than me have noticed this trend - David Shoemaker, arguably the best currently writing about wrestling, has an entire book on the subject.
It’s in this light that I have to look at Daniel Bryan’s retirement. It is undoubtedly a profound loss between the ropes. He understands wrestling better than anyone alive, and he’s got such a natural gift for it that I can’t help but want to see more. In his 16 year career he’s given me more joy than I could possibly explain. But of everything he’s done, this might just make me the happiest. It means he gets a life. It means he gets a family. And it means that maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t have to become another pro wrestling tragedy.
Punk and Bryan were distinctly NOT the kind of people the WWE normally endorsed. Far from the tanned body builders that seem so synonymous with pro wrestling, they were lean, and some would say scrawny. In a sport regularly featuring 7 foot giants, neither topped 6' 6". In fact, in another era, they would have been called cruiserweights - neither broke 220 pounds. Punk was bearded and tattooed, and looked more at home at a hardcore show than a wrestling ring. And Bryan was as nondescript as they come, and a vegan from Seattle to boot - he had more in common with the hipsters that scoffed at wrestling than the traditionally-imagined fans. They were not, in summary, WWE guys. In fact, they'd made their names o the the independent circuit of pro wrestling, performing in armories and high school gyms for crowds of hundreds at best. And yet here they stood, the world champs of a million dollar industry, headlining shows for tens of thousands.
That picture, over time, has become bittersweet. It promised a true changing of the guard, a culture shift within the WWE at large. And to some degree, that promise has been fulfilled. Bryan and Punk shattered the glass ceiling for indie talent in the company, and paved the way for the modern NXT, which features people like Sami Zayn, Finn Balor, and the recently signed Shinsuke Nakamura - all small guys, all products of the armoy-and-gym system. Bryan and Punk are the reason that a guy like Kevin Owens even stands a chance in the WWE, and that an international star like AJ Styles debuted in January’s Royal Rumble, and wasn’t simply shipped off to developmental. They changed things in a profound way, but sadly, couldn’t take part in this new world themselves. Punk left the company two years ago on profoundly bad terms; he’s since alleged all kinds of abuses, ranging from creative to medical. And though Bryan would eventually have his moment, winning the WWE World Heavyweight Championship in glorious fashion, he’d be sidelined with injuries shortly thereafter, and spend the next two years trying, and ultimately failing, to make a comeback. To see the two of them together, bright eyed and with so much promise, on the night of their first great victories, is to wonder what could have been.
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| Chris Benoit (left) and Eddie Guerreo (right) celebrate |
A year and a half later, on a Monday morning before RAW, Eddie was found unconscious in his hotel room in Minneapolis. But the time paramedics arrived he was dead, as a result of acute heart failure. Though he was clean at the time, he’d lived what was the standard lifestyle for wrestlers of his day; alcohol, drugs, long nights and hard days. He was also allegedly taking some form of steroids, though this has never been confirmed. Eddie’s death left a profound impact on the WWE roster, who turned the show that night into a moving tribute to the man and his long legacy to the sport he’d loved. Chris Benoit, who at that point had known Eddie for nearly two decades, took the death of his friend hard - during the tribute he broke down in tears, unable to continue his interview.
Benoit’s story is a harder one to tell, and arguably the most infamous in pro wrestling. A year and a half after Eddie’s death, in June of 2007, Benoit killed his wife and young son, then committed suicide. The WWE struck him from the record books, and has not said his name on their programming since the incident. Benoit had also taken steroids in his time with the WWE; moreover, following his death, former wrestler and current director of the Concussion Legacy Foundation Christopher Nowinski asked the Benoit family for access to Chris’s brain. Scans revealed severe damage, resembling the brain of an 85-year-old Alzheimer’s patient. Moreover, there were signs of dementia, similar to the brains of retired NFL players who’d suffered multiple concussions. Neither these facts, nor his in-ring legacy, absolve Benoit of the horrific crimes he committed. They do, however, present a chilling warning.
Daniel Bryan is retiring because he can't pass the WWE's concussion protocol. By his own admission, he received 3 in his first year as a performer, and has been racking them up since then.
It’s in this light that I have to look at Daniel Bryan’s retirement. It is undoubtedly a profound loss between the ropes. He understands wrestling better than anyone alive, and he’s got such a natural gift for it that I can’t help but want to see more. In his 16 year career he’s given me more joy than I could possibly explain. But of everything he’s done, this might just make me the happiest. It means he gets a life. It means he gets a family. And it means that maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t have to become another pro wrestling tragedy.
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