Scott “Bam Bam” Bigelow died this past week at the age of 45. More than anything else, I wish that I could say that I was shocked by a man’s life cut short before the age of 50. Instead, the more astonishing fact is that the idea of professional wrestlers and wrestling personalities growing old is becoming the exception to the rule.
I was discussing Bam Bam’s untimely death with a friend of mine, and he said to me that he just can’t watch his old wrestling tapes anymore because there are dead wrestlers in almost every match. That got me to thinking, and suddenly a burst of sadness washed over me as I started rattling off the following names in my head: Eddie Guerrero, Owen Hart, the Bristish Bulldog, Ravishing Rick Rude, Miss Elizabeth, the Von Erichs, Brian Pillman, Andre the Giant, Mr. Perfect, the Junkyard Dog, Yokozuna, Big John Studd, Big Boss Man, etc., etc., etc
The above list contains wrestlers who I loved, wrestlers who I loved to hate, and even wrestlers who I didn’t know or care for very well when their matches came on. What they all do have in common, along with Bam Bam Bigelow, is that they hold a special place in my mind for grinding out long days on the road and pouring out their hearts while in or around the ring.
It takes a special breed to become a professional wrestler, a breed that unfortunately loses family members at an all-too-frequent pace.
I leave you with the lyrics to the song “Dead Wrestlers” by the band Bis:
I can’t tell the difference
the soapbox or the stage
it’s just like the process
when wrestling became fake
genuine believers are shunted and sheltered
who will be remembered?
when they fall and they die by submission
we sing the songs
the songs, the songs of dead wrestlers
my hope is gone
it’s gone, it’s gone
believing in something
can sometimes mean nothing
conviction can be tamed
why do you feel ashamed?
diluted and dumbed down
the edit, the voice sound
my TV, no volume
I can’t hear, I just see the lips moving
we sing the songs
the songs, the songs of dead wrestlers
my hope is gone
it’s gone, it’s gone on dead wrestlers
we sing the songs
the songs, the songs of dead wrestlers
I don’t belong
in songs in songs of dead wresters
we work hard
we live hard
we work hard
we live hard
we sing the songs
the songs, the songs of dead wrestlers
my hope is gone
it’s gone, it’s gone on dead wrestlers
we sing the songs
the songs, the songs of dead wrestlers
I don’t belong
in songs in songs of dead wresters
your politics are pantomime
your punches miss me every time
maybe I’ll see you on the other side
when we have nowhere left to hide
That’s all for now – Scott “Bam Bam” Bigelow, rest in peace
