RIP Ultimate Warrior
by Mr. Dahlbeck
I remember it vividly, which is rare because I never remember anything.
I was nine years old, sitting in my parents’ living room when the impossible happened.
The Ultimate Warrior pinned Hulk Hogan to win the WWF Championship at Wrestlemania VI.
Yesterday afternoon the Ultimate Warrior died at age of 53, yet another in a long line of professional wrestlers who died too early.
For a large part of my young adult and adult life I have been mocked for enjoying professional wrestling. I know it’s “fake.” I know that the wrestlers of the 1990s and early 2000s were all muscle bound steroid users. I know that the storylines often resemble soap operas.
But I don’t care.
There is something to shutting your mind off for a couple of hours a week and just losing yourself in a simpler world of good guys and bad guys, flying elbows and dropkicks, and painted faces and masks. I equate it to people who watch The Real Housewives shows. You know it’s garbage, but you don’t care.
And The Ultimate Warrior embodied all of that.
His physique was not human. He had muscles in places that most people don’t have places. He was listed as being from “Parts Unknown.” He painted his face, and the painted a picture of his painted face on his wrestling trunks. His ring entrance was an explosion of energy – a sprint to the ring followed by a rope bouncing and shaking jaunt around the squared circle. His finishing move, the gorilla press followed by the big splash, was absurd because it didn’t even look like it might hurt in theory.
It was ridiculous.
And it was awesome.
Mr. Dahlbeck is the faculty advisor of BHS News