How many men must die before the age of forty under his watch until Vincent K. McMahon Jr. feels some responsibility and takes some responsibility? Let me remind you of the scope of the tragedy:
Since 1997, about 1,000 wrestlers 45 and younger have worked on pro wrestling circuits worldwide, wrestling officials estimate. USA TODAY's examination of medical documents, autopsies and police reports, along with interviews with family members and news accounts, shows that at least 65 wrestlers died in that time, 25 from heart attacks or other coronary problems — an extraordinarily high rate for people that young, medical officials say. Many had enlarged hearts. . . .Much of the blame can be placed on the wrestling lifestyle -- unlike professional sports, there is no non-contact offseason, no rest period for aching bodies. Painkiller abuse is inevitable, and, obviously, the steroids. And for what? For a company that faces no competition in its industry, dwindling crowds and tv ratings?
Wrestlers have death rates about seven times higher than the general U.S. population, says Keith Pinckard, a medical examiner in Dallas who has followed wrestling fatalities. They are 12 times more likely to die from heart disease than other Americans 25 to 44, he adds. And USA TODAY research shows that wrestlers are about 20 times more likely to die before 45 than are pro football players, another profession that's exceptionally hard on the body.
That said, a few words about Eddie Guerrero, whose past turns with drug and painkiller addiction led to his death at 38. In an industry of 6'8" 300lb titans, he was 5'8" 220lb. He succeeded by entertaining us better than almost anyone else -- through daring aerial manuevers, a real sense of drama to his matches, and through character. Guerrero generally portrayed The Sneaky Latino, and yes, it was a total cartoon heel stereotype, but my goodness did he have fun with it. "Cheat To Win" was his motto, and if that meant getting ready to deck another wrestler with a steel chair while a referee was "knocked unconscious", then, seeing the ref reviving, tossing the chair to the other wrestler so that he could be disqualified for its illegal use, so be it.
Guerrero didn't use bloody fights or physical strength to impress fans; it was athleticism and humor. Perhaps you could say that he was the Jeremy Irons of the industry, a consumate professional character actor who the smart fans grew to idolize, while rarely being as beloved by the masses as a Mel Gibson, say. (Mind you, it's been 4-5 years since I've watched regularly, so this could be wrong.) (Also, last week marked the eighth anniversary of The Montreal Incident, and if that phrase means anything to you, enjoy this link.)
Curt Hennig, The Big Bossman, Crash Holly, Brian Pillman, Chris Candido, Road Warrior Hawk, Davey Boy Smith, Owen Hart, and the list keeps growing. Shame on the WWE, its ownership and its shareholders.
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