Saturday, October 11, 1997
The business killed Brian Pillman
By BRET "THE HIT MAN HART"
For the Calgary Sun
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A lot of guys live for this bizarre business.
That might not be their intention, but they fall in love with her and by
the time love turns to a familiar seductress, they're addicted. Addicted
to the action and the admiration.
Accustomed to a lifestyle where the miles behind you in the morning
deceive you into thinking you're unaccountable for what you did last
night.
There's no off-season, no time out, valor gets attached to martyrdom.
You look for ways to endure the physical pain of a broken body and
hope you don't become so numb that you end up with a broken spirit.
In the ring, you're a superhero and you search down deep inside to
make that strength real. It's dangerous to forget that even Superman
had his kryptonite.
Guys come into this business with a dream that they'll hang around for
a few years and make the quick bucks but then they find out it's Hotel
California, "You can check out any time you like but you can never
leave."
They can't make it on the outside anymore. And some die on the
inside. Fatalities in the ring are rare. They die alone in the little, square
room they slept in a thousand miles from what used to feel like home.
Loneliness is a greater pain than all your toughest fights.
The boys and the crew checked out of the hotel near St. Paul, Minn.
last Sunday and each of us travelled all the way to the arena in St.
Louis before anyone even asked, "Where's Brian?"
We didn't even know we'd left him behind. It's been almost a week
since my friend Brian Pillman died in his sleep. It amazes me that the
wrestling fans and reporters are anxiously awaiting the results of the
autopsy to find out what killed him. Exactly which pain medicine was
it, how much did he take? What weakened the heart of a 35-year-old
athlete enough so it stopped beating? Trying to figure out the little
details distract you from having to look at the big picture. The business
killed Brian Pillman and it could have been any one of us. That she got
Brian is especially sad since he fought so hard at life when he beat
cancer as a kid. And since he left five kids with no father.
I don't think it's necessary or appropriate to summarize Brian's life and
career in the space of a column.
When my own time comes, I hope the reports will say more than just
my win/loss record in the ring and that they'll talk more about my wins
and losses in life.
I've tried to let you all get to know me better than just my stats. I
won't insult Brian by minimizing him into a bunch of statistics. Of
course, he was a damn good wrestler -- he came right out of the
infamous Hart family dungeon!
If you want to see the best of Brian Pillman, the wrestler, go and get
yourself some tapes of Bad Company or The Hollywood Blondes or
how Flyin' Brian fought Ric Flair to a time limit draw years ago.
If you never got to know the best of Brian Pillman, the person, the
thing that stood out most to me about Brian was his wicked sense of
humor. It isn't easy to make a bunch of road-weary guys who have
"been there, done that" laugh -- and Brian did. Then again, they say
clowns have the most pain inside.
The next time someone asks you why you watch wrestling cause that
stuff isn't real -- those guys don't get hurt, do me a favor: Tell them
those guys do get hurt -- and sometimes they die out there.
Brian never got the chance to call home last Sunday, so he went to
sleep not knowing that his wife Melanie is pregnant. They say for each
door God closes, that he opens another one. Brian is flyin' with the
angels now. Good bye, brother. Leave some passes at the gate.
