The Only Game in Town
Hello everyone and welcome to another installment of Terry Taylor’s Perspective. I am in a weird mood lately and hope you read this with that in mind. I’m not exactly sure why I am feeling the way I am, but it’s like a part of me is missing. The first 16 years of my wrestling career were as a wrestler and I loved the high of performing. The next 6 years were as a TV writer, talent scout, teacher, psychologist, father figure, whipping boy, and 100 other roles not easily defined. The one characteristic consistent in every role was my love for the wrestling business.
As we’ve discussed, I am not employed by the WWF and am out of the only business I’ve known for the past 22 years.
This is not an exercise in self-pity. It’s almost like I’ve broken up with someone I love. That may sound silly, but that’s how it feels. We all know that empty feeling one gets when a relationship ends unexpectedly. We can’t understand why we’re not wanted any more. We promise be better, to not make the same mistakes, and to do whatever is necessary to make the relationship work - if we could just talk it out.
By then the other party has made up their mind and has moved on.
The wrestling business is a lot of things: sports, entertainment, stunt work, and big business. Along with the perks of big time sports comes the downside. Yes, there are millions of dollars to be made, yes, the fame can be intoxicating, yes, the risks are real - in the ring and out (ask Mike Tyson what fame can do to a young man’s psyche), but like all good things must come to an end. That’s what this article is about - the end, the end of a way of life.
There’s an old saying that’s so true - ATHLETES DIE TWO DEATHS. What does that mean? Very few people have any idea how much time, effort, sacrifice, and determination go into becoming a professional athlete. It’s mind-boggling. For example, while everyone is partying and living it up the dedicated athlete rests preparing for tomorrow’s training, when beer and pizza is served he must stay on his diet - food is his fuel and the list of sacrifices goes on and on. Successful world class performers aren’t like you and me.
If all this work is successful in creating a world-class athlete, the rewards can be incredible. All the trappings are there - fame, fortune, women, and temptation. If the athlete stays healthy, he could enjoy a wonderful ‘run’. There is no limit to the upside. A nasty reality about which no one wants to speak is always lurking, biding its time. What is it?
The end.
From the first day of one’s success - it’s also the beginning of the end of that success. We can train and prepare for every challenge - but this. When faced with the inevitable - every athlete and this means EVERY athlete thinks he has one more season, one more day in the sun. That’s the irony. He chose to be in the sport, he chose to train for the sport, he chose everything - except how and when he will exit the sport.
Envisioning the last season as a farewell tour where everyone showers him with accolades and boosts his ego as he says “Goodbye” on his terms. How far from reality is that? How many athletes paved the way, paid the price, and sacrificed everything, family, friends, even their health leaving bits and pieces of themselves in every arena in which they performed? Most athletes fade away never to be missed. It’s a cruel reality. There are no parades, no Cal Ripkin farewell seasons, and no gold watches when a professional wrestler retires. All he has left is memories.
For you see, when it comes to wrestlers…they truly do - Die two deaths