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…And it was gone. It was not there, thus I did not notice. It was only later that I could actually feel that something was missing. At first, though, I could not tell. I got up and I went about my business as I always do, but as the days and weeks went by, I started to realize that there was a void. It was as if I would go to think about something, but it wasn’t there. The more time went by, the more perturbed I became. The frustrations grew, almost akin to what it’s like when you wake up from a dream and want to remember what it was about, only to be lost in thought without the ability to recover it. It harkened me back to the time I saw the movie, “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind,” the title of which was taken from the following excerpt of an Alexander Pope poem: How happy is the blameless vestal’s lot! The world forgetting, by the world forgot. Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind! Each prayer accepted, and each wish resigned. Only, I was not finding happiness in this something forgotten. Far from it…I was wondering what the hell was missing! The emptiness grew, and nothing that I did to try and replace the unknown was quenching my thirst for knowledge and understanding of what was gone. And then I turned on the TV… It was the USA network at 9PM Eastern time on Monday night. WWE Raw was airing live from some random city in late March. The Undertaker was in the ring staring into the eyes of Triple H. Shawn Michaels came out to join them. He questioned why Triple H thought he could do what HBK himself was unable to. I wondered to myself, “What is he talking about?” Triple H told Shawn that he had to win. While HBK could get away with not winning and still be Mr. Wrestlemania, the Game felt he had to win to prove his worth. WAIT! Mr. Wrestlemania? That is the moment that it hit me; the point in time when I realized what was once there but now was not. It was Wrestlemania…. Where was the Ultimate Warrior – the very first WWE wrestler to truly capture my imagination and draw me away from the far more realistic but less flashy NWA? The vivid childhood memory of Warrior sprinting down to the ring in Toronto’s Sky Dome to battle with the power of Hulkamania and then going on to roll out of the way of the dreaded leg drop and connect with his patented splash to earn the pinfall victory and become the WWE Champion was reduced to a blank spot. So, too, was Warrior taking on Macho King Randy Savage in one of the greatest matches of all-time that no one ever talks about. That brilliant masterpiece from Wrestlemania VII that I so often would argue was the best Randy Savage match of all-time in discussions where classic, albeit slightly less amazing efforts such as Savage-Flair and Savage-Steamboat were frequently placed in higher regard….I wanted so badly to think of that Career Match and the unparalleled spectacle that it brought to the table. Yet, I couldn’t. Watching Raw that night in March was like that scene in Back to the Future when Marty looks at the picture of his family, only to notice that half of his brother had been erased… “ERASED from EXISTENCE,” replied Dr. Emmitt Brown in astonishment. That’s how I felt. Astonished. There was no Rock laying the smack down on Hulk Hogan in the Sky Dome in front arguably the most raucous crowd ever assembled for a night of sports entertainment. The image of that guy in the red and yellow “Hulk Rules” shirt twirling his hand in the air before motioning it toward his ear just after Hogan had done one of his signature poses? It was gone. That had been one of the lasting memories of that match for me; the kind of little thing that one notices after having seen a match several dozen times over the years. Now it was gone. So, too, was the image of the 68,000 people all throwing their hands up in unison (and in disbelief) when The Rock kicked out of the classic big boot and leg drop combination that had beaten Andre the Giant, Macho Man Randy Savage, and Sgt. Slaughter to name a few. It had been THAT moment that snapped me out of the lengthiest wrestling hiatus of my life and turned me back into a fan forever. Without it, there would never have been a Chad Matthews because Chad McIntyre would never have cared enough to eventually learn that there was such a thing as the internet wrestling community, much less create a pen name patterned after his favorite wrestler of all-time, Michael Shawn Hickenbottom aka Shawn Michaels. The “boyhood dream” never came true for HBK. Neither did the classic ladder match or the gritty performance where he toughed it out to pass the torch to Stone Cold despite wrestling with a soon-to-be surgically repaired disc problem. He never made that triumphant return to Wrestlemania in 2003 to steal the show with Chris Jericho or main-event Wrestlemania XX or have one of the greatest matches of all-time with Kurt Angle or clash with John Cena in a battle of now vs. then or tell Ric Flair “I’m sorry; I love you” before super kicking him to end a storied career or have another one of the greatest matches of all-time with Undertaker or finish his career in style with yet another Match of the Year at Wrestlemania XXVI. It was like Michael Jordan’s defining moments in the NBA Finals being deleted. The finest showman to ever grace a WWE ring and all of the masterpieces he painted on the 20X20 canvas were wiped away. Even Wrestlemania IX was gone. The first Mania that I ever watched live on PPV and the spectacle of the Roman Empirical theme was so cool as a nine year old just taking it all in. Wrestlemania 22 was gone, as well. That was the first Mania that I attended live. The tremendous experience of seeing and hearing 20,000 strong voicing their opinion of John Cena – love him or hate him – was something I thought I’d never forget…until it was forgotten. Wrestlemania XXIV was only a few years ago, but it was out of the picture, too. No HBK vs. Flair. No seeing my two favorites of the current generation, Edge and Randy Orton, carry the World and WWE titles, respectively, into Wrestlemania. Nothing. Nada. Professional wrestling’s grandest event had left my memory and with it went my passion, enthusiasm, and excitement for sports entertainment altogether. It had become the glue that held it all together for me in wrestling; without it there really was nothing left to keep me around. In an age where there are so many PPVs and so many feuds and stories that get burned through in the blink of an eye, the only truly special thing in wrestling left is Wrestlemania. The prospect of moving forward with my fandom minus the very event that keeps me interested throughout the year is nothing short of bleak. It’s like having the NFL regular season, but not having a Super Bowl or having just a regular season in college basketball without March Madness. Sex without the climax. A wedding with no reception. The snap and the crackle without the pop. No Wrestlemania equates to me not being a wrestling fan anymore. …and then I woke up. It had all been a dream. Wrestlemania memories flooded my mind. Finally, The Rock had come back. I could damn sure see John Cena. Austin 3:16 woke my ass up. The dream came true and HBK became Mr. Wrestlemania. I was back in Chicago seeing Hogan, Triple H, and Vince get in their limos. I was in Orlando standing there with a raincoat watching two fighter planes soar over my head. All the enthusiasm and passion and excitement came rushing in. Sunday morning, I’ll wake up, throw my Mania 22 jersey on, and roll out with my wife to the Georgia Dome. A new memory will be created that night and a year’s worth of passion will be sparked that will carry me over until this time next year. Sit back and enjoy the ride, folks. Wrestlemania 27 has arrived.
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