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Sunday, May 29, 2016
“Would you like to watch WrestleMania?”
My cousin Kerry was about seven years old, I was just over ten. We were at her house, and the charm of playing with her tiny turtle and fish had worn off. The question left me wondering; I knew vaguely what pro wrestling was, having seen well-oiled men yelling from the screen during the business’ boom period during my childhood, but I never sat down to watch it myself.
Kerry had been a fan for much longer. “Why don’t we watch WrestleMania 6?” That sounded fine. She turned the TV on and The Ultimate Warrior was ranting about the skies and the heavens, and suddenly I was hooked.