Long live the Macho Man
By
Stephen Forsha-sforsha@gmail.com
He had a great catchphrase. He had a unique voice. He wore outlandish costumes. He was one of my childhood heroes. He is no longer with us.
Last Friday, one of my childhood heroes, "Macho Man" Randy Savage - real name of Randy Poffo - passed away in a car accident while having a heart attack, dead at the age of 58.
On that day, a piece of my childhood, and many others' childhoods, died, too.
Growing up, I liked cartoons, Nintendo and comic books, but I loved professional wrestling. I remember the days of having wrestling buddies, a variety of wrestling magazines and a haircut like Sting (the wrestler, not the singer). Every week, I would take my $5 allowance to K-Mart to buy a new wrestling figure.
I had the replica championship belts made out of hard plastic, foam and a cheap sticker that I had to Scotch tape down as it would rip or curl up.
Back in the late '80s or early '90s, I was around 5 or 6 years old, and pro wrestling was my life. Every Saturday morning, I was glued to the TV (probably with a piece of leftover pizza for breakfast) as I would watch Hulk Hogan, Mr. Perfect, Roddy Piper, Jimmy Snuka, The Million Dollar Man, Jake the Snake Roberts, Rick Rude, The Honky Tonk Man (an Elvis Presley lookalike), Andre the Giant … you get the point … do battle in the ring or yell at each other about how they were gonna beat the other one up.
I was memorized. I was hooked.
When I think about the Macho Man, what comes to mind is not only the way he could talk like no other ("Ohhhh Yeeeaaah!"), but I think about happier times … more innocent times when pro wrestling ruled my day, and my dreams were full of thoughts and images of me being the WWF (now WWE) heavyweight champion of the world.
Thinking back about those days, and maybe you are the same way, I have fond memories of friends of the past who I have lost contact with, or just the days when my biggest worry was whether Hulk Hogan was going to recover from his brutal attack by the wrestler known as Earthquake.
To be 6 years old again.
So this week, that's what I did. I relived my youth for a few hours.
Yes, I do own a Randy Savage Greatest Matches DVD three-disc set, and to remember some of the "good ole days," I watched the DVDs.
I not only watched, but I remembered … I remembered my boyhood dreams and wishes. I remembered playing wrestling with my older cousins on the Christmas Eve when our "Granny" got us those new wrestling buddies. I remembered making makeshift wrestling outfits before bedtime, never realizing or wondering why these men wore sparkled capes and tights that were more suited for Halloween than what someone would actually wear when they wanted to settle a score.
Back when I was 6, what those men did in the squared circle (the wrestling ring) was real life, not entertainment.
Thanks to men like the Macho Man, my youth was full of images of wrestling boots, championship gold, steel cages and body slams.
Though the Macho Man may be gone … the images of him pointing both arms in the air, leaping off the top rope, landing the dreaded elbow drop on his helpless opponent … and joy from my youth … that, I will remember forever.
RIP Randy Poffo … long live the "Macho Man" Randy Savage.
Stephen Forsha is the sports editor of The Highland County Press. He can be reached at sforsha@gmail.com
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Last Friday, one of my childhood heroes, "Macho Man" Randy Savage - real name of Randy Poffo - passed away in a car accident while having a heart attack, dead at the age of 58.
On that day, a piece of my childhood, and many others' childhoods, died, too.
Growing up, I liked cartoons, Nintendo and comic books, but I loved professional wrestling. I remember the days of having wrestling buddies, a variety of wrestling magazines and a haircut like Sting (the wrestler, not the singer). Every week, I would take my $5 allowance to K-Mart to buy a new wrestling figure.
I had the replica championship belts made out of hard plastic, foam and a cheap sticker that I had to Scotch tape down as it would rip or curl up.
Back in the late '80s or early '90s, I was around 5 or 6 years old, and pro wrestling was my life. Every Saturday morning, I was glued to the TV (probably with a piece of leftover pizza for breakfast) as I would watch Hulk Hogan, Mr. Perfect, Roddy Piper, Jimmy Snuka, The Million Dollar Man, Jake the Snake Roberts, Rick Rude, The Honky Tonk Man (an Elvis Presley lookalike), Andre the Giant … you get the point … do battle in the ring or yell at each other about how they were gonna beat the other one up.
I was memorized. I was hooked.
When I think about the Macho Man, what comes to mind is not only the way he could talk like no other ("Ohhhh Yeeeaaah!"), but I think about happier times … more innocent times when pro wrestling ruled my day, and my dreams were full of thoughts and images of me being the WWF (now WWE) heavyweight champion of the world.
Thinking back about those days, and maybe you are the same way, I have fond memories of friends of the past who I have lost contact with, or just the days when my biggest worry was whether Hulk Hogan was going to recover from his brutal attack by the wrestler known as Earthquake.
To be 6 years old again.
So this week, that's what I did. I relived my youth for a few hours.
Yes, I do own a Randy Savage Greatest Matches DVD three-disc set, and to remember some of the "good ole days," I watched the DVDs.
I not only watched, but I remembered … I remembered my boyhood dreams and wishes. I remembered playing wrestling with my older cousins on the Christmas Eve when our "Granny" got us those new wrestling buddies. I remembered making makeshift wrestling outfits before bedtime, never realizing or wondering why these men wore sparkled capes and tights that were more suited for Halloween than what someone would actually wear when they wanted to settle a score.
Back when I was 6, what those men did in the squared circle (the wrestling ring) was real life, not entertainment.
Thanks to men like the Macho Man, my youth was full of images of wrestling boots, championship gold, steel cages and body slams.
Though the Macho Man may be gone … the images of him pointing both arms in the air, leaping off the top rope, landing the dreaded elbow drop on his helpless opponent … and joy from my youth … that, I will remember forever.
RIP Randy Poffo … long live the "Macho Man" Randy Savage.
Stephen Forsha is the sports editor of The Highland County Press. He can be reached at sforsha@gmail.com
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