"A day which will live in infamy..." Franklin Delano Roosevelt
If you cannot tell by reading some of my articles, I am obsessed with analyzing moments in wrestling history and determining their importance and worth. It could be as significant as the Montreal Screwjob or as insignificant as Virgil winning the Million Dollar Championship; I love opening the annals and reflecting.
What I also love to do with wrestling history is sit down, think really hard and remember where I was or what was going on when wrestling’s most important events occurred. There are so many that it is hard to think of a definitive list.
I will never forget narrowly avoiding a speeding ticket to rush to Andrew Zangre’s house to find out who was the first Raw draft pick in 2005. I entered the house, still recovering from the shock of escaping without a citation, and was bombarded by Zangre saying, in a now ominously foreboding tone, “John Cena…”
I will never forget feeling my jaw hit the floor when Eric Bischoff appeared backstage on Raw for the first time…and feeling like a dope when my friend from elementary school who was nice enough to put wrestling on and her 3-year-old brother look at me like the biggest loser in the entire world.
I will never forget running to my porch as my parents enjoyed a quiet summer evening to inform them that Hulk Hogan had just become the third man. Even my mother had to check that one out.
All of those moments aside, there is one moment permanently etched in my memory for as long as I live. I spoke about it on our podcast that covered the entire match in its entirety, but it bears repeating in this article, mostly because of the person that made it so memorable.
That person is my sister, Melissa.
Before I get into that particular moment, I must elaborate on my sister. I take great pride in my belief that I carry a lot of traits from my sister. I attribute my comedic timing to her, as nobody makes me laugh harder than she does. One trait I am sure she would not like to take credit for is my love of wrestling.
My sister grew up in the Rock N Wrestling era. She was a fan before I was even thought of. She had all the LJN figures I proceeded to ruin. My mother took her to a simulcast of the first WrestleMania. She probably loved Wendi Richter. Long story short, if she wasn’t a wrestling fan, I probably never would have been a wrestling fan.
But, like so many people in this world, as she grew older, she fell out of touch with it. More poignantly, she started to really dislike it. However, besides an occasional “You still watch that crap…” she has never really looked down on me for it.
When I was a child, my sister was going to college and staying out of the house, but would naturally pop in all the time. Inevitably, there would be times she would be over during pay-per-views and watched along with me. It always bred interesting moments.
There was the time during the sixth edition of In Your House where Melissa joined the family in our little pick ‘em contest (the prelude to the one the Swoggle Squad participates in, but with less damaging stakes and even worse predictions). Based on name alone, my sister really dug Razor Ramon. So, she took Razor to defeat Vader. For those 14 minutes, she cheered on greasy ass Scott Hall like nobody’s business. When Razor had a game changing reversal and both Vader and him were lying on the mat, my sister implored Razor to, and I quote, “put your fucking pinkie on him! Just put your fucking pinkie on him!” Razor never moved his pinkie and Vader won, but that match was a classic because of my sister.
One year later, my parents had clamped down on me and only allowed me to purchase one PPV every month. That March, I chose Uncensored over WrestleMania 13 because…sigh…I really wanted to see the Glacier/Mortis match. When I started whining about that decision after the PPV, my sister happened to be over to save the day and offered to pay for WrestleMania 13. Thank God for that.
All of those moments were great, but they are not the moment I was referring to earlier. The moment that is forever imbedded in my cranium occurred during the 1993 Royal Rumble.
My sister and some of her friends were hanging out and enjoying my mom’s awesome homemade fettuccine alfredo and watching the actual Rumble match itself. Like anyone that watches the 1993 Rumble, Melissa was rooting on Bob Backlund, rolling her eyes at Damien DeMento and complaining about how stupid Giant Gonzalez’s outfit was.
Then, Yokozuna entered.
My sister and her friends cackled at this fat faux Japanese man. He soon dominated the match and looked to be on the fast track to the main event of WrestleMania IX.
Sensing the match was in danger, all of the wrestlers in the ring ganged up on Yoko and attempted to eliminate him. Naturally, Yoko’s low center of gravity made that task difficult.
You could see every bump, dump, truck, thump, hump and Thwomp.
19 years later, I have still never personally seen my sister laugh any harder. Tears were seemingly streaming down her face. She couldn’t stop pointing at the most gluteus of maximuses.
Eventually, Yoko would win the match and the fun and games would end, but the visual of my sister in such hysterics over a giant, ugly Samoan ass has never left me.
Every time I watch the 1993 Rumble, that image makes me smile from ear to ear, which is insanely gross and creepy and endearing. Hell, when I see anybody overweight in unfortunate pants, I laugh because I have the image of Melissa rolling.
(In all seriousness, though, Be a Star. Don’t laugh at EVERY fat person there is.)
It may be a tiny snippet in the history of wrestling, but it is huge for me because it is the one wrestling moment my sister and I shared that will live forever.
Although, who knows? Maybe I will watch Raw with her and Brodus Clay will have a mishap.