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Benny and June
Jun. 25th, 2008 06:01 pmA year ago...
Wrestling is like ice skating or gymnastics-- most everyone can perform a basic move or two, but the way some people do it, it's honor to have seen them. Chris Benoit was one of those. The way he wrestled--the precision and flow and rhythm-- legitimized my fangirling. He made it so easy to believe.
And that’s the thing with wrestling. We know it’s fake; we want to believe. We're willing to believe. Oh the lengths we'll go to to keep believing, even when these days the standard operating procedure towards fans is shut up and buy whatever we tell you But with Benoit, man, every time he got a foot on the rope, every time he rubbed his sternum and tried to catch his breath after a take-down, every time he chopped someone and it echoed like gunshot and his opponent’s chest went insty bright red, I believed.
Beyond the spectacle, Benoit's "story" meant so much to me. He was undersized and supposedly undercharismatic. He dared to mat wrestle in front of casual audiences, and he got standing ovations for it. He chose to pursue greatness in a business that rewards mediocrity. His talent and his perseverance meant I would cheer for him. Always.
Of course, I took half-facts and bits of gossip and spun it into a story I wanted to hear. That's what fangirls do. And the task was made all the easier by Benoit being an eerily quiet celebrity. No websites, blogs or a myspace. He almost never showed up in dirt sheets, and on those rare occasions he did the stories were business moves. How much of my perception was real and how much of it was merely the image of Benoit I created?
And as long he did nothing to contradict his pristine image, I was happy not to seek smudges. I was happy to believe he'd be forever strong and righteous. He was grit and grace and a wrestling god.
Except, I guess not. He was a guy with dead friends and an aging body. He was a guy with millions of fans and no one to confide in. He was a guy with escalating mental diseases, and he spent 5 days a week taking brain-rattling slams to the head. Worst of all, he lived the remaining hours of those days in within an insular business where evidence that Randy Orton can’t behave like a human being is repeatedly dismissed; where Matt Hardy feels it’s a-okay to go online and post video of himself shooting effigies of women; where JBL is hailed as a “locker room leader” for terrorizing rookies in the shower room; where Wellness Programs exist for publicity reasons, not for ensuring the well-being of wrestlers.
That tribute show match with Malenko. Nancy and Miss Elizabeth at ringside... 3 out of those 4 people are dead. That 2004 Royal Rumble match they showed-- out of the 6 guys in the finale, 3 (RVD, Chris Jericho, and Big Show) walked out of the business claiming they needed to rest their bodies. Another, Kurt Angle, was released before he could die onstage. Benoit died off-stage. Only the youngest, John Cena, remains on WWE's hamster wheel.
With so many opportunities, it's no wonder Something So Very Wrong found a hidey hole inside Benoit's brain, and then found a way to take over.
The Chris Benoit I cherished all these years is not the same Chris Benoit who murdered his wife and child. Every detail coming out Georgia shows how badly Benoit's mind was unhinged. I can’t hate Benoit for becoming damaged. Hate is useless right now, anyways. Nancy and Daniel need our grief. The next wrestler surging out of control needs our help; the loved ones of the next wrestler need our protection.
I hope Chris' soul has found solace and that he’s been relieved of all the agony he bore and dealt. I want that for him because despite his horrible crimes, he isn't evil. Evil doesn't hang itself on a weightmachine cable. Misery does.
Godspeed Benny.
Today...
I had one of the early news article about Benoit pinned to the wall of my cube. I took it down today. Put it in a drawer. When I pinned it up, I needed it there. Benoit's gone, and it mattered. It made the papers.
For horrible reasons, for the worst reasons. But I needed the acknowledgement. Benoit was gone, and he mattered so fucking much to me. And, the luridness surrounding his last deeds gave me a chance to talk about him the way I never got a chance to talk about Owen or Eddie.
I needed to talk about Chris. The shock, the loss, the total fucking waste of three lives. More than three, really. Chris was a lynchpin. He was mainevent, he was cruiserweight. He was superstar, he was underpushed. He got the big belt, he got dicked over on the belts. He was one of the Canadian Chrises, a Radical, a pivotal member of the 1990's Big Three. He's gone, and nearly all that's fallen apart or dust now.
I miss him. I miss fangirling Rolling Germans. I miss what he did for wrestling. I miss adoring him without mourning two other people who adored him too.
Wrestling is like ice skating or gymnastics-- most everyone can perform a basic move or two, but the way some people do it, it's honor to have seen them. Chris Benoit was one of those. The way he wrestled--the precision and flow and rhythm-- legitimized my fangirling. He made it so easy to believe.
And that’s the thing with wrestling. We know it’s fake; we want to believe. We're willing to believe. Oh the lengths we'll go to to keep believing, even when these days the standard operating procedure towards fans is shut up and buy whatever we tell you But with Benoit, man, every time he got a foot on the rope, every time he rubbed his sternum and tried to catch his breath after a take-down, every time he chopped someone and it echoed like gunshot and his opponent’s chest went insty bright red, I believed.
Beyond the spectacle, Benoit's "story" meant so much to me. He was undersized and supposedly undercharismatic. He dared to mat wrestle in front of casual audiences, and he got standing ovations for it. He chose to pursue greatness in a business that rewards mediocrity. His talent and his perseverance meant I would cheer for him. Always.
Of course, I took half-facts and bits of gossip and spun it into a story I wanted to hear. That's what fangirls do. And the task was made all the easier by Benoit being an eerily quiet celebrity. No websites, blogs or a myspace. He almost never showed up in dirt sheets, and on those rare occasions he did the stories were business moves. How much of my perception was real and how much of it was merely the image of Benoit I created?
And as long he did nothing to contradict his pristine image, I was happy not to seek smudges. I was happy to believe he'd be forever strong and righteous. He was grit and grace and a wrestling god.
Except, I guess not. He was a guy with dead friends and an aging body. He was a guy with millions of fans and no one to confide in. He was a guy with escalating mental diseases, and he spent 5 days a week taking brain-rattling slams to the head. Worst of all, he lived the remaining hours of those days in within an insular business where evidence that Randy Orton can’t behave like a human being is repeatedly dismissed; where Matt Hardy feels it’s a-okay to go online and post video of himself shooting effigies of women; where JBL is hailed as a “locker room leader” for terrorizing rookies in the shower room; where Wellness Programs exist for publicity reasons, not for ensuring the well-being of wrestlers.
That tribute show match with Malenko. Nancy and Miss Elizabeth at ringside... 3 out of those 4 people are dead. That 2004 Royal Rumble match they showed-- out of the 6 guys in the finale, 3 (RVD, Chris Jericho, and Big Show) walked out of the business claiming they needed to rest their bodies. Another, Kurt Angle, was released before he could die onstage. Benoit died off-stage. Only the youngest, John Cena, remains on WWE's hamster wheel.
With so many opportunities, it's no wonder Something So Very Wrong found a hidey hole inside Benoit's brain, and then found a way to take over.
The Chris Benoit I cherished all these years is not the same Chris Benoit who murdered his wife and child. Every detail coming out Georgia shows how badly Benoit's mind was unhinged. I can’t hate Benoit for becoming damaged. Hate is useless right now, anyways. Nancy and Daniel need our grief. The next wrestler surging out of control needs our help; the loved ones of the next wrestler need our protection.
I hope Chris' soul has found solace and that he’s been relieved of all the agony he bore and dealt. I want that for him because despite his horrible crimes, he isn't evil. Evil doesn't hang itself on a weightmachine cable. Misery does.
Godspeed Benny.
Today...
I had one of the early news article about Benoit pinned to the wall of my cube. I took it down today. Put it in a drawer. When I pinned it up, I needed it there. Benoit's gone, and it mattered. It made the papers.
For horrible reasons, for the worst reasons. But I needed the acknowledgement. Benoit was gone, and he mattered so fucking much to me. And, the luridness surrounding his last deeds gave me a chance to talk about him the way I never got a chance to talk about Owen or Eddie.
I needed to talk about Chris. The shock, the loss, the total fucking waste of three lives. More than three, really. Chris was a lynchpin. He was mainevent, he was cruiserweight. He was superstar, he was underpushed. He got the big belt, he got dicked over on the belts. He was one of the Canadian Chrises, a Radical, a pivotal member of the 1990's Big Three. He's gone, and nearly all that's fallen apart or dust now.
I miss him. I miss fangirling Rolling Germans. I miss what he did for wrestling. I miss adoring him without mourning two other people who adored him too.
