Showcase of Champions

Caleb Konley vs PJ Black, Showcase of Champions, 23 November 2018, Winston-Salem (WrestleCade)

Bob Orton Jr. had an itch inside his nose, which he dug into before realizing I could see him doing it. He was using the same hand to autograph a photo taken approximately 45 years ago. "Snot from the great man himself," I quipped, and he laughed. When I told him I remembered him from Florida in the early 1970s, he beamed, as if his head were awash with memories of those days. He asked my age and then noted he was three years older - it seemed like we were reuniting as old friends, though we had never seen each other before. (Earlier, I had confessed to Jerry Lynn I missed the old school of wrestling, and he said, "Me, too," almost as if he'd just realized it.)

The FanFest on Saturday was a heady experience for me - speaking face to face with old stars (Harley Race and Bob Backlund) and new (Jamie Senegal and Andrew Everett). I thanked Senegal for so boldly "representing," and reminded Everett that I first saw him as the masked Chiva Kid, to which he marveled over how long ago that was and I was thinking it was like yesterday. I paid big money for photo opportunities with Kevin Nash and Buff Bagwell, but got them for free from younger wrestlers like Everett and Matt Cage, so it evened out, I guess (I did buy autographed glossies from all four as well). Backlund, as ebullient as he ever was in the ring, told me to keep a positive mindset, earnestly as if my life depended on it. Matt Taven assured me I was not a Melvin. I could name-drop some more, just so you know, but I don't want to come off like an asshole.

I had a front row seat for the first of WrestleCade's four events; I only managed general admission tickets to two others, substantially reducing my ability to observe the fine details of wrestlers' moves, humiliations, and bulges. At the Friday evening show, the main event made the biggest impression. The last contest featured two personal favorites, Caleb Konley and PJ Black, sometimes known as Justin Gabriel - both men in the best shape I've seen them in. They reminded me what I love about pro wrestling, old school and new school - big muscle, pretty faces, sweat, actual grappling moves interspersed with grander acrobatics, the rolling thunder of bodies bounding across a ring, and rising and falling dramatic tensions drawing to a big finish. For my money, few things were grander than the way Caleb's trunks inched up his glutes. Significantly, Caleb was in the first live wrestling show I saw, almost seven years ago. (I had mentioned the meeting at an AML show in September, and he remembered the name of the bar that served as the venue.) Black worked the crowd, making us love him and hate him by turns, just as the gods of championship wrestling intended.*

My Thanksgiving weekend photo album:

* Last night I watched dumbstruck as Caleb lost his AML championship belt through a twist of fate, in part, but mostly through the devious maneuverings of the new champ, George South, an old-timer like me and Bob Orton, Jr., only not as old.

For information on upcoming WrestleCade Weekend events, go here.
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