Mid-South was best wrestling
Brady Aymond
baymond@theadvertiser.com
I'll be the first to admit, when it comes to wrestling, my knowledge of the sport goes back to the days of Junk Yard Dog and the Fabulous Freebirds.
So, when sports editor Kevin Foote sent me to cover my first ever Ken Cole Invitational last year, I walked into the Comeaux gym thinking I had just discovered "Parts Unknown."
But after two years of covering prep wrestling at its finest, I'm starting to get the hang of this "real" wrestling.
Still, I just can't help but think about my childhood days when I'm at these wrestling tournaments.
It brings me back to a much simpler time, when the only thing that mattered was that the Dog got the better of whatever thug Skandor Akbar trotted out of his Devastation Inc. stable.
Yes, I'm talking about Mid-South Wrestling - the most exciting wrestling association ever. And that's not an opinion, that's a fact.
It's so easy to drift back to those days. If I close my eyes hard enough, I can even hear the throbbing bass of "Another One Bites the Dust" over the loudspeakers.
Shortly after, a blur runs down the aisle, diving into the ring, ending up on all fours. His thick chain, clutched in his right hand, as whatever foreigner we were feuding with that week finds a safe haven outside the ring.
My great-grandmother called him "Cher Chien." Incidentally, I became her "Cher T-Chien."
There was nothing like Mid-South Wrestling, which was as close to real wrestling as I've ever witnessed. I admit I catch some of the WWE from time to time, but nothing compares to the good ole days.
Back when pay-per-view meant you drove to Alexandria to the Rapides Parish Coliseum to catch the live show in action.
Back when a "scientific match" meant you wouldn't see any sucker-punches, and you'd see a lot of hand-shaking after every move.
Back when the Junk Yard Dog really wasn't Stagger Lee and when "The Big Cat" Ernie Ladd made you want to hate the town of Franklin.
Now, when I see "The Big Cat," my heart skips a beat as I think of how many beatings he administered to my favorite wrestlers.
But nothing can top that infamous day in 1980 when the Fabulous Freebirds' Michael Hayes did the unthinkable.
As Hayes and Terry Gordy wrestled JYD and Buck Robley, it was apparent that the Dog and the Colonel were too much for the Freebirds. So, Hayes resorted to one of the most despicable acts committed in Mid-South history, as he threw hair removal cream into the eyes of JYD.
The event temporarily "blinded" the Dog. It was the only time I can remember having to hold back tears while watching wrestling. It took my dad telling me that the Dog was going to be OK, and that it was all for show, for me to calm down.
A few weeks later, I cheered like never before as the Dog exacted revenge in a steel-cage, dog-collar match in the Superdome.
Ah, the good ole days, when you were blind one week and North American Heavyweight Champion the next. And for some reason, we bought it.
I try to get into the WWE, I really do. But the storylines are played out and it seems everything is about pushing the envelope.
What ever happened to old-fashioned feuds, like Terry Taylor and Hacksaw Butch Reed? What ever happened to good guys and bad guys?
Tune into wrestling now and it's hard to figure out who's the heel and who's the babyface. Triple H gets as much applause as the supposed babyface Randy Orton.
The local guys from "This Week in Wrestling" recently tried to bring back that old regional wrestling feel with All-Access Wrestling.
But they found out what Mid-South Wrestling found out many, many years ago, it's hard to compete with Vince McMahon and his endless supply of dollars.
It seems that organizations like Mid-South are gone for good.
At least we still have the memories. That's something that'll never go away.
credit:
http://www.acadiananow.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20050123/SPORTS/501230348/1006
