It’s no secret the life of a professional wrestler is beyond rigorous. In fact, take away the expected bumps, bruises, cuts, scrapes, burns, etc a wrestler receives in the course of in-ring action.
Let’s take a look at the rigorous schedule they face.
A pro wrestler working on the road is travelling for most of the year, thanks to the fact that there is no such thing as an offseason in professional wrestling.
For extremely long stretches of time, a wrestler is staying in a hotel overnight. I’m not sure about anyone else, but for me, strange places make for restless, sleepless nights.
Of course, when one is on the road constantly, usually the only stops made are for food and gas, or stopping at the previously mentioned lodging in the city of the next planned show.
Anyone that’s been on a road trip knows gas station food isn’t the best thing in the world for the old digestive tract. Even the more affluent wrestlers that can afford to fly to each venue on their travelling schedule don’t fare much better with airline food.
Now, let’s combine these factors: Continuously cooped up in a car/airplane seat, bad food, and many, many restless nights that don’t allow the digestive system to rest and recover.
You see where I’m going with this?
This, of course, brings me to the tale of Sycho Sid: the most impacted wrestler in history.
The date was March 23, 1997. The place: Rosemont Illinois.
18,197 fans had packed the Horizon to witness Sid’s road weary intestines finally catch up to him.
So backed up was Sid, that he spent most of the match grimacing and wincing in pain. No, it’s not from the Undertaker’s vicious punches and holds, but rather from the contents of many bad convenience store hot dogs, nachos, and deli sandwiches belching forth from his lower bowels as a most unfortunate by-product of fecal osmosis.
Irritable Bowel Syndrome is a serious illness, but even the casual observer of the match could tell poor Sid was experiencing a full-blown case of Road-Raging Bowel Syndrome.
If he hadn’t done so before, The Undertaker had certainly paid his dues that night, after placing Sycho Sid in the Tombstone Piledriver for the win. Many, lesser men would have likely called an audible, and jobbed rather than to place their olfactory organ that close to Sid’s loosed bowels barely contained within the confines of his black trunks.
After that night, there was no denying that Professional Wrestling is certainly, at times, a s#$&tty business, and Sid definitely left his (skid)mark.
Author’s Note: The above is a satirical piece based on a semi-fictitious story surrounding Sid and Wrestlemania 13, spoofing Joe Burgett's contest. Please direct any complaints to the nearest brick wall, and get a sense of humor. Poop is funny.