Believing In The Undertaker Is Like Believing In Santa

***This is my first article and I just want to send a big thank you to all the BR wrestling fans out there for not pitch-forking me on other articles I have commented on and I admire all of you! I love reading your articles!

It was a typical fall day in October of 1996.  I was 11 and at this juncture in my life, wrestling was everything to me.  My father was in his recliner and my best friend and I were busy pummeling each other between matches during In Your House 11: Buried Alive.  I was floored with anticipation, waiting to watch my favorite wrestler, The Undertaker, face off against Mankind. 

The match went back and forth and with each turn I was getting a little more nervous.  The loser of this match was going to be buried alive and since The Undertaker was my favorite wrestler and first crush, I was extremely invested in the outcome of the match.  I wasn't ready to watch my dreams of marrying The Undertaker and becoming a professional wrestler go up in smoke just yet. 

Much to my relief, Undertaker wins the match! The crowd goes wild, I go wild! Then, before Mankind can be buried alive, The Executioner and company interfere and The Undertaker ends up being buried alive instead.  I felt like I had just been sucker punched! My heart stops, my mouth drops open and I quickly look to my dad, then the T.V. and back to my dad, and I start to tear up. 

At first my dad tells me to dry it up, it’s just a match, until it dawns on him why I am so upset.  I really thought The Undertaker was going to die.  He starts to laugh a little and then tries to explain to me that it is pretend and that The Undertaker will live to fight another day.  I, however, cannot be consoled.  I tell him “of course he is dead! Who could breathe under all that dirt!” I was outraged! He won the match, it should be Mankind under there (I was surprisingly fine with Mankind being buried alive.) Then I saw a purple gloved hand emerge from the soil, and though I was now slightly confused, I was elated that my beloved Undertaker was still alive.

However, because of my freak out and because the week before I had come seconds away from whacking my best friend in the head with a folding chair in our backyard, my father realized that he needed to sit down and have a talk with me.  He told me that while it looked like The Undertaker was really going to be buried alive, it wasn’t real.  It was a stunt like in a movie.  He explained to me that they are trained to fall, and get hit with objects etc without doing major damage to themselves. 

So I said, “Wrestling is just like believing in Santa Claus?” and my father explained that it was in the sense that it is scripted but that the wrestlers themselves are real and they do get injured.  However no one was going to be buried alive.  He went on to explain the believing in The Undertaker was like believing in Santa Claus.  That behind the smoke, under the hat and gloves, he was just a man.  He didn't really live in Death Valley and his opponents I had seen placed in body bags were alive and well.  I was only minorly disappointed at this news, in truth I was a little relieved.  I didn’t want my favorite wrestlers to be injured, I guess you could say I was a compassionate wrestling fan.  Needless to say, finding this bit of information out did not diminish my love for wrestling or The Deadman in the least. 

Fast forward 14 years and I am still a super fan. Sadly, aside from my dad and two little nephews, I am the only fan in my family and out of my friends.  Of course my friends cannot understand my love for wrestling.  I constantly get asked “Isn’t it fake?” “How can you watch it if you know it is scripted.”  So I guess you could say I am writing my first article for them. 

Wrestling has been a part of my life as long as I can remember and aside from the historical matches, OMG moments, and countless hours of entertainment, it has been a big part of my heart. It is more than “scripted action,” It was countless hours bonding with my dad, dreaming at night, and believing in something.  Real or not, those superstars had the ability to make me forget what my dad had told me that day and believe in their pain, their triumphs and even their defeat. 

To me, it is an art.  Even now, at 25, it still evokes emotion out of me.  Watching The Undertaker tip his hat to Shawn Michaels when he retired, was really emotional for me.  I grew up with these guys as my heros and the more that some superstars are retiring the more I fear the WWE are losing the people that made WWE what it was. 

Don’t get me wrong, there is plenty and I mean PLENTY of talent but talent only gets you so far and only time will tell if the newer talent can really get the push they need to step up, engage the fans and make them believe in them.  Real or not, I 100% admire what the men and women do in the ring.  If you threw me through a table, I’d cry like a baby.  So I have always said, you get in the ring and do what they do  and then you can come to me and rag on wrestling. 

They put their bodies on the line night after night and just because someone somewhere knows the outcome of the match, does not make it any less entertaining to watch, at least not to me. To some people, my love for wrestling or even The Undertaker, might equate to believing in Santa Claus but so what? It keeps a smile on my face and anticipation in my heart for 19-0 at Wrestlemania and that is good enough for me.