wrestling / Columns

I Came as a Stranger; As a Stranger Now I Leave: Requiem of Life and Wrestling

April 21, 2015 | Posted by Len Archibald

If I had a better acumen for bodybuilding and stayed with athletics instead of becoming some artsy-fartsy student of film and theater, I probably would be a professional wrestler. Honest. The industry has been in my bloodstream and caused an addiction to the artform that would make heroin addicts blush. Ever since Starcade 1983, I was hooked like someone who inhaled crack for the first time. Professional wrestling has been a part of my life longer than I have known my wife, my younger sister, all my formal education and my personal belief system. I have only watched more hours of cinema than I have professional wrestling – and for me, the two are ridiculously intertwined. I share thoughts to myself about promos, have written whole match layouts – hell, I’ve written entire EPISODES of some imaginary professional wrestling promotion that I would run. I even have my own ring name: Max Archer – with different variations of the name depending on gimmick/character change. I am hopeless.

I have attended several live shows and made sure I immersed myself headlong into them. WrestleMania VI and X-8 were religious experiences for me. I witnessed with my own young eyes the first major fall of Hulkamania AND with a more mature lens its resurrection. I have lived through the birth of the Hulkamania craze, Dusty Rhodes’ “Hard Times” promo, “Austin 3:16”, the Montreal screwjob, the birth of ECW, the fall of WCCW, the height of the n.W.o. in WCW, and the consolidation of all those via Vince McMahon. I have also gone through defending my love of this art when the Steroid Trials occurred, the downturn mid-1990s and Chris Benoit’s actions. Every time I have felt offended and slighted by the industry, something like the Summer of Punk (I or II) happens and I am pulled right back in like a battered girlfriend who only wants to be loved and accepted.

Being a professional wrestling fan is a thankless endeavor. Wrestling fans may be the nerdiest of nerds. Most of us grew up using the industry as the final stop for an outlet that involved hundreds of hours devouring comic books, science fiction novels, video games, the arts, cosplay, technology and other hobbies that turn society’s nose up at us. We bicker worse than soap opera junkies and sports fans combined at each other. Like an organized religion, we fans splinter off with different beliefs of what makes a professional wrestling event and the gods we worship. Some pray at the altar of Flair, or Savage or Race or Punk or Austin or Rock. Some adhere to the dark leanings of the Undertaker. Some take up John Cena’s initials as a literal retelling of the Christ story as a man who is effectively punished for the sins of the wrestling fan, only to LOLCENAWINS and resurrect to defeat evil.

Like most (any? all?) professional wrestling fan, I went through a phase where I hid my fandom from the entirety of the world apart from a very, VERY select few. Finding an outlet to express oneself as a fan of the art in the 1980 and early ’90s was difficult. Tape trading and pasting Apter Mag posters of one’s favorite bloodied stars was perhaps the main outlet most of us had to display our insane love. Then the internet happened and things went out of hand. Dave Metzler, Scott Keith and Chris Hyatte became stars of the new underground online dirtsheet craze. I read these men – some more talented than others; some more (WAY more) jaded than others, but at least there was a new way for me to find tidbits about professional wrestling that I may not have known about.

I stumbled onto 411Wrestling.com as a geosite back in 1999. At the time, it was just a forum where people waxed knowledge about their favorite form of entertainment. Again, I was hooked – this time because I could find like-minded people like me without having to leave my house and embarrass myself in public. I also realized that professional wrestling was FAR more wide-reaching than I ever anticipated. I met fans who introduced me to Lucha Libre and Strong Style. I found out there were other independent promotions past ECW. I discovered the dreaded Five-Star scale, the definition of “workrate” and the basics between “jobbing” and being “buried”. I met a lot of friends and formed some long-lasting bonds – with some whom I still have not met as of yet.

Over the course of my time at 411, I have seen the site go through civil war, rebranding’s and re-skin changes. All have been met with aplomb, apathy or apprehension. I was once a forum moderator (that lasted about a week), a column editor (that lasted for about two weeks) and finally a tenured columnist. That lasted for about two months as I went through a very snarky, selfish and drug-fueled phased where absolutely no fucks were given – about anyone or myself for that matter. Those days are long gone.

I made the move to the United States to be with my bride (with whom I celebrated 10 years of wedded bliss this past Tax Day…of all days) and continued to be a highly erratic wrestling fan. Throughout all this, I continued to visit 411Wrestling – now rebranded 411Mania.com for my wrestling fix. After seeing the columnists contribute and the high level of writing devoted to the art of wrestling, I felt the need to throw my point of view out there. My second tenure as a contributor for 411Mania lasted nearly two years – not only did I contribute to the usual Fact or Fiction and roundtable pieces, but I also analyzed foreign films in the Movie Zone called “Around the World in 24 Frames”, along with my own weekly column called “Hitting the Mark” (I thought I was SO witty.)

What ended my time at 411Mania back then was twofold: I had started a lofty endeavor to launch an international film festival and I was diagnosed with Crohns’ Disease. Both incidents took up WAY too much time for me to bear and I amicably parted ways with Larry and Co. I toiled away as the Executive Director for the Northwest Ohio Independent Film Festival in Lima, Ohio for three years – even going so far as to present comic icon, trailblazer (and Lima’s own) Phyllis Diller with a Lifetime Achievement Award a couple of months before she passed away. We were making good money and the non-profit was slowly gaining a reputation as an independent film festival worthy of great international work. This was my mission and life’s work. I continued to follow professional wrestling more as a casual fan.

…Then the bottom fell out.

Leading a growing film festival with Crohns’ is hard work. Doing all this as the sole proprietor is harder. Doing all of this with an ongoing drug addiction is not only harder than all of the aforementioned, but dumb. The issue was we grew too much, too fast. Similar to a dot-com business, the bubble broke. Suddenly, there were hands all over the work. The festival was beginning to morph into something I had not envisioned – and something I did not want to run. I did not want to do Sundance-lite. I wanted the festival to be its own identity. At the same time, I felt my own identity slipping away as all the non-profit money went directly towards the festival with none of the proceeds going to pay my own salary. This began to put a strain on our finances – and eventually, my marriage.

Throughout all this, my escape became getting high and spending hours watching any professional wrestling I could find. I escaped so far into professional wrestling as an addiction on top of my own addiction that the identity I had forged for myself became nearly non-existent. My wife – whom I would scorch heaven and earth for – was seeing the change in me. I, as a self-admitted sociopath and anarchist, was seeing those changes as well and I did not like what I had become. Wrestling kept me grounded but everything else in life was tearing me apart. I foolishly made an attempt on my life. I will not run away from this, nor will I place any blame on that decision on anyone but myself. It was my choice. At the time, my reasoning was sound. When I made that choice, an episode of SmackDown! was playing on my television. If I was going to go out, I would at least be surrounded by something I loved unconditionally to soften the blow.

Two people saved my life – one intentionally and one unintentionally. My wife, first off, was brave or stupid enough to allow me to live and stay by my side as I went through a revolving door of psych wards, rehab and withdrawal. CM Punk was the other.

I do not know CM Punk. He does not know me. A fan club of his follows me on Twitter, but that is about as far as it goes. He is out of the professional wrestling scene, now – but it is terribly hard to describe just how much having an entity like Punk influenced my life. I looked up to Punk as the person I desperately wanted to be but did not have the inner strength to. We both share similar belief systems. We both adhere to the belief of anarchy and see the world with logic and reason as atheists. We are both self-admitted assholes. Punk was born five days after me. We both have what may be considered an unhealthy love and obsession with all things Chicago (even though I am a Detroit Red Wings fan through and through.) I have always had ambition greater than the environment around me, and have worked to achieve my goals by whatever means necessary – even stepping on others with no regrets or emotional scars attached. What Punk had that I did not, though – was an inner-resolve to 1) achieve his dream of becoming a professional wrestler and 2) adhere to a lifestyle free of substance addiction. When I went through AA, I struggled with the whole “Higher Power” ideal. How is it possible to be clean and sober if I am asked to look up to a power I do not believe in?

I was told that my “Higher Power” did not have to be a god or gods, but something simply I could look towards to keep me sober. I chose – ironically since I am anti-corporate – the Pepsi logo. Why? Because CM Punk has that tattooed on his person and that gave me a reminder of the individual I want to be – not to be “like” Punk, but through his example of living a straight-edge lifestyle, re-kindling my sense of self-worth and identity. I drank a lot of Pepsi during this time. I needed to. It was at this time that Punk had begun his time as WWE Champion for 434 days. Punk as WWE Champion meant everything to me. It was some form of cosmic/coincidental signal to my psyche that the guy I looked up to was on top and was on top for as long as he needed to be to assist me in keeping my vow to myself to be open and honest with myself and my sobriety. The month Punk lost the WWE Title to The Rock was the last time I ever indulged in a drink or any illicit drug of any kind. I have not looked back since.

As I picked up the pieces of my life and got everything back on track, I felt it was time to explode this creative lull I had been in as well. I approached Larry and 411 requesting to return and they welcomed me back with open arms. I wrote my first column in August of 2014, just as the story of Alberto Del Rio parting ways with WWE and the racial backlash from it was gaining traction. I had a lot to say about that. I had a lot to say about a lot of things professional wrestling. It had been kept inside me for over three years. I had a new mindset about professional wrestling as a pure theatrical art form, with the same merits as theater, dance or film. The same storytelling tropes, mythologies and guidelines I noticed in cinema writing, novels, Greek tragedies and even Shakespeare I was able to identify in professional wrestling. I wanted to share all of this with as many people as I could. Some pieces have been triumphs. Some have been absolute dogs. Throughout, I have been treated with respect and feel like I have finally achieved my sense of self-worth. My Crohns’ was officially diagnosed to be in remission…On CM Punk’s birthday last year.

Why am I revealing all of this? My latest time here at 411 has been the most creative and honest I have ever been allowed to be. My goal as a writer and analyst of the artform is to shatter the notion that we wrasslin’ fans are more than what the media and even what promotions make us out to be. I am neither redneck, uneducated, nor some jingoistic flag-waving American. I am a nerd, but I am not anti-social nor do I live in my parent’s basement. I am loved by many, and am happy in my place in life. I do not only listen to heavy metal, but am open to all forms of musical genres from funk to electropop to jazz and classical and everything in between. I take it that those who read and comment on my writings are no more “types” than I am. Everyone is an individual, and approaches the artform of wrestling seriously, from a different point of view from their own experiences.

Over the past month – maybe longer, I have noticed my own decline in my writing. Some may not see it, but I am a perfectionist. Lately I have been more apt to make historical and grammatical errors in my pieces. When I see a correction from readers in the comments section, I thank them in my head and then get terribly pissed at myself for not conducting the proper research or even triple-checking my work. My own writing has been a thorn in my side. Along with frequent headaches, sensitivity to light and sound and other major lapses in my memory. I figured something was wrong and I needed to get it checked out.

This week, I was diagnosed with two major artery blockages in my brain. The artery on the right side is completely closed. My wife is freaking out about it. I am calm, though – because now I have some closure as to what has been bothering me lately. I have always felt like an outcast, and always felt like someone could crack my skull and a UFO would fly out. Now I understand what the issue could be. I have a neurologist and neurosurgeon ready to basically go in and fix what needs to be fixed. It is what it is. Shit happens.

Because of this recent turn of events, I requested a leave of absence from 411Mania so I can properly focus and get the treatment I need. I will be out of commission for some time, I assume and probably will not have the strength, or the capacity to think hard enough to write about professional wrestling at the level I would like for a while. Because I am a perfectionist and I do not half-ass anything in my life. The Lenny from three years ago would profusely apologize for letting 411Mania and its readership down – but that lack of self-esteem no longer exists. Instead, I am eternally grateful for finding out about my condition when I did and have avenues for treatment that I may not have had if this went on for another ten years. Even if my current wrestling hero declares that “luck is for losers”…I feel very lucky right now.

I am also grateful for all of you – all who have read, enjoyed and commented on my work in my time since August. My time here has been the most creative and rewarding I have ever encountered and it has been because of encouragement from the readership here that has allowed me to continue writing from my point of view without hesitation or shame. I am proud to be a wrestling fan, but moreso, I am proud to be a contributor to 411Mania. Even though I have been offered writing gigs at other sites, I have always been loyal to the website that first got me hooked and have always felt it would be somehow wrong of me to turn my back on the site that has been loyal to me throughout my trials and tribulations.

This is not a goodbye, more of a catch you all later. I want to thank Larry, Ashish, Jeremy, DeMarco, Beougher, Massive Q, Garner, Dino Zee and all the other contributors (even WATRY) for continuing to inspire me and give me a goal to shoot for to always improve my work. It is not perfect – it never is and never will be; I will get phrases wrong and use them out of context (see this week’s FACT OR FICTION), I will forget dates and get some historical facts incorrect sometimes, but that is just part of my humanity. I am mortal. I know that now. What I will always strive for is progress – I always want to be a better writer than who I was the week before and give the readership a piece that was better than the previous offering.

So finally, I want to say how grateful I am to all of you who have put up with my mistakes and my faults and have allowed me to be myself – a person I had not known in three years. When I return, I will continue to contribute to 411Mania at the highest possible level I can achieve. I would like to continue to examine wrestling as an artform and perhaps even get more into the history and international leanings of the industry. The next goal I would like to achieve – and I have begun writing and doing the research for it – is a Ken Burns-like documentary about the entire history of professional wrestling. It would be cool to see the form get the recognition it deserves – and from a completely unbiased point of view that just lays down the facts – because if there is one thing we fans all understand, the facts of professional wrestling is just as, if not even more fascinating than the fiction of professional wrestling.

So, thank you all. Thank you. Thank you. THANK YOU. Until we meet again in the near future. Always be a fan, always make your voice heard and never stop defending the merits of this artform. Because it is art, and we as fans deserve to be respected as simply admirers. I love you all.

I came as a stranger; as a stranger now I leave. The flowers of May once
welcomed me warmly; a young girl spoke of love, her mother even of marriage.
Now all is bleak–the pathway covered with snow.
The time of departure is not mine to choose; I must find my way alone in
this darkness. With the shadow of the moon at my side, I search for traces of
wildlife in the white snow.
Why should I linger and give them reason to send me away? Let stray hounds
howl outside their master’s house. Love likes to wander from one to another,
as if God willed it so. My darling, farewell.
A quiet step, a careful shutting of the door so your sleep is not disturbed,
and two words written on the gate as I leave, “Good night,” to let you know I
thought of you.

Len Archibald is the former Executive Director of the Northwest Ohio Independent Film Festival, and is a current movie reviewer for WLIO in Lima, Ohio.

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