I’m not sure what prompted me to write this actual post, as opposed to my usual techniques of:
- Leaving a post in Drafts forever
- Do nothing
Many people I have admired and looked up to have passed away. Many people I have strongly considered writing an RIP post about. Chris Cornell, Prince… more recently, Fred Willard and Mark Lanegan.
So why Sid?
I don’t know. He was certainly inspiring to me when I was a kid. I watched WWF (now WWE) religiously around the time he debuted, in 1991.
In fact, one of my earliest wrestling memories was after he signed with the company but before he debuted. In the weeks leading up to his actually appearing, there were all these interviews (you know the sort, more like shouty monologues at the camera) from pretty much everyone, wanting him to align with them, be in their tag team etc.
This told me two things: firstly, that everyone wanted to add his skill/power/etc to their team. But secondly, and perhaps more importantly, the tactit fact that this meant nobody wanted to fuck with him. When he did debut, as a special guest referee for the SummerSlam 1991 main event (last time we saw Ultimate Warrior until 1992), he was bigger than all the oter wrestlers, and even invited by Hulk Hogan to share in the post-match victory flexing. A rare honour.
Shortly after that, his career with WWF started, and he mainly just wrecked those guys who were paid to spectacularly lose (“enhancement talent” officially, but known as “jobbers” to the guys in the biz and “amateurs” to those of us in middle school), soetimes two at a time.
By Spring 1992, this giant of a man had fallen out with Hogan and was on course to headline the next WrestleMania against him. So now would be a good time to talk a bit about why he was so awesome, and how he got a main event so quickly.
He was 6’9″, which was – and is – a pretty awesome fact to most people. But instead of being a big guy with a shit body like most of the “giants” of the time, he was ripped. So much so, in fact, that when we were 11, we referred to the trapezius muscles as “Siddy muscles”. We still do.
He was not only massive and ripped, but he had a mullet of tight blonde curls. That was never cool, let’s be honest, but it’s the measure of the man that he absolutely owned that look. His promos/interviews were even more shouty and crazy than most. While a bad guy (or heel), he rebranded as “Sycho Sid” and regularly uttered that he was “the master… and the ruler… of the world”. And though he shouted a lot, he uttered his catchphrases in a near-whisper, which let’s face it was even scarier. You know someone is about to kick off when they get weirdly quiet.
He not only had one of the most painful-looking powerbombs in the game, but just before he delivered it to the bum of the week, actually saw fit to yell “POWAHBOMB!!” in his southern accent. He was from Little Rock, Arkansas, by the way, a slightly rednecky fact that made him even cooler and even less someone you wanted to fight.
Speaking of fighting, as with all classic wrestlers, rumours and tales abounded about him, which I’ll touch on only briefly. He had a fight with Arn Anderson, in which he seriously hurt AA with a pair of scissors. To me, that just adds to the badass-ness of both guys. But to “real” pro wrestling fans, it made Sid forever a villain, purely because they thought Arn was better at pretending to fight.
Sid also took extended time off to pursue his actual love: softball. He apparently used to no-show if there was an important game to be played. The fact that this happened and he kept getting lucrative deals in WWF and WCW is testament to the fact that he was – literally and metaphorically – a baller.
His career was prematirely ended rto all intents and purposes when some dumbass in WCW (Jeff Jarrett?) insisted that this badass, near-seven-footer ,do a flying move off the ropes. Pointless. After some debate, Sid agreed to do it, leapt off the rope and snapped his leg. And that was it, for the major leagues.
But for pretty much the whole of the 90s, he was feared, loved and respected in maybe not equal measures. He was so iconic (and did I say ripped?) that when Brock Lesnar debuted in 2002, multiple people asked me if he was Sid’s son.
He was the wrestling anti-hero before Steve Austin really was, especially at main event level. In 1996, he was at the height of his “Sycho”ness, and plucky underdog Shawn Michaels was the champ, everybody was supposed to love him, and at each PPV, he managed to overcome the odds and defeat a different bigger, evil, guy.
Well, at this one, the New York crowd cheered for Sid over the pretty boy. They like an antihero there. And instead of being a doofus, thinking “I’m supposed to be the bad guy” and ignoring the reaction, he leaned into it. He was fist-bumping all and sundry, raising his arms aloft and generally having a great time. What a moment. And to add to that, he was booked to win the title that night – bonus.
So that’s Sid. He was great. He was literally larger than life. And he was a legend to me while I was growing up.
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