I’m rarely at a loss for words, and truly, after this WrestleMania… I feel like I should be after witnessing what I just did…
WrestleMania XXXIII (or 33 for those who don’t speak roman numerals), is in the books. After the dust settled, we found ourselves with a slew of new champions. (Owens, Orton, Lesnar, Naomi, The Hardys… wait, did I mention The Hardys?)
We had the end of the fairy tale, and the Last Ride of The Dead Man.
This WrestleMania will go down in the annuls of time for many reasons:
- Shane McMahon cementing his place, like it or not, in the WWE Hall of Fame.
- CGI making its debut in pro wrestling.
- The gender bending of an entrance between father and daughter.
- A super jacked up Canadian playing an Indian get his face blasted off by a trained polar bear who plays for the New England Patriots.
Ultimately, of all the things that were seen at this WrestleMania, (including Stephanie McMahon’s glorious ass in black leather…) we saw a man do something that very few ever do: make a literal example of leaving themselves in the ring, one final time.
Make no mistake, Mark Calaway did that tonight, and in doing so he left us a legacy and a masterpiece out of a match that was not truly marked in either one of those.
Above all else, he, and he alone, elevated something that should not be into something that can never be forgotten. Stand and pay your respects for The Dead Man, for you shall never see his like again.
At least… until WrestleMania XXXIV… maybe…
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