Right Now...

At the moment it's pretty quite and I like that.

Now, what will I tell you today. I've got nothing.

A memory. Yeah, how about a memory.

There were times on Sunday morning when I felt like walking home after Sunday School. I always wanted to go to Sunday School because of the perfect attendance pins you got. There were some people in the church who had like 20 years perfect attendance pins and I knew I'd better get started if I wanted one of those. But after the obligatory roll check at Sunday School the television at my house on Neches street beckoned.

Wrestling.

I guess I haven't shared that with you. I grew up a wrestling fan. NWA. National Wrestling Alliance. Which became WCW which was eventually, just a couple of years ago, bought out by Vince McMahon's World Wrestling Federation, also known as the WWF. I didn't watch the WWF much, it seemed too fake. Not legit enough. NWA however had branches in Texas and Louisiana and the closeness gave it a bit more credibility in my innocent eyes. Each branch had their own title and the NWA world title covered it all. Ric Flair was the NWA champion and I liked him for it, even though I knew I should hate him because of his rivalry with the Von Erichs, my idols. Fritz, David, Kevin, Kerry, Mike, and eventually Chris were gods in Texas.

I've sunk to an all time low, letting you in on the depth of my knowlege of wrestling. One time, on a bus in the country in between villages of Estonia in 1996, I talked for an entire hour about this stuff non stop. Luke kept asking the questions to keep my mouth going. I didn't know he was baiting me the entire time. When I finished talking I looked around and saw all 12 of my teammate's mouths wide open in disbelief of my acumen of wrestling information.

I knew a lot.

But back to the Von Erichs and them being Texas gods. At the family reunion I attended last weekend I picked up one of the many photo albums, perused the pages of my family, and got to a section that contained nothing but pictures and newspaper clippings of the Von Erichs. I secretly made fun of whoever put those in there. But somewhere in some box in between the many moves I've made since I left home, maybe it's still in Chandler, there are photo albums belonging to me that are stuffed full with wrestling pictures.

Tell me it's fake and I'll put you in a figure four leglock. It'll break your leg if I try hard enough. Trust me.

I'd stay up late on Saturdays to watch wrestling. 10:30 p.m. to midnight on Dallas' Channel 11, KTVT. During the week I'd go over to my friends house who had a revolutionary new machine that they called a VCR and watch tapes of wrestling.

And on Sundays I would sin and risk going to hell by skipping church, heading north on 5th street, veering off on Concord and taking a left on Neches to my house, and watching wrestling on cable channel 39. It was from the Sportatorium in Dallas. Saturday nights was from the Will Rogers Convention Center in Ft. Worth.

I remember this kind of stuff.

I bet you never had a clue.