I’m not up on the current events of professional wrestling. I used to be. I used to know it all inside and out. The shoots. The bookers. The legends. The up and comers. Now, I’m out. Been out for a while.

And then my friend points me to this post about a wrestler I’ve never heard of before. A wrestler who has lived a life, man. A wrestler who came from nothing and had just a little bit above nothing for most of his career. A wrestler who needed a couple of breaks, just to pay his mortgage.

And like Michael Corleone, just when I thought I was out, I get pulled back in. Eddie Kingston has a story. I’m glad he told it. You should read it.