RIP--Bam Bam Bigelow

Although I'm a huge fan of pro wrestling, I don't speak a lot about it on the blog. Last week, though, one of the great super-heavyweights, Scott Bigelow (aka Bam Bam Bigelow), passed away from as yet undisclosed causes. He was 45 years old. While he was never the biggest star in the industry at any point, and had been essentially out of wrestling for the past five years or so, he was phenomenally athletic for his size and was able to lead much worse performers (including Lawrence Taylor in the main event of a Wrestlemania) to very acceptable matches. He was safe in the ring and menacing on the mic, mostly for his real claim to fame: a bald skull riddled with tattoos, and deserved a lot more than he got.

Unfortunately, over the past decade, the mortality rate of pro wrestlers has gone down and down. As a result of the travel, the drugs, and the general beating the body takes in this industry, these athletes' bodies are shot much before their time. I don't know what killed Bam Bam but, given the history of these issues, it was either drugs or heart failure (which is often the result of years of drug and steroid abuse). Because pro wrestling, as much as I love the art, is a love 'em and leave 'em kind of industry, those who are no longer capable of working have no means to support themselves, no health insurance, no pension, nothing. There has always been talk in the business of supporting a union, but too many are afraid of blackballing to stand behind it. So it goes on and on, wrestlers die in the gutter because they broke their bodies giving their fan's a great time and making loads of money for their scumbag promoters. A real pity, but not just for Bam Bam and his family. This will go on, wrestlers will die, there'll be a "ten bell salute" to honor them, then they'll go on with the show and forget.