SPORTOPICS FLASHBACK 1987: Two out of three falls, anyone?

I cannot say I’m an enthusiastic supporter of professional wrestling, having only taken brief glimpses of the sport at July 1 at the Steinbach fairgrounds in years past, when the likes of “Frenchy” Champagne and “Puppy Dog” Peloquin were the headliners.

Those were the days when Dennis “Von” Mehling wrestled out of the Madison Club in Winnipeg and could be seen strutting his stuff on the local scene. Those were the days when Merv Unger was a full-time newspaper man and a part-time wrestling promoter. A role I think he has since reversed.

Those were also the times when one wouldn’t dare to suggest that the likes of “Mad Dog” Vachon or Verne Gagne would actually go into the ring and fake mayhem strictly for the benefit of the fans.

No Siree! Those guys meant it! Many a corner post bore the marks of a vanquished wrestler’s forehead and many a ringside chair was shattered over someone’s skull in the heat of the battle.

The advent of television and an age of sophisticated exercise equipment seem to have changed little. The wrestlers still meet the challenge of the corner post head-on and still shed a little blood for the benefit of the fans. And still, they all look like they eat well.

In between matches, professional wrestlers get to speak in eloquent terms to a much larger audience than ever before. They make most dire threats as to what they are going to do to their next opponent. Then, of course, in the spirit of sportsmanship and fair play, their next opponent gets to come on to tell the audience what he is going to do in return.

The Universal Wrestling Federation boys are coming to town for an event I will unfortunately miss, because I will be away on vacation. Tim Plett always gets to cover all the good stuff.

Just so I wouldn’t miss out completely, I thought I would take in the Sunday afternoon television series, Muscles and Mayhem. Not being able to stand the strain of being subjected to a whole hour’s excitement at the same time, I taped the UWF show and watched it in small pieces.

I’m glad I did. Otherwise, I would never have known that wrestlers of today are bigger and braver than those in the ring at Steinbach July 1 matches, or that a small thing like a broken arm won’t stop them on their way to success.

I was astonished to see the brand-new UWF champion, Steve “Doctor Death” Williams forget completely about his broken arm (which was still in a cast) and carry “Big Bubba” around the ring over his head, until he tired and then drop him like a feed bag.

Then, of course, if I hadn’t watched the tape of Sunday’s show, I wouldn’t be able to tell you the names of the top 10 in the UWF. I wouldn’t be able to tell you that several of them have ordinary names, like Chris Adams, Eddie Gilbert and Terry Taylor. Others don’t want their mothers to know they are wrestlers and call themselves things like “Sting” and “Black Bart” and “Savanah Jack”.

“The Enforcer” had his considerable bulk poured into an aerobics body suit that was yellow on the left and red on the right. The only redeeming quality of his outfit was the mask he wore. I’m sure this UWF star wore the mask at the suggestion of a close relative.

Actually, the hour of wrestling managed to include more violence and bloodshed than the entire summer’s reruns of the “A” Team.

If they can pack half as much excitement into a five-match card at the Steinbach Arena, I am truly sorry I am going to miss it.

Maybe I can get Tim to videotape it for me.

Get your tickets early, folks.