I was six years old when I first discovered the beautiful world of professional wrestling. Up until that time, it was all fairy tales, beautiful princesses, and far away magical kingdoms. Almost immediately though, wrestling became that magical kingdom, and instead of existing far away and only in my dreams, it was very real and new stories found me every single week! The credit for how quickly I fell in love with it is shared by a special few.
I had the most wonderful teacher who shared so graciously his lifelong love of it all. I heard undeniable passion in the voices of the commentators who made it seem even more exciting than it had any right to be. And lastly, the men and women on screen. The storytellers themselves. It didn’t take me long to understand that every word and every action furthered the narrative. I’d look for subtle cues and rejoice when good triumphed over evil, as it was meant to do. I adored the babyfaces, almost exclusively in fact, but there was one man who though a very bad man on screen, could smile and win me over without fail.
THE bad guy himself. Scott Hall.
He exuded “cool.” That’s what I remember most, second to his smile. At a highly innocent six years old, I couldn’t imagine ever being as cool as the Lone Wolf. He said what he wanted, did what he wanted, beat who he wanted, and smiled as he did it. Looking back and reflecting on everything that’s happened in wrestling since, he’s one guy I could never imagine playing a babyface. It simply didn’t fit. To be honest, he’d probably have done extremely well if he was breaking into the business today. He could walk that line and exist in the grey area that’s now so commonplace perfectly.
Even though he did bad things to good people, we cheered him. I can’t be alone in that. He’d bring the survey out, and even though I was overly behind the good guys and underdogs alike, I’d pop when he asked and squeal when inevitably it was “another one for the good guys.” Often, if a match were to follow, he’d lose, but it didn’t matter because he was just as over as his schtick was. For this little girl only just learning about this wonderful world of professional wrestling, Scott Hall broke the third wall and taught me through his incredible talent that wrestling was about more than good guys versus bad guys. There were layers and the layers mattered to the stories. And in wrestling, the stories rule all.
If I’m being honest, I don’t know what kind of wrestling fan I am today without these early lessons from the bad guy. Without knowing, he helped shape me into a young fan who looked for more than just a badass powerbomb or a devastating spear. He had me examining what happened just before the powerbomb and what happened after the spear. The value of selling became obvious in short order, and there were not many better at that than Scott Hall.
As I got older, I was able to appreciate his career even more. How could you look at some of the matches he had and not place him among the industry greats? A pioneer of the ladder match. A creative genius. An all-time smartass with a heart of gold. A genuine comeback story that touched more people than he probably ever knew. A bad guy, with the heart of a good one.
Scott Hall wasn’t a perfect man. He wasn’t a perfect wrestler. He’d probably be the first to admit both. No one expects perfection from others, yet somehow so many of us place impossible expectations upon ourselves to be perfect anyway, and the resulting failure to be so can be absolutely crippling. I don’t know the root causes for Scott’s battles with addiction or with other demons within. Only he knows the truth. I do know that within those battles, we are often presented with a choice. It’s a simple one, yet as monumental as it gets. I also know that Scott chose to fight. He chose to work hard. He chose to grab life by the balls and take back what he lost. He stood tall, twirled that single strand of jet-black hair on his forehead, gnawed on his trademark toothpick, looked Goliath dead in the eyes, and absolutely refused to fail.
I’ll remember his WWE hall of fame induction speech forever. It’s one of those that goes beyond wrestling, because in Scott we had so much more than just a wrestler. We had so much more than a career to celebrate. In that single moment of acknowledgement and praise, we were able to look upon the performer AND the man. We were able to do so and give thanks as he gave thanks right back.
The weight of that moment was heavy. I remember sitting on the couch, tears welled up in my eyes, hanging on every word. It was abundantly clear how much the induction meant to him and how far he’d come to make it possible. Those last words left an imprint in my brain. They hit me. HARD.
“Hard work pays off. Dreams come true. Bad times don’t last. But BAD GUYS do.”
I found so much solace in his words. I still do. They spoke volumes about his own journey, but to mine as well, as I’m sure they did to countless others. Through hard work and perseverance, dreams CAN come true. They exist as possibilities until we can transform them into inevitabilities. Bad times are also inevitable. We all navigate them in different forms and ways, but they are fleeting. We survive. How? However we must. Like a true bad guy.
I legitimately abhor writing pieces like this. They make me tremendously sad. In that sadness however, I’m able to smile as I reflect on all Scott gave to us as fans. His is a face I’ll always remember when I think about first falling in love with wrestling. When I think of legendary heels in a business full of them, he’ll sit amongst the greats forever. When I examine the current landscape of professional wrestling and how far it’s come over generations, I’ll be able to see the fingerprints of Razor Ramon everywhere I look. Through his actions, his mind, and his heart, the business is better because of him.
I have cried more than I care to admit since the news broke that he’d likely pass. It’s an odd feeling to do so over someone you’ve never met, never seen, and never known personally. But with our little family of professional wrestling, it’s almost as if we do. These larger-than-life people impact our lives in ways incomprehensible to an outsider. It’s funny – for a man who made that term famous, who was supposed to be an author of a grand invasion of “outsiders,” he sure made us all feel like we were the exact opposite. What a gift.
So many of Scott’s peers have flooded social media with stories and heartfelt words in the aftermath of the news of his declining health first graced our timelines. It’s in those words I find the most joy amidst such heartbreak. Wrestling is unique in that each talent largely chooses their own uniform. They craft their own move-sets. Today, more than ever before, they write the promos they deliver. There are almost endless avenues to pay tribute to those you love. I don’t think it’s any coincidence that even well before this, we saw countless tributes to Scott Hall.
I could go on forever, but I won’t. I want to send my heartfelt condolences to all those who loved Scott. His family. His brothers. His friends. His fans. In addition, I want to thank him in my way for being who he was and for helping to shape my love for this thing of ours into what it exists as today.
It’s ok to be the bad guy sometimes, as long as a good heart lives within.
Goodbye, Razor. Rest and be remembered – 4 Life.