I’m baaaack! Wow, it’s been seven months. Don’t worry—as the kids say, I got the deets. Seriously, though, my personal life is usually persona non grata on the site. However, I want to explain my absence and how wrestling became some much-needed soul soup.
Illness, surgery, post-surgery complications, and COVID put me down for the count. I was in pain, which seemed endless. Desperate for relief, I withdrew from everyday life, only appearing where the obligation trumped expectation. A brave face and a big smile became the mask of an endless front.
Meanwhile, an independent wrestling promotion, Royal Crown Wrestling, announced that former WWE superstar Paul London would appear on an upcoming show in my area. I couldn’t mark the date on my calendar fast enough.
Most people cheer on the titans of their favorite genre while gaining a deep appreciation for the work, talent, and skill of an underrated and, perhaps, unappreciated few. For me, it’s Sam Cassell in basketball, Reggie Wayne in football, Max Rebo in Star Wars, and Paul London in professional wrestling.
London was a standout performer in ROH during the promotion’s formative years before moving on to WWE, where he became a tag team champion and a former cruiserweight title holder. I’m a fan of Paul London’s work as a wrestler. Everything he does in the ring exudes believability, and his technique showcases a unique flare of precision, whether he’s putting on a technical wrestling display or a high-flying spectacle.
I was really looking forward to the show, but on the day of the event, my excitement turned to disappointment. I decided not to go to the show and would stay home instead. It was another in a long line of gatherings I’d miss out on. Then, I started thinking about that line and how long it had become. I felt a mix of shame and anger.
Through determination, I drew inspiration from the challenges my wife had recently overcome. I was going to the show! Sure, I could leave any time, but if nothing else, I’m going to take a seat in the building.
My wrestling running buddies could not attend the show, so I went solo. Upon arrival and scanning for a place to sit, I noticed wrestler “The Mind Eraser” Mike Graca and his family were in attendance. I’ve worked on many of the same shows as Graca. I know him, but I don’t know him, know him.
I continued looking for a seat until a light bulb went off in my head. “Hey, do you mind if I join you?” I asked Graca and his family, and they were happy to oblige. I enjoyed getting to know them a little more, making the show a more pleasant experience.
Paul London squared off with “The Phoenix” GKM, an up-and-coming wrestler often seen on cards in New York, Pennsylvania, and New Jersey. GKM looks like he lives in the gym and has the talent to match.
I was surprised by what I saw when London walked out from the entrance. Instead of sporting the long pleather pants from his WWE days, London was dressed in an Elvis Presley-style jumpsuit and singing his way to the ring. It was an unexpected sight that added a new dimension to his performance.
London quickly drew the crowd’s ire. “The sound is the shits,” London proclaimed into the microphone as he walked right by me, taking the scenic route to the ring. The bell rang, and instead of his renowned high-flying style, London wrestled a more conservative match.
It was ten minutes into the match before London took a single bump. The Texas native worked smarter, not harder, as he carried the crowd in the palm of his hand. Don’t get me wrong, London worked hard, but the wrestling art form of less is more was executed quite well. There were flashes of the high-impact arsenal London is known for, including that dropkick.
Damn, he still throws a great dropkick. London did some of the little things in the ring that go unnoticed by most. One such move occurred when he wrapped his right leg around GKM’s right leg to reverse the lock up in the corner.
Forgetting they were seeing a big-time wrestler, the crowd rooted for GKM to give London his just deserts. After a fun brawl that gave fans everything they could ask for, London finished GKM with a DDT and illegally put his foot on the rope for leverage. A wrestler winning with a DDT in 2024 made the seven-year-old wrestling fan in me smile.
The show had ended, and I waited as fans cleared out of the building while the ring crew tore down the ring. I struck up a conversation with a friend of London’s who worked his merchandise table.
Finally, the moment I had eagerly anticipated arrived. “Hello. What’s your name?” London asked, intrigued. “Is that spelled A-t-l-e-y?” I corrected him, “it’s A-t-l-e-e.” He was so sure he had the correct spelling and complimented me on having a unique name. It was a small, personal moment that made me feel happy.
We chatted it up for a while, and then he told me a behind-the-scenes story from his WWE run that was far from pleasant. Immediately following a successful cruiserweight title defense against Nunzio (7/26/05), London was informed that Vince McMahon decreed no more 450 splashes off the top rope.
London didn’t do a 450 splash. He did a shooting star press.
Confused, London sought out Dean Malenko, a former wrestler renowned for his technical prowess in the ring. Malenko was the agent for the match and assured London he’d smooth things over with the boss. They walked into McMahon’s office, where Malenko asked his first and only question.
McMahon replied, “Yeah, no more off the top.” Six words of verbal venom knocked the advocacy out of Malenko as he said “Okay” and walked out of the room, leaving London alone with the surly billionaire. London stuck up for himself, telling McMahon he didn’t understand where he was coming from with such a decision.
McMahon told London if he let him do a 450, Rey [Mysterio] would want to do it, and Rey could get hurt. London said no one would get hurt because no one would do the move. After all, it was his finishing maneuver. McMahon leaned forward, looked London right in the eye, and said. “So, you want us to make an exception for you?” with emphasis on the word “You.”
One week later, London lost the cruiserweight title to Nunzio.
More stories were shared as I got London’s autograph on an old ROH DVD titled Best of Paul London: Please Don’t Die and took a picture with him. Mission Accomplished!
As we continued talking, some of the young wrestlers on the card walked over to us, looking for advice from the accomplished veteran. London gave them great tips on listening to the crowd during a match.
I’ve heard this advice many times over the years. However, many share such wisdom without explanation. London explained and did so in a well-instructed manner, preceding his reputation as a trainer.
A cornucopia of advice, stories, and a smidge of gossip flowed from London. As the conversation continued, I realized I hadn’t paid him yet for the picture and autograph. I waited for a break in the exchange to hand him the money, and I was absolutely astounded by his response.
“What are you doing?” London confusingly asked, making me equally confused. I slowly pulled back the money and cautiously replied, “It’s for the autograph.” London’s confusion disappeared with a smile, “Dude, it’s just ink,” regarding his signature.
Wow, what do you say in the face of such humility? I feared I might offend him if I also inquired about the picture we took, but I didn’t want to rip him off. London replied, “It’s just a picture. I’m not different or any better than you.”
They say, “Never meet your heroes,” the idea being that they will often disappoint. On that night, Paul London was an exception to the rule. His exceptional skill represents much of what I wanted to be as a wrestler, and his graciousness was inspiring. It makes me want to be a better person.
That night was just what I needed in a way more than words can convey. If my words didn’t do the job, I’ll take a cue from the main event that night and finish with a less is more approach.
Thank you, Paul London!
RingsideLogic.com 