wrestling / Columns
The Wrestling Bard 12.05.09: Samoan Requiem
R.I.P Eddie Fatu, 1973-2009
Before I got onto the computer day, I made a list of the top fifty wrestlers of the decade. Umaga ranked in at 46. That might not seem like that big of an accomplishment, but when you factor in the hundreds of wrestlers that have performed this decade around the globe, it is testament to how much I enjoyed Umaga’s work. The man never held a world title and was nothing more than a monster heel, a jobber to the stars. However, he was so good in his role that I had to place him among the elite fifty of the decade. I spent considerable time thinking about Umaga’s great match with John Cena at the Royal Rumble 2007, which took 411’s Match of the Year honor.
Mere hours after I wrote that list, I read of Umaga’s passing.
There are some things you get used to in life. And then there are things that, even though they are commonplace, you never get used too. Wrestling related deaths have become so frequent that you would think it doesn’t even phase wrestling fans. But here I am, sitting at my computer, typing a column in tribute to a wrestler. And I feel incredible, amazing sadness.
If I had to have a word association for Umaga, the words “guilty pleasure” would be those words. There are so many reasons I never should have liked Umaga. For one, he was another fat Samoan Savage. He was having 1970’s gimmick in the late 2000s. He was a reminder that wrestling is still a cartoon circus, no matter how much I want to pretend otherwise. And he was a HUGE reminder of just what Samoa Joe would be like if he was in WWE. Of course, he’s not that far off from that in TNA anyway, so that argument is hardly valid anymore. Despite all that working against him, Umaga became one of my favorite wrestlers to watch.
It wasn’t just that I thought he had good matches. It was the dedication that Eddie Fatu had to playing the character. He showed savage intensity and his strategy was pretty simplistic, but it made sense. When a body part was injured, he would target it. He wasn’t unintelligent, just simple and to the point. He was also athletic for his size and did moves that many men with his body type wouldn’t even attempt. He was deceptively agile and not deceptively hard-hitting. And he wasn’t afraid to take his lumps: some of the more memorable spots of the last five years have come from Umaga not caring about his own well-being. He was there to entertain us.
Here’s something to remember Umaga for.
As I write this, no cause of death has been confirmed. However, Eddie Fatu is 36. He wasn’t murdered or in an accident. He was released by WWE six months ago, reportedly for wellness violations. It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together. I don’t know if it was performance enhancers or recreational drugs, but it doesn’t matter. Eddie Fatu took risks in his life, and he paid for it with his life at an age would most people should be able to start enjoying life to its fullest. And while it might seem cold, the only person responsible for Eddie’s death is Eddie.
That’s not a judgment. I have never been one to condemn people for their personal choices. Every human being has the right to pursue happiness, so long as it harms no one but themselves. Yes, I do know that Eddie’s family, friends and fans are hurting right now. I said earlier that I’m hurting. But this is only heartache, and time heals the heart. So I have no reason to be angry with Eddie or condemn him. All I can do is shake my head, say a prayer for those affected by the death, and try to make smarter choices in my life.
But I really, REALLY hope this is a wake-up call to other wrestlers and people who are gambling with their lives. Eddie Fatu made a bunch of money, had many fans and had several critically acclaimed matches. He led a successful life, for the most part. But he is dead at 36, because of his choices. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to die at 36. I could die tomorrow walking to the grocery store if some idiot doesn’t pay attention to where he’s driving. I’ve accepted that and I don’t have any real regrets if such a freak accident were to happen. However, I’ll take “might die tomorrow” over “will die in twenty years” any day.
So, here’s a question to wrestlers and aspiring wrestlers. Is pumping a steroid into your body on the off chance that you will be noticed by WWE really worth the risk? Is popping painkiller after painkiller to deal with the bumps and bruises associated with the work really worth dying for? If it is, then by all means gamble your life. But really, really think about it first.
I hate to beat a dead horse (not the best choice of words in this case I guess), but I’m going to. Jeff Hardy is 32, and he clearly hasn’t “healed himself” as he said on WWE TV mere months ago. One of his peers and one of the guys most responsible for putting him over and making him a “legit” main event talent is now dead. As a Jeff Hardy fan, I really, REALLY don’t want to come onto 411 and read about his death. But at the same time, I have expected it to happen. If that happens, I know I’ll be sad, and I won’t condemn him for his choices like I know so many of the IWC will. But I will call a spade a spade. When people take risks, the only ones responsible for those risks are the people themselves.
Umaga is one more name on the ever-increasing list of wrestlers dying before their time due to damage to his body from substance abuse. It’s an incredibly morbid list of talented wrestlers and huge stars. The only semi-good thing I can say about it is that I’m still not used to them dying yet. I’m not immune to the sadness and anger. I’m not apathetic. But at the rate it’s happening, I fear that day will come sooner than I’d like.
However, with all that said, here are my final words on this tragedy. God bless you, Eddie Fatu, and thank you for the memories. Rest in peace.
*****
For those wondering, the Wrestlemania Odyssey series is done. I had already planned to drop it on Wednesday night, and was going to explain why in this column. However, with this news, I felt that it wouldn’t be appropriate.
See you all next week. Be safe and take care.
