Don’t Think Twice 03.17.09: It Ends Today

Posted by Scott Slimmer on 03.17.2009

This isn’t about tributes and eulogies anymore. This isn’t about questions that have no answers. This is about the fact that professional wrestlers are dying at an unconscionable rate. And this is about the fact that it’s time for change.


Andrew Martin was found dead in his home in Tampa last weekend. He was 33 years old. The tributes will undoubtedly be forthcoming, but at this point I wonder if they even mean anything anymore. We've all become far too good at writing about dead wrestlers. There was a time when I would have done my best to write eloquently about the professional wrestler known as Test and what his memories will always mean to us. There was a time when I would have asked questions about what it means to be a fan of an industry that is becoming increasingly littered with tragedy and death. And there was a time when I would have said that maybe those difficult and uncomfortable questions have no answers.

But that time is gone. Because right here, right now, things seem pretty damn clear to me. Maybe I'll feel differently in an hour or a day or a week. Maybe the passage of time will broaden my perspective or ease my pain or quell my anger. Or maybe it's time to finally stop lying to myself and lying to all of you. Because maybe it's time to finally admit that some of those difficult and uncomfortable questions really do have answers. And so maybe it's time to finally stop hiding from those answers and face the truth.

Professional wrestlers die at an unconscionable rate. I was about to say that they die at an unbelievable rate, but at this point we seem to have all just accepted the industry's high mortality rate as a given. The fact that professional wrestlers are dying all around us seems to have become no more unbelievable than the fact that the sun rises in the east and sets in the west. You may say that Andrew Martin's death was a tragedy. You may say that you were saddened to hear the news. But were you surprised? Were you shocked? If you said yes to either of those questions, then you're still lying to yourself. Because you can be sad. You should be angry. Hell, you should be outraged. But the truth is that the death of a professional wrestler ceased to be shocking long ago.

I say this regardless of the circumstances surrounding each death. Maybe it was a drug overdose or a heart attack. Maybe it was gastroenteritis or post-concussion syndrome. Maybe it was suicide or maybe it was murder. The bottom line is that professional wrestlers die at an unconscionable rate, and it's time that we finally face that truth. Because only when we face the truth, only when we state it as bluntly and as brutally as possible, only when we admit that there is a problem, can we begin to look for a solution.

Andrew Martin's death may have been the result of a drug overdose, and there are those that have asserted that would mean he and he alone was to blame for his death. Well I say that's bullshit. If death by drug overdose was a rarity in the world of professional wrestling, if it was an unexpected exception to the rule, then maybe we could write it off as a result of poor individual choices. But that fact that death by drug overdose is so commonplace in the world of professional wrestling means that there is a larger problem, a more systemic phenomenon at work. Maybe professional wrestling attracts those who are predisposed to drug abuse. Maybe professional wrestling creates an environment that fosters drug abuse. Maybe professional wrestling conditions those who try to leave the industry behind to be more susceptible to drug abuse. But whatever the reason or the cause, the problem is too widespread to continue blaming it solely on the individual. Drug abuse is not the underlying problem, but rather a symptom of something deeper.

Of course, drug abuse is not the only problem that affects both current and former professional wrestlers. Physical health problems from cardiovascular disease to joint damage to spinal conditions are common, but so are mental heath problems such as depression. The physical repercussions of living the life of a professional wrestler have been well documented and discussed, but I'm beginning to believe that the mental and emotional repercussions may be just as dangerous and just as long-lasting, if not more so. I'm beginning to wonder if trying to adapt to life after professional wrestling can lead to something akin to post-traumatic stress disorder. These are men and women who in their prime are conditioned to live for the adulation and praise of the fans. While it is true that other athletes and entertainers become dependent on the support of their fans, I would argue that the effect is most prominent in the world of professional wrestling. Athletes in virtually every other sport can measure success in wins and losses in addition to fan support, but wins and losses mean virtually nothing in professional wrestling. Actors and entertainers on the stage and the screen are often paid extremely well for their work, and while some professional wrestlers are also paid quite handsomely, no amount of money alone is worth the price that is paid for being a professional wrestler. The men and women who last any length of time in this industry have only one motivation and only one measure of success, and that is their ability to entertain the fans. Is it then any wonder that their lives become a bit darker and a bit lonelier when the days of packed arenas and cheering fans are long behind them?

Professional wrestlers die at an unconscionable rate, and while in some cases those deaths can be blamed on poor individual choices, I would argue that the industry itself also plays a role in those decisions. The industry subjects professional wrestlers to a lifestyle that breeds poor decision making and then fails to properly equip them to make better decisions in the future. And when I speak of the professional wrestling industry, I mean the promoters, bookers, writers, wrestlers, media, and fans. All of us. We each play a role in shaping the lives of professional wrestlers. And we each have a hand in the deaths that so often await them.

There will be those that say that if we as fans truly are contributing to the deaths of professional wrestlers, then the only appropriate response is to walk away. They will claim that the only way to save the lives of professional wrestlers is to turn our backs on the problem and hope that our departure makes enough of a statement to have an impact. Well I say that's bullshit, too. Hell, that's more than bullshit. That's a coward's way out. If you truly love this industry like I do and like so many other fans do, then you could never abandon it. Yes, it has many deep and pervasive problems, but it is also an incredibly unique and powerful form of entertainment, form of expression, form of art, and it is worth fighting for. We have all played a role in creating the problems in the industry, and we all need to play a role in solving them.

I applaud the efforts already made by some promotions such as WWE. WWE's Wellness Program and offer of rehabilitation to any formerly contracted talent are most certainly steps in the right direction. But punishing drug abuse will ultimately solve nothing if the lifestyle that leads to drug abuse is still encouraged. Treating drug abuse will ultimately solve nothing if the physical, mental, and emotional wounds that lead to drug abuse are left ignored and untreated. Professional wrestlers need to know that their lives are just as important as their performances and that the industry will still care deeply about their lives even after their performances are over. Maybe it's time for Jesse Ventura's dream of unionizing the professional wrestling industry to finally be realized. Maybe professional wrestling promotions need to be required to provide comprehensive health care insurance to all of their wrestlers. Maybe pension plans should be established so that wrestlers who step away from the ring with broken bodies and shattered psyches are no longer left to fend for themselves, to live lives of quiet desperation, to die abandoned and alone. I understand what a profound paradigm shift this will be for the professional wrestling industry, and that is why we as fans must not only support these changes but actively demand them.

Andrew Martin was found dead in his home in Tampa last weekend. He was 33 years old. This is a sad day, but the time for sadness is over. The time has come to be angry, to be furious, to be outraged at an industry that has let so many men and women die and at the fans that have watched it happen. I am as angry with myself as I am at anyone else, and I hope that each and every one of you reading this column feels exactly the same way. Because we need to embrace that anger and use it to fuel action and drive change. Andrew Martin will not be the last to die. Even if sweeping changes were made today, too much damage has already been done to too many past professional wrestlers. But while the death and the tragedy and the sadness will undoubtedly continue, the answer is not to hide our heads in the sand and assume that there is nothing we can do. We as fans need to be vocal in our encouragement and support of promotions that foster the necessary changes and equally vocal in our denunciation of promotions that continue to encourage the status quo. The industry must change, and everyone from Vince McMahon and Dixie Carter to the fans watching Raw and Impact must play a role in that change. Because professional wrestlers are not just dying at an unconscionable rate. They're being killed by the industry they love and the fans that love them. And so if we as fans truly love this industry, love these men and women, love our heroes as much as we claim that we do, then the only thing left to do is make a pledge to the industry and to our heroes and to ourselves: It ends today.