The Man Who No Longer Exists

I saw the Man Who No Longer Exists yesterday. I was watching a DVD with wrestling footage from the early 90's and there he was, working away. It was in front of a small crowd. His opponent played the face and remained almost silent through-out. He Who No Longer Exists was a heel, occasionally noisy, and worked at the crowd, showing signs of a personality he supposedly never had in the ring.

As I watched I was happy then sad then happy again. It could have been different. The disk was filled with other sadness with other performers lost to us for various reasons. One of the chief amongst them was Eddy Guerrero. He is saluted, commonly mourned amongst wrestling fans. While he had fought back his demons by the end of his life, what killed him was the long-term abuse to his body, not so much in the ring, but the substances he abused outside of it.

Those are easier to excuse somehow, the slow suicides from poisons and shortcuts. Had the Man Who No Longer Exists held himself to that, he would be chief amongst the mourned but something else happened there, others were in the mix as well and, now, He No Longer Exists.

In time, things might change. The situation may be considered a wake up call. Perhaps someday we'll understand the situations better, understand the reasons better. Until then, it's better this way, not speaking his name, as if he never existed.