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My Opinion
Bill Lackey
Isn't anybody at City Hall concerned that pro wrestling in Springfield is, at present, unregulated?
In the 1930s, Springfield's Lord Lansdowne introduced a lot of firsts to pro wrestling, including a persona and entrance music.
McGinn: What this city needs is a wrestling commissioner
This intrepid columnist is ready to take up the cape on behalf of pro wrestling
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By Andrew McGinn,
Staff Writer
Updated 10:40 AM Friday, February 3, 2012
After 12 years of writing a column for the News-Sun, I have but one regret — that I didn’t wrestle the Iron Sheik in the summer of 2000.
I mean, it’s a serious regret.
There are days when I actually wish I could travel back in time to put my old self in an inverted facelock until he realized the opportunity he was about to idiotically pass up.
The Sheik — that legendary villain of mid-’80s professional wrestling — was to appear at the now-demolished Freedom Road Center as part of an International Wrestling Alliance event.
And, according to the posters, he would be taking on all-comers.
In fact, if you could “Beat the Sheik,” you were to have won a wrestling contract.
Now, I have no doubt that, even in his mid-50s at the time, Iron Sheik would’ve buried me faster than Iran’s nuclear program.
But think of the column I could’ve gotten out of it.
Hell, I would’ve voluntarily laid face-down on the mat in order to receive the Sheik’s signature move, the Camel Clutch.
“Mr. Sheik, I’m a huge fan from back in the day. Do you think you could just straddle me now, grab my chin and violently yank my head back? I really need to feel the Camel Clutch to clinch this column, and it’s not guaranteed I’ll survive your initial series of drops, butts and/or kicks.”
I could’ve been seriously injured by an aging star of pro wrestling, and I didn’t go.
Stupid. Just stupid.
After that, I resolved to never again let something so potentially rich in column fodder slip through my fingers — which is why I just asked Mayor Warren Copeland to appoint me Springfield’s first wrestling commissioner in at least 34 years.
“I think it might be arrangeable,” Copeland said, much to my delight.
I might not have been able to beat the Sheik, but I could still emerge victorious by becoming the guy who makes up and enforces all the rules for wrestling matches within city limits.
How’s that for a slick move?
You see, all boards and commissions written into the city code are still active or have been repealed except one — the Springfield Wrestling Commission.
“There’s not a soul on that board,” City Clerk Connie Chappell confessed.
By her records, nobody’s been on the wrestling commission since at least 1978, when terms for the last group of commissioners expired.
In all his years in office, Mayor Copeland has never once appointed anybody to the wrestling commission — a five-member governing body that “shall have full and complete jurisdiction, supervision and control over all wrestling shows, matches or exhibitions held, conducted or promoted within the city.”
“It’s a major oversight, I agree,” Copeland said.
Warren, don’t condescend me unless you can walk the walk in a steel cage.
As a concerned resident, I’m just trying to make sure all professional wrestling matches are on the up and up.
I merely want to ensure that, when a heel throws a handful of sand into a hero’s eyes to temporarily blind him or her, it’s of the softer, white subtropical variety and not the little black chunks of lava you’d find in Maui on Waianapanapa Beach.
On Saturday night, Dynamic Championship Wrestling will return to Springfield with an event at the VFW, 1237 E. Main St.
Isn’t anybody at City Hall concerned that pro wrestling presently is unregulated in Springfield?
“I would have to say no,” Chappell said after a two-second pause. “I gave it due consideration.”
By the way, did you know that failure to follow the rules and regulations set forth by the local wrestling commission is a third-degree misdemeanor?
Smackdown.
Failure to get a permit before your wrestling show?
Same.
Smackdown!
Surely, I’m not the only taxpayer who’s noticed the absence of a wrestling commissioner.
“No one has ever asked,” Chappell said. “You’re the only one.”
Well, that settles it then.
By default, kinda like the only person who shows up to a Royal Rumble, I should get to be wrestling commissioner.
I’m still conflicted whether my business cards should read “Big Andy Studd” or “Junkyard McGinn.”
Hey, the police chief is a cop, so why can’t the wrestling commissioner also be a wrestler?
Let me tell you people something then — letting the wrestling commission languish is a slap in the face, quickly followed by a springboard moonsault, to Springfield’s pro wrestling legacy.
And I’m not just talking about the matches that regularly drew thousands to old Memorial Hall during the sport’s first golden age.
Out in Calvary Cemetery off East Possum Road, Wilbur Finran is probably rolling in his grave.
Finran is the late Springfielder who introduced theatrics to professional wrestling.
It’s hard to believe there wasn’t a time when wrestlers didn’t have some kind of shtick.
But as uppity Lord Patrick Lansdowne in the 1930s, Finran simultaneously amused and enraged the nation’s wrestling fans.
He wore a monocle and a robe, entered the ring with two butlers to the sounds of “God Save the King” and took time out for tea between falls.
How to go
What: Dynamic Championship Wrestling
When: 7:30 p.m. Saturday
Where: Springfield VFW, 1237 E. Main St.
Admission: $10; $5 for kids and seniors
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