Writin' About Rasslin': An Ode To Poetry ... Or Something

Up front the admission: I ain't no poet. Never been one. Never understood the form. Never much liked it.

But, like every writer who's ever put a letter on a page, I occasionally dabble--badly; more like babble--in it. And below is an effort, humble though it be, that was brought to me by my pal Lorie White, who watched her first pro rasslin' match last night and listened to people get all fired up. These are people who believe what you're seeing is spontaneous and honest as Jesus.

They'd be wrong, of course, but ain't no arguing faith.

When I was a young sports writer, I got to cover some rasslin' because the head of my sports department--like the heads of many sports departments in those days--was on the take and the rasslin' promoters was doing the givin'. I didn't get nothin' but experience and was grateful for that, coming, as I did, in off the street looking for a job.

Anyhow, here's my poem (with apologies to Robert Service). Take it as you will, but like writin' about rasslin' itself, I liked doing it.

Ode to the rasslin’ graft

The rasslin’ promoter came by today

To get some more space on our pages.

Said the coverage he got was too short for him

And he'd make us a trade with more wages.

He wanted some coverage he said to me,

And he told me he’d pay all the writers

A hundred bucks, two tickets and beer

If they’d say somethin’ good ‘bout his fighters.

Now rasslin’s a game we all know to be

As fake and made up as the movies,

But the money is green, the beer is cold

And so what if the matches ain’t true-vies.

The people come out in their WalMart duds

A-stompin’ and yellin’ and threatenin’,

Cheerin’ the good guys, booing the bad,

Gettin' drunk, gettin' mad and fret-nin'.

When I was a kid and covered this "sport"

My editor said they weren't fakin’

And the guy who paid him all of that graft

Said, "Cover it real if you’re takin'."

So I done all of that and had me some grins

Made pals of the fighters, learned the ropes

Studied about ethics the backdoor way

And found for sure: they weren’t dopes.