Let me begin this by showing you a video. The title of the video is "Worst Wrestling Botch Ever." I believe that is a very fitting title, it's certainly the worst and most disgusting botch I've ever seen. Sometimes when a guy or gal botches a wrestling move, it's funny, simply because it makes them look silly. Sometimes the botch is tragic, because it can ruin an otherwise awesome match and it will be the main thing people remember from said match. Be warned before watching this video that it is of a man trying to perform a double moonsault from the top rope (meaning, he attempts a double backflip) and lands directly on top of his head, and if he didn't break his neck, he certainly had a severe concussion. If you choose not to watch the video, I understand.
Now, if you're a normal human being and don't want to watch a guy almost commit accidental suicide, then you skipped that video. Good for you, you're not a sadomasochist. Let me say that it's this type of stuff that makes me hate this business that I love. That's definitely an oxymoron, but it's safe to say that almost everyone in the wrestling business has a love/hate relationship with it. We love being in the ring, we love entertaining the fans, we love the rush of walking through the curtain and getting that pop. But when we see things like this, where a kid, who has probably never been properly trained, probably made less than $20 to wrestle on this show, and will probably have some sort of permanent head injury, it makes us hate the business.
I first watched this video when a friend posted it on Facebook, and I was on break at work. I was just sitting there, and when the moment of impact occurred, my jaw completely dropped, and I was unable to pick it up off of the floor until after the video was over.
Now that I know the kid isn't dead, the video makes me angry. Why would you possibly take this kind of risk? I'm not against giving fans a spectacle, but I'm definitely not going to perform something this dangerous, for little to no money, in a garage in front of 40 people. Jim Morrison was famous for making boring music and also because he performed like a crazy man in front of a very small crowd. When asked why, he said "Because this may be the last time I ever get to be on stage." That's all well and good, but Jim Morrison wasn't a professional wrestler, and he wasn't literally putting his life on the line every time he stepped in front of a microphone.
Others might argue that it shouldn't matter how little or how much you get paid, you should always go out there and give it your all. Sure, I understand that, but within reason. Every time I get in a wrestling ring, I want to have the best match on the card, but I'm not going to go out of my way to put my life in danger for a single moment of glory. I won't perform a move I've never done in a match unless I've practiced it before, and if I'm ever uncomfortable taking a certain move, I refuse to take it, unless I completely trust the man giving it to me. For example, a few weeks ago, I wrestled "Relentless" Ron Mathis at Rockstar Pro Wrestling. We had an awesome match, easily one of the best matches I've had in a very long time. In the match, Ron gave me a tombstone piledriver, it was the first time I had ever taken the move, and while I turned out okay (meaning I'm not paralyzed), I definitely felt it for a few days. The only reason I took it is because I've known Ron for a long time and I completely trust him.
Anyone who wants to have a long wrestling career needs to learn about moderation. Unless I'm making big money, you won't see me doing anything excessively dangerous in the ring. No one ever says "Yeah, the best wrestling match I've ever seen was this one deathmatch from....." That just doesn't happen. The best matches of all time tell great stories, or show tremendous athleticism. Brock Lesnar attempted a shooting-star press at WrestleMania 19 (which is when someone performs a backflip while jumping forward), and he wound up with a concussion because of it.
Basically, what I'm saying is that if you're going to attempt a double moonsault, save it for WrestleMania, kid.