I've been wondering what would lead me to update this blog again. It took the death of Bobby Heenan.
Bobby Heenan was not a great wrestler.
He was, however, that rarest of people—an excellent personality. Few people can make a living just by being themselves, but Heenan managed it.
He was always super-quick, sometimes with what we now call "dad jokes", sometimes with pure improv. I remember one match with a "botch"; someone missed with a kick and his opponent collapsed anyway. Heenan, on commentary, announced "There goes that trick knee again!" He was the perfect non-threatening "weasel" heel for the Hulkamania era, where inarticulate monsters were pitted champion Hulk Hogan, and later a great color commentator—endlessly entertaining without ever overshadowing what was going on in the ring.
Then came cancer:
Image may be NSFW.
Clik here to view.
And he lost the power of speech, but still managed to communicate, most often with a raised middle finger at various wrestling conventions and signing events. He survived a surprisingly long time, honestly, but had to go eventually. Seventy-two isn't so bad, and for someone in professional wrestling these days, it's downright remarkable.
Bobby Heenan was not a great wrestler.
He was, however, that rarest of people—an excellent personality. Few people can make a living just by being themselves, but Heenan managed it.
He was always super-quick, sometimes with what we now call "dad jokes", sometimes with pure improv. I remember one match with a "botch"; someone missed with a kick and his opponent collapsed anyway. Heenan, on commentary, announced "There goes that trick knee again!" He was the perfect non-threatening "weasel" heel for the Hulkamania era, where inarticulate monsters were pitted champion Hulk Hogan, and later a great color commentator—endlessly entertaining without ever overshadowing what was going on in the ring.
Then came cancer:
Image may be NSFW.
Clik here to view.
And he lost the power of speech, but still managed to communicate, most often with a raised middle finger at various wrestling conventions and signing events. He survived a surprisingly long time, honestly, but had to go eventually. Seventy-two isn't so bad, and for someone in professional wrestling these days, it's downright remarkable.
