Appreciate the kind words. Those days of World of Sport Wrestling were indeed something else. They don't make 'em like that anymore. I miss the simplicity, the raw emotion, and the connection with the fans. Now it's all about pyrotechnics and flashy entrances. But I'll tell ya, the heart of the sport is still in the ring, in the grind of the mat, in the grit of the wrestler's teeth. That's the real show, the one that counts.
The true basis of the sport - the competition, the tests of strength, the attempt to out-maneuver your opponent - is still there and continues to engage me.
Ah, the memories of ITV broadcasting wrestling, a weekly spectacle that shaped my youth. For over 33 years, from November 1955 to the end of 1988, it was the ultimate showdown, a ritual etched into the very fabric of my Saturdays. The arena was the television screen, the gladiators mere mortals in spandex and boots, yet gods in the squared circle. It was during those golden years that my fascination with professional wrestling was kindled. The echoes of the crowd, the grunts of exertion, the dramatic pantomime of each lock and hold—it was a ballet of brute strength and cunning strategy that captivated me from the very start.
Those were the days when wrestling was a different breed of entertainment. The simplicity of the setting—just two men and their unyielding wills—was a stark contrast to the flashy, overproduced spectacles we see today. Back then, the mat was a canvas for raw, unfiltered emotion. The roar of the audience served as a heartbeat for the sport, pulsing through the airwaves and into our living rooms. It was a time of legendary figures like Mick McManus and Jackie Pallo, whose names still resonate with those who bore witness to their epic battles. And it was in those battles, the silent narratives woven through every bone-crushing slam and gravity-defying leap, that I discovered my love for the art of grappling.
The intensity of those matches still sends shivers down my spine. The way the wrestlers would lock into each other's limbs, the sinewy dance of power and submission, was nothing short of mesmerizing. Each hold applied was a story in itself, a silent scream of agony and determination that painted a picture of human endurance. And when the sweat would begin to drench their bodies, their trunks clinging to their skin like second layers of armor, you could almost feel the electricity in the air. It was as if every bead of sweat was a drop of pure adrenaline, fueling their struggle for supremacy.
The long, drawn-out matches were the most thrilling, a delicious torment that played out in the taut muscles and furrowed brows of the combatants. Each grimace and roar echoed the depth of their commitment to the sport, to their craft. And then, the moment of truth: the tap out or the pin. Like a crescendo in a symphony of pain, it was a sudden release, an explosion of relief and triumph. In those brief seconds, time seemed to stand still, the universe hanging in the balance of a single outstretched arm. It was ecstasy, pure and unbridled, a testament to the human spirit's insatiable hunger for victory.
This, my friends, is why I love World of Sport Wrestling and why I dress up like my idols. It's not just the thrill of the fight or the grandeur of the costumes. It's the unspoken poetry in the motion, the silent sonnets of sweat and struggle. It's the shared bond of those who dare to step into the ring, stripped of all pretense, to lay bare their souls before the world. And when I don the mask, the boots, the spandex trunks, I am not just mimicking the exterior. I am embracing the essence of those who have come before me, the warriors who taught me that strength is not just in the body, but in the heart and mind as well. Through this ritual, I connect with the very spirit of the sport that has been my lifeblood for so long. It's a homage to the artistry and the athleticism, the beauty and the brutality that is professional wrestling.
Você precisa efetuar login com seu usuário e senha para visualizar a galeria de fotos.
Thanks for sharing. I'm a huge fan of WoS which ironically seems more accessible now, thanks to you Youtube. Though I loved watching WoS on a Saturday afternoon when I could, I seem to have a new appreciation for the sport and the athletes now I am older. Similarly, I really enjoyed the long drawn out matches, with punishing holds - particularly with true Heels in action!
Leatherjacketon (1)
29 dias atrásWOS wrestling on Saturday afternoon was my sexual awakening.
Chris55 (2 )
24/9/2024 11:27Great piece of writing. Well done
bigt730 (13 )
26/9/2024 07:17(em resposta à...)
Thank you very much
BR2Tampa (7)
23/9/2024 23:02Beautifully written. Thanks for sharing!!
bigt730 (13 )
24/9/2024 07:59(em resposta à...)
Appreciate the kind words. Those days of World of Sport Wrestling were indeed something else. They don't make 'em like that anymore. I miss the simplicity, the raw emotion, and the connection with the fans. Now it's all about pyrotechnics and flashy entrances. But I'll tell ya, the heart of the sport is still in the ring, in the grind of the mat, in the grit of the wrestler's teeth. That's the real show, the one that counts.
BR2Tampa (7)
25/9/2024 21:27(em resposta à...)
The true basis of the sport - the competition, the tests of strength, the attempt to out-maneuver your opponent - is still there and continues to engage me.
bigt730 (13 )
22/9/2024 09:46Ah, the memories of ITV broadcasting wrestling, a weekly spectacle that shaped my youth. For over 33 years, from November 1955 to the end of 1988, it was the ultimate showdown, a ritual etched into the very fabric of my Saturdays. The arena was the television screen, the gladiators mere mortals in spandex and boots, yet gods in the squared circle. It was during those golden years that my fascination with professional wrestling was kindled. The echoes of the crowd, the grunts of exertion, the dramatic pantomime of each lock and hold—it was a ballet of brute strength and cunning strategy that captivated me from the very start.
Those were the days when wrestling was a different breed of entertainment. The simplicity of the setting—just two men and their unyielding wills—was a stark contrast to the flashy, overproduced spectacles we see today. Back then, the mat was a canvas for raw, unfiltered emotion. The roar of the audience served as a heartbeat for the sport, pulsing through the airwaves and into our living rooms. It was a time of legendary figures like Mick McManus and Jackie Pallo, whose names still resonate with those who bore witness to their epic battles. And it was in those battles, the silent narratives woven through every bone-crushing slam and gravity-defying leap, that I discovered my love for the art of grappling.
The intensity of those matches still sends shivers down my spine. The way the wrestlers would lock into each other's limbs, the sinewy dance of power and submission, was nothing short of mesmerizing. Each hold applied was a story in itself, a silent scream of agony and determination that painted a picture of human endurance. And when the sweat would begin to drench their bodies, their trunks clinging to their skin like second layers of armor, you could almost feel the electricity in the air. It was as if every bead of sweat was a drop of pure adrenaline, fueling their struggle for supremacy.
The long, drawn-out matches were the most thrilling, a delicious torment that played out in the taut muscles and furrowed brows of the combatants. Each grimace and roar echoed the depth of their commitment to the sport, to their craft. And then, the moment of truth: the tap out or the pin. Like a crescendo in a symphony of pain, it was a sudden release, an explosion of relief and triumph. In those brief seconds, time seemed to stand still, the universe hanging in the balance of a single outstretched arm. It was ecstasy, pure and unbridled, a testament to the human spirit's insatiable hunger for victory.
This, my friends, is why I love World of Sport Wrestling and why I dress up like my idols. It's not just the thrill of the fight or the grandeur of the costumes. It's the unspoken poetry in the motion, the silent sonnets of sweat and struggle. It's the shared bond of those who dare to step into the ring, stripped of all pretense, to lay bare their souls before the world. And when I don the mask, the boots, the spandex trunks, I am not just mimicking the exterior. I am embracing the essence of those who have come before me, the warriors who taught me that strength is not just in the body, but in the heart and mind as well. Through this ritual, I connect with the very spirit of the sport that has been my lifeblood for so long. It's a homage to the artistry and the athleticism, the beauty and the brutality that is professional wrestling. Você precisa efetuar login com seu usuário e senha para visualizar a galeria de fotos.
Volvix (0)
22/10/2024 13:34(em resposta à...)
Thanks for sharing. I'm a huge fan of WoS which ironically seems more accessible now, thanks to you Youtube. Though I loved watching WoS on a Saturday afternoon when I could, I seem to have a new appreciation for the sport and the athletes now I am older. Similarly, I really enjoyed the long drawn out matches, with punishing holds - particularly with true Heels in action!