It’s rare that a wrestling death gets me to write about it, but today we lost Rowdy Roddy Piper. He was a pretty big part of my childhood.
You see, we had a routine every Sunday. Early church, breakfast, grocery shopping, then home to watch WWF on USA. This was way before Raw and the Monday Night Wars.
We tuned in for Hogan, and Andre, and Junkyard Dog, and Macho Man, and Roddy Roddy (as I would say as a kid).
Now, all of those guys are gone (or have tarnished their legacies).
Piper was a rebel. He was the first wrestler I remember being dirty. His promo’s stuck with me more than others; I can remember watching Piper’s Pit and realizing there was moer to wrestling than just the matches.
Without Piper, guys that I followed, like Chris Jericho, Edge, and C.M. Punk wouldn’t be able to cut promos like they have. Piper, to me, was one of the first mic guys; one of the first guys that could entertain me outside of a match.
Tonight, I chew a piece of bubble gum in his honor, since kicking ass is a little out of my wheel house.