I'm not crying, I have salt in my eyes

The wrestling world lost another legend yesterday. I knew Mr. Fuji as the heel manager of wrestlers such as George "The Animal" Steele, the tag team Demolition, and of course, Yokozuna. He would toss salt into the eyes of his opponents, "blinding" them and helping his client score an underhanded victory. Yeah, he was often portrayed as an "evil foreigner", but hey man, jingoism is all part of the grand tapestry that is professional wrestling.

I'll be the first person to admit I'm a dumb mark. It's only in recent years I've come to appreciate wrestling from the pre-WWF era. Wikipedia has informed me that Mr. Fuji got his start by partnering with the gruesome King Curtis Iaukea and winning the NWA Hawaii Tag Team Championships in the 60's. A Google image search shows me they were quite a fearsome pair. 

This is going to perhaps seem like a weird tangent, but whatever. When I was born my mom was already in her late forties and my pop was even older than her. My dad was already an "old man" by the time I was around. We had a house fire when I was very little (pre-kindergarten) and one of the worst things about it is we lost a lot of pictures and personal effects. There weren't many photos of my dad from his younger years. 

(Oddly enough, friends and family would often tell me my mom and dad looked a lot like Sam and Diane from Cheers when they started going out.)

As a teenager, I finally got to see some pictures of my dad from "back in the day". My brain couldn't handle it. My dad had always looked a certain way, and this suave-but-rugged guy in the photograph just looked like an entirely different person. Cognitive dissonance much?

I had that same reaction to seeing the younger Mr. Fuji. This mean little man, who tormented my childhood heroes and occasionally parodied old TV shows with Don Muraco was once a fierce competitor. This man, who accepted his WWE Hall of Fame induction from a wheelchair due to having over nine (!) knee surgeries was once a cobra clutch applying, lariat throwing badass.

Respect your elders, and if you see an old timer you like at a con or a wrestling show, make the effort to say hello and let them know you appreciate what they've done. Some of these guys and gals don't make it out of the buisness with a lot of money, but they can at least know that someone cared.

Rest in peace, Mr. Fuji. I loved to hate you.