When I was a teenager, oh in the early sixties, Saturday night wrestling was a very very popular television must. Not only with grownups, but with teenagers. The wrestlers were all called by their names and known by their home states and countries. I can remember my own mother telling me what a nice man Yukon Eric was. He used tree limbs for weights etc. Yukon weighed two hundred eighty five pounds and had a sixty six inch chest. He did not smoke or drink. He once went into a bar and ordered a glass of milk. He was a sad man though. My mother just loved him, I think because he had a baby face.
I can remember watching my dad watch the television wrestling. I giggled to myself while dad watched. He “helped” the wrestlers involuntarily; a twitch here a twitch there. His hands would roll into fists, his shoulders would first one then the other go up and down to miss the onslaught of his formidable opponent. During this time you must not talk to dad. If you did, it wouldn’t make any difference because he was AT the “fights” and he wouldn’t hear you.
This afternoon I was watching the Vikings play against the Cowboys with Fran. I found myself “helping” the Vikings with involuntary movements. I guess it helped because the Vikings won an important game. Maybe Yukon won some matches because my dad helped him out!
I had never heard of that wrestler. You are right, he was sad. Such a shame.
ReplyDeleteAnd anyone who beats the Cowboys is good in Greg's book. Unless its the Raiders.....