ECW Legacy

You know, lately, I've had periods of my life where I've become confused, disorientated. And this has nothing to do with the slight back injury I'm suffering from at the moment.

No. This is rather an odd feeling. It's as if I'm wearing a green turtle neck sweater, and I'm falling through this giant swirling thing, like some sort of time tunnel.

This feeling has come onto me several times in the past month or so, and it only seems to happen when I'm watching wrestling.

It started a little while ago. I was watching the wrestling one weekend, and I got an odd feeling, as if I'd travelled back in time. Two men appeared on the television before me, men I hadn't seen together in the same place for a few months.

One was a little, nerdy looking fellow, called Spike, the other, a large, man-beast of a man, going by the name of a certain animal found in Africa and in zoos around the world.

The last time I had seen these two together was in an ECW ring. Yet, I knew that Extreme Championship Wrestling was no more. It had ceased to be.

Yet, how come these two ECW wrestlers were in the ring with each other. Perhaps I had travelled back in time. There was no sign of an old, blue police box, so that couldn't be the answer to my question.

The strange feeling of disorientation passed a few moments later. I found myself back on my couch, no harm having come to me.

The feeling returned a few days later. Once again, I thought I had travelled back in time a few months. I thought I was watching Sunday Night Heat, but things began to tell me otherwise when Stone Cold lookalike Justin Credible and that fella from the Bowry began slugging it out.

However, this time, I noticed a difference. It seemed as if the ECW Arena had expanded somewhat. A ramp now lead down to the ring, and someone kept letting off fireworks in the arena. I thought that this was somewhat dangerous in a small arena.

Then, it happened again, last Monday, while I was watching a video. My brother told me that it was a video of a WWF pay-per-view, but a few minutes into the show, I began to think that he was a big fat liar.

That little guy was there again, this time with his big brothers, as well as that Justin guy. Then, that man-beast was fighting with that bird-man.

Again, I thought I had travelled back in time. But I checked my clothing. I was wearing my trusty Bayern Munich shirt and black sweat pants. No awful turtle neck and sixties side-parting. No swirling thing around me either.I then checked my television listings. No ECW shows were broadcast over the weekend. I then began to wonder if perhaps, all the stories about ECW were wrong. Paul Heyman wasn't broke. ECW wasn't bankrupt. They were alive and well, and were now holding shows in larger arenas.

Then reality hit me. I was brought back down to earth with a resounding thud. Vince McMahon appeared before me.

Since then, apart from the back pain, the disorientation has ceased. ECW, in name only, is dead and buried. But just watching the current WWF shows that in our hearts, and in our minds, ECW will live on forever.