Yes, it's been a while hasn't it? Over a year to be precise since I handed over my last slice of wisdom to CRZ with talk of running off to become a famous writer. Well, though I am still a writer I can quite safely say that the famous part has not quite caught up with me yet. Still, early days. I just need to find my personal "Harry Potter"... To anyone that found time to miss me I'm deeply flattered and hope I can entertain you anew...

What's to talk about? Well, I think I'll ignore all the turmoil and trauma that seems to be going in the rasslin' world today and talk about something happy instead. Yes, I know that really doesn't make me much of a journalist but what can I say? I'm happy. Why am I happy? Because after nearly ten years of devotion to everyone's favourite pseudo sport I'm about to make the ultimate wrestling pilgrimage.

I'm going to Wrestlemania.

That's right folks, a week from today I'll be hopping on a plane at Gatwick airport and winging my way to the great state of Texas. A week of drinking and partying with my host awaits me capped off with a weekend in Houston. One of the highlights of this weekend will be taking my place in Row 2,245, Seat 7 ( I'm guessing since we got our tickets late. ) and enjoying a good old fashioned nose-bleed while I watch WWF history unfold. I apologise up front to anyone in Row 2,444 in case I drip on you nasally. Still it doesn't matter where I'll be because, dammit, at least I'm there!

The other highlight of the weekend will be a visit to the grappling utopia known only as WWF Axxess. No doubt, like any other fan convention, it'll consist largely of queuing, overcrowding and wondering whose elbow that is in the small of your back as you queue for a program. Not that any of this will matter to me of course. I will, in the words of Homer J. Simpson "Feel like a kid in some kind of store". I will become the one thing that all those self appointed smart fans despise. Something that they throw around as an insult.

I'll be a mark.

Damn proud of it to, because the moment I stop being able to lose myself in the excitement of it all is the moment I've no business calling myself a fan. Time for me to start watching football. (Or soccer if you prefer, whatever you call it, it still bores me to tears. And yes, I am heterosexual.) Nothing wrong with being a mark. In fact, I'll take it one step further.

I wish I was a mark again.

Yep, you read that right. I wish I was the same fan I was back in 1991 when, at the tender age of 15, I started watching. Back when there was still a tiny voice in the back of my mind suggesting that it might not be staged after all. Back when I was semi-convinced that Randy Savage DID take a shot of cobra venom for his art. Mind you, I was never taken in by Papa Shango. Even at the height of my naiveté I had my limits.

There'll be people out there laughing at me saying that right now. Go on and laugh, you know who you are but ask yourself one question. Who gets the best value out of the WWF? A guy that knows The Rock is off to make a movie in April or one that thinks the main event of 'Mania could go either way? That's a rhetorical question by the way no need to write in and tell me.

I remember back in 1993 when I was convinced that Tatanka was going to win the Royal Rumble. Yep, snigger all you want but I was on the edge of my seat from the moment he ran down the aisle until the moment he was tossed by eventual winner Yokozuna. That's what I call value for money.

I remember when I only owned one WWF video tape and I could happily watch it over and over and over again. When I came to sell my copy of "UK Rampage '92" a few months ago it had a layer of dust on it thick enough to make Imhotep sneeze. Back in 1992 I could even watch The Legion Of Doom V Colonel Mustafa and Dino Bravo over and over again. I only just bought ECW Anarchy Rulz '99 on DVD and, despite it being loaded with great matches, have only watched it once. Tell me again which one was better value for money?

But knowledge is a funny thing isn't it? The more you know about something the harder and harder it gets to enjoy it on it's simplest level. A bit like Pandora's Box, once all the secrets of the business are out then there's no putting them away again. I can't just flick a switch in my head and erase all the trivia in there nor, if I'm honest, would I really want to. After all, being able to recite every IC champ in order is tremendous for impressing women in nightclubs.

No wait, I dreamt that bit...

Chris Brooker
[slash] wrestling

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