This past Friday, I heard of the passing of Gordon Solie. While it was a death that I had been expecting for a while, it was still one that filled me with great sadness.

I remember first seeing Gordon Solie on television in the late '70s. I was just getting into the sport, and had been watching Mid-Atlantic Wrestling at my home in North Carolina. All of a sudden, another station began offering Championship Wrestling from Georgia. Solie was the announcer then, and he got me hooked permanently into wrestling.

A few years later, my family moved to Florida, and I began watching Championship Wrestling from Florida. Solie was there as well, and I continued to drink in his descriptions of the matches. A few months later, we finally got cable, and I was able to watch Georgia Championship Wrestling once again.

Back then, televised wrestling was a bit different. There were no pay-per-views, no huge cable contracts, and no Monday night wars. You either got your wrestling fix by television on Saturdays, or at house shows, which were usually held in a high school gymnasium or a National Guard armory. And what was usually put on television was a parade of "squash" matches. One of the name wrestlers would take on some no name that was doing it in hopes of moving up from the so-called "flea market" leagues. Somehow, Solie could take these squashes and make you believe there was a possibility someone like, say, Frank Williams could upset Dusty Rhodes, even if poor Frank was getting the ever-living snot beat out of him.

For me, wrestling was the sport of kings, and Gordon Solie was my Red Barber, my Keith Jackson, my Marv Albert, rolled into one exquisite, raspy voice. He made every match, every interview, every moment of each week's program worth waiting for. He made you believe what was happening was real, even if it was the most contrived, overplayed wrestling cliché in history.

I can still hear him describing an in-ring brawl as a "pier sixer". I still relish how he would describe bleeding wrestlers as wearing a "crimson mask". I especially remember correcting him from my easy chair every time he pronounced suplex as "su-play"; it would be several years and an abortive attempt at learning French before I discovered he had been pronouncing it in the French style all that time.

Over the past few days, I've tried to consider who would be in Gordon Solie's league as a wrestling announcer. Gorilla Monsoon was good. About 10 years ago, Tony Schiavone was the man I thought would have been able to fill Solie's shoes. Mark Lowrance (who worked in World Class/the USWA) was decent. Lance Russell was great. Jim Ross is the best in the business right now. Mike Tenay or Scott Hudson could be great if they would be given free reign.

None of them can hold a candle to Gordon Solie, though. He was a pioneer, and I think it's safe to say that everyone broadcasting wrestling today owes a HUGE debt of thanks to Solie.

Thank you, Gordon, for your years of dedication to this sport, and for giving a little hick from North Carolina such wonderful memories.