For a lot of people pro wrestling blurs the line between entertainment and reality. Its an escape. A way tae leave the troubles you experience in every day life behind, and life vicariously through these superheroes. Superheroes who make a living fae kicking fuck outta their fellow superheroes, in a co-ordinated but chaotic way. Its organised chaos and at its best its fuckin captivating. It can make ye completely forget that this is all just a show. Ye become entrenched in these storylines, to the point of near delirium. It draws ye in, it makes ye believe obscene things to be true, and allows ye tae deny the blatantly obvious as it stares you in the face. Daniel Bryan has always been quite special in that regard, as he comes across as the everyman. A guy of average height and build, just like me and you (well he’s got smaller diddies than me, and probably didnae spend his Tuesday scrannin Jaffa Cakes, but thats no important right now) so the attachment tae him is a wee bit more real. When he was getting pumped fae aw angles in his pursuit of the WWE World Heavyweight Title ye felt like it was a personal slight, and when he finally prevailed at Mania, even if ye weren’t his biggest fan ye felt….somethin. A degree of pride. A happiness for him as a man, and as a wrestler, so when he came down the ramp tae start this weeks RAW, on the verge of tears, with his new wife Brie Bella waiting in the ring for him, yer heart just bled for the poor cunt. A wonderful 2 weeks, which should have been the launchpad for the best years of his professional and personal life, but life sometimes disnae want tae play ball.
There’s never a good time tae learn of the passing of a loved one, but when its someone as significant as yer father, and it comes at a time where pretty much everything ye could possibly want in life seems to be finally coming to fruition, its got tae be fuckin. I dunno. There’s nae words that dae it justice really, and while I admire his dedication for appearing on RAW at all this week, ye have to assume it was more of a tribute to his fathers memory than an overbearing love for the wrestling business, cause at times like these…the business just disnae matter. None of it does. Its a job at the end of the day. One Daniel Bryan does better than most, but one that really disnae matter a fuck. Get yersell up the road and gie yer wee mammy a cuddle Daniel san.
The segment was good and made hunners of sense, but I’ll no go on about it too much cause it just disnae matter. The pain etched on DBrys face as him and his new wife saluted the crowd in YES! chants wis heartbreaking, but perhaps it had never been more fitting as he thrust his fingers towards the heavens wae a wee bit more gusto than usual. . It was almost an act of staunch definace from DBry. Staunin out there in front of all those people, taking tombstone after tombstone from Kane, and huvin tae listen while Steph almost rips the pish out him as he gets wheeled up the aisle on a stretcher, when he probably just wanted tae go home. His auld da would have been proud of him. Basically the purpose of the segment was tae announce Daniel Bryan vs Kane for Extreme Rules, and the tombstones (one outside the ring, one on the steel steps and one on the announce table just incase yer wondering) helped sell Kane as a monster once again, but none of it mattered. What matters is that oor DBry is given as much time off as he needs.