#and like everything he has ever done has been some saintly undertaking

[mxtxfanatic]

LOL idk whether to be proud or offended, but y’all… I promise you I am not and will not turn into a mu qing stan just because the edits seem to soften up his edges a little 😭 I would still like to see him punished for his crimes 😈😈😈

[keepingupwiththekayfabe]

It’s hard to explain pro wrestling to someone who isn’t a fan. The suspension of disbelief that is often required immediately leaves some people already checked out before you can even say the word “kayfabe”, and the amount of storytelling, choreography, and performance art required in the modern day WWE-style event is often more than even the most lavish and overproduced theatre production.

All the more surprising, then, is the fact that the most enduring and legendary character in wrestling history is an undead zombie warlock wizard man named The Undertaker.

For over a quarter of a century, The Undertaker has ruled the WWE ring – his yard – and along the ride he’s dug thousands of holes for thousands of souls for them all to rest in peace within. This may or may not be a metaphor, no one really knows.

Having been introduced to us all as a grave-digging funeral home owner (or something like that, lots of early ‘90s wrestlers had gimmicks related to professions such as dentistry and hairdressers, obviously), The Undertaker was an imposing, intimidating near seven footer behemoth. Dressed in all black save for some eerie white gloves that matched his pale complexion, the Deadman quickly grew a legion of fans across the globe that adored his spooky, supernatural performance.

Everything points towards The Undertaker being more of a bad guy than a good guy - how many horror films end with the zombie getting the girl, at least romantically? Despite that, you’d still be hard pushed to find someone who dare even think about booing the veteran, and with good reason.

Undertaker has almost always fought with heart, courage, pride, and passion. Whether he’s fighting off some young buck who’s trying to besmirch his legacy, or taking down evil in the name of justice, the seven time World champion isn’t afraid to throw down with the best of them and do what’s right.

He exudes coolness in a way that no one else does, like a cowboy riding into a last chance saloon when everyone is down. The way he stands sends a message to everyone around that he is, frankly, not to be fucked with, and his arrival into every arena and stadium is electrifying. From his ethereal entrance to his climactic exit, he commands the attention of the crowd like no other, often ushering silence when he speaks and cheers when he fights. One of his old entrance themes is even featured in our intro jingle, just because of how much I like it.

The best kind of wrestling is the kind that you can watch with the sound off and still understand the dynamic of; if you can watch a match without the commentary and crowd noise and still comprehend the story being told, it’s doing its job right. That principle applies to no one more than The Undertaker, who utilises strength, speed, and smarts to overcome the very best, and any given match of his is a master class in teaching respect and humility to his unlucky opponents.

Simply put, The Undertaker is the absolute best.

It’s the reason why, when my school friends were introducing me to wrestling and we would put on pretend matches on the playground, I would always be The Undertaker. This started out by accident, as they’d all pick The Rock, Triple H and Stone Cold Steve Austin before I got the chance to pick, and I’d get dealt the role of the Phenom. They all quickly realised that actually they wanted to be him, but it was too late – I’d already tombstoned their heads into the concrete and buried them alive. Metaphorically.

It’s the reason why, even when he was beating up plucky young rookies like Maven and well-established legends like Ric Flair, I still rooted for him in the face of his less-than-saintly actions (at this point, his theme music was a Limp Bizkit song, so maybe it was a sympathy vote).

It’s the reason why, when playing wrestling video games, I would always pick The Undertaker. I know his move set inside out, and would spend hours tapping away in order to be the best Undertaker I could be in a virtual setting.

It’s the reason why I’ve always enjoyed any of the darker, broodier characters WWE has had, because they remind me of him. Whether it’s the hits (The Wyatt Family, SAnitY, Finn Balor) or the misses (Mordecai AND Kevin Thorn), they’ve always spoken to me on the same level of enjoyment I get out of Undertaker, because the supernatural and superweird bits of wrestling are some of the best.

And it’s the reason why, upon his apparent retirement at WrestleMania 33, I’m at a total loss for how to feel now. Having left it all out there in the ring during one final match with Roman Reigns - including his signature hat, cloak and gloves – we now exist in a world without The Undertaker. Sure, he only showed up a few times a year at this point, but that was part of his mystique; would he be showing up tonight? Will we hear that fateful GONG to signal his arrival?

That allure is now gone, and with it arguably the cornerstone of WWE. Modern day wrestling is now missing an anchor that it’s had for nearly 26 years, and the biggest attraction in Vince McMahon’s arsenal of superstars and performers is done, seemingly for good. Despite wrestling across three separate decades, it still feels like it was never enough, and the WWE Universe is rightly grieving over the loss of its finest and most loyal hero.

All we can say is thank you, and that’s all he’d ever want anyway.

#ThankYouTaker