Ah hell, I can't stop myself. This stuff is like a naracotic. For those who may not remember, here's my take on IVAN PUTSKI.
Putski used to wrestle in Ft. Worth. The natches were taped on Monday nights (Dallas ran their matches on Tuesday night -- I went to many of those matches). I assume he was popular in other part of the country, as well.
Anyway Putski used to wear this outfit that was like a leotard -- you know, it would wrap around his ass, go up his body and he'd have a muscle shirt, but it was all in one piece. Problem was, Puski was about 80 pounds overweight. So, he looked like a freak in that outfit. It's was freakin' hysterical just to watch him, kinda like the 50 year old guys you see in Florida wearing speedo walking the beach.
Anyway, Ivan Putski was supposedly from Poland. He was a conentration camp survivor. I swear, folks, I'm not making this up. Putski woudl walk around the rin, couldn't speak a word of English and would always manage to win his matches. It was the equivalent of watching Inspector Cluseau solve a murder case in the ring. He had the brains of a ant, but would stumble into the most beautiful act of athleticism you would ever imagine.
Case in point: Once I saw Putski wrestling "the Brute," who was a brainless mute the supposedly escaped from a Prison. Putski was smiling and with a face that resembled Luciana Pavorotti would glee at the audience never meaning to hurt a flea. The hysteria of the act was that Putski would stand there so gullible and the bad guy (in this case, The Brute) would do everything dastardly to win the match. trouble was, they would often trip themselves up with their antics. Putski would be thrown around the ring like a sock puppet and would get up with a loveable grin, innocent to the world. Then suddenly, The Brute would go for the kill, accidently stumble or slip up for some reason and Putski, exhausted would "accidentally" fall on top of The Brute for the pin and three count and the match. it was hysteria. I mean watching that stuff, and seeing 5,000 people jumping up and down watching a rigged match and "Ivan Putski" was like seeing the third act of La Triviada. I mean it was a freakin' masterpiece.
Oh man, don't get me started. I'm hyperventalating here.
NOlan Dalla