Professional wrestling, or sports entertainment as the WWE likes to call it, is all about larger than life characters brought🐻 to life by its roster of athletes. John Cena was at first the Doctor of Thuganomics before transforming into an All-American patriot with an enduring love for a trio of tenets known only as hustle, loyalty, and respect. Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson will forever be known as the People’s Champion, while Stone Cold Steve Austin is the only man on Earth worthy of🔯 the Texas Rattlesnake moniker. Then you have the late, great, Bray Wyatt.
Also known by his real name, Windham Lawrence Rotunda, or as Husky Harris in rival brands prior to his time in WWE, most of us knew Wyatt as the Destroyer of Worlds. A showman who commanded a stable of fellow swamp lurkers who would turn the arena lights off and walk to the ring in a seemingly endless swarm of fluorescent phone lights emanating꧅ from the crown. In more recent times, he came back as a children’s television presenter with a multiple personality disorder, existing in what appeared to be another dimenཧsion where he would pull fellow wrestlers into a space defined by the greatest fears. It was ridiculous, but as a character he was convincing, frightening, and only goofy when it was pushed too far.
Wyatt passed away last week after a heart attack and complications with COVID-19, leaving us at the young ageꦺ of 36, and the wrestling community was left in mourning. Sta♚rs, fans, and industry figures all shared their condolences for a man whose brightest days were still ahead of him, with recent story developments of his character teasing some threads that could have resulted in an extensive championship run, or perhaps something greater.
The man leaves behind a grieving family and millions of loving fans who wanted nothing more than for him to return healthier, fitter, and more imaginative than ever before. Celebrity deaths rarely hit me hard, b𝓡ut a🧔s a lapsed wrestling fan who in recent years rejoined the fold, this one leaves a void that can never, ever be filled.
In recent times he would appear as a friendly, Pee-Wee Herman inspired character who at first glance was innocent and helpful, until the veil was lifted to reveal a monstrous creature known as The Fiend. It’s a mask and nothing more, but like all the greatest characters in wrestlꦗing, the acting and execution transforms it into something greater.
We all know a real person sits behind the role, and it’s possible for that fa🌃cade to be broken, but for Wyatt it never was. Whenever he entered the ring, through every win or loss, he became a f🐼orce to be reckoned with. Bray Wyatt is receiving such an outpouring of grief because we all loved him as a person and adored the characters he portrayed, knowing that he would have easily sat alongside Undertaker when it comes to dark, mysterious legends with unmatched ring presence and style.
To know we’ll never see him go further is heartbreaking, but we still have so many memories to look back on from his early matches with Daniel Bryan to more recent brawls with John 🐻Cena that played into the psychological horror that long grew to be his greatest storytelling asset. I don’t know how a funny, grinning swamp man can develop into something this intimating, but Wyatt made it possible and turned himself into a star.