JohnCenaFan28
12-09-2009, 07:28 AM
In the coming days, there will be much written, with the usual fingers pointed, about professional wrestlers dying before they reach 40.
It is a sad and frighteningly long list. You will hear about punishing schedules and steroids and pain pills and alcohol and illegal drugs.
That's not for now.
Edward Fatu died last week. He was only 36. He was one of the biggest wrestling stars in the world. He won championship belts in every company, in every country he worked.
Fatu's wrestling character, Umaga, was wild and out of control. He was a rule-breaker. His hair was braided, and his 375-pound body was covered with traditional Samoan tattoos. He had a ring though his nose.
He rarely spoke on TV. Mostly he howled something bloodthirsty before thrusting his taped thumb, the dreaded Samoan Spike, into his opponent's throat. Nobody got up after the Samoan Spike.
So fans probably would be surprised to learn that this vicious beast called Umaga, the “Samoan Wrecking Machine,” was born in San Francisco, spoke perfect English, though in a quiet voice, and lived in Spring with his wife and four children.
Two years ago, around the holidays, Umaga made an appearance at a small wrestling show in Pasadena promoted by his buddy Booker T.
Umaga, the announcer said, would be hanging around the lobby autographing photos for $10.
I told my son and his friend Spencer, here's some money, go get his autograph. For some weird reason, even though he was a lowdown dirty villain, kids liked Umaga. Maybe it was because Umaga looked like a big chubby kid with war paint and tattoos all over his body. I was very surprised when, at his death, I learned that Umaga was 36. I figured he was maybe 25.
Half an hour later, Spencer's dad and I went looking for our boys. They were in the lobby, talking with Umaga. He was dressed in jeans, a rock 'n' roll T-shirt and sneakers. His face had no war paint, no ring in his nose. He looked almost normal — for a wrestler.
“He speaks English!” the kids said. Even more surprising, he didn't take their money for his autograph. “He said it was Christmas and told us to use the money for presents for our parents.”
Fat chance that happened. If you're not familiar with the wrestling business, a wrestler turning down free money is spectacularly, unfathomably unbelievable.
The autographed Umaga photo is still on my kid's wall.
“Umaga” is a Samoan word. It is the final and most painful part of the Samoan tradition of covering the body with tattoos. The stomach goes last. With Umaga, it probably took the longest, too. He had a big belly on him.
Fatu was born into the wrestling business. His father and uncle were the original Wild Samoans tag team. His brothers are wrestlers, Rikishi and The Tonga Kid. His cousin is Dwayne Johnson, better known as The Rock.
Former WWE diva Torrie Wilson has three dogs. Her English bulldog, Uce, was a gift from Umaga. “Uce” means brother in the Samoan language.
Umaga recently competed on Hulk Hogan's wrestling tour of Australia. Last Friday, his wife found him unconscious in their living room. He was bleeding from his nose. He was taken to Northwest Medical Center in Houston, where he apparently suffered a second heart attack and died.
In 2007, Umaga competed in his most famous match at Wrestlemania 23. He represented WWE owner Vince McMahon against a musclebound lunk named Bobby Lashley, who was representing Donald Trump. It was a hair vs. hair match. If Umaga lost, McMahon would have his head shaved in the ring.
Umaga lost. Hooray for Umaga. Baldy McMahon was awfully embarrassed the next night on Monday Night Raw.
Bruce Prichard, a former executive with WWE, knew Umaga his entire pro wrestling career.
“Eddie, or Eki as I came to know him, came from a long line of Samoan greats. He was arguably the best of the bunch. The funny thing is that the human being was so opposite of the animal he portrayed on air. He was the epitome of sweet, a true kindhearted, loving giant of a man,” Prichard said.
His aunt Lynn Anoa'i remembers the time when Umaga came to live with her family one Christmas in the early 1990s.
“We put up some lights and window decorations to celebrate the season,” she said. “Our neighbors went out of their way to top what we did. So my husband, ‘Afa the Wild Samoan,' and Eki … took some wood and made a giant cross. Eki climbed on our roof and put the cross there. He added Christmas lights, and when the sun went down, you could see our house glowing from miles away. Eki was so proud of his work.”
“I am so sad that he left us at such an early age,” she said, “but I am proud that he was a member of my family.”
Source: CHRON
It is a sad and frighteningly long list. You will hear about punishing schedules and steroids and pain pills and alcohol and illegal drugs.
That's not for now.
Edward Fatu died last week. He was only 36. He was one of the biggest wrestling stars in the world. He won championship belts in every company, in every country he worked.
Fatu's wrestling character, Umaga, was wild and out of control. He was a rule-breaker. His hair was braided, and his 375-pound body was covered with traditional Samoan tattoos. He had a ring though his nose.
He rarely spoke on TV. Mostly he howled something bloodthirsty before thrusting his taped thumb, the dreaded Samoan Spike, into his opponent's throat. Nobody got up after the Samoan Spike.
So fans probably would be surprised to learn that this vicious beast called Umaga, the “Samoan Wrecking Machine,” was born in San Francisco, spoke perfect English, though in a quiet voice, and lived in Spring with his wife and four children.
Two years ago, around the holidays, Umaga made an appearance at a small wrestling show in Pasadena promoted by his buddy Booker T.
Umaga, the announcer said, would be hanging around the lobby autographing photos for $10.
I told my son and his friend Spencer, here's some money, go get his autograph. For some weird reason, even though he was a lowdown dirty villain, kids liked Umaga. Maybe it was because Umaga looked like a big chubby kid with war paint and tattoos all over his body. I was very surprised when, at his death, I learned that Umaga was 36. I figured he was maybe 25.
Half an hour later, Spencer's dad and I went looking for our boys. They were in the lobby, talking with Umaga. He was dressed in jeans, a rock 'n' roll T-shirt and sneakers. His face had no war paint, no ring in his nose. He looked almost normal — for a wrestler.
“He speaks English!” the kids said. Even more surprising, he didn't take their money for his autograph. “He said it was Christmas and told us to use the money for presents for our parents.”
Fat chance that happened. If you're not familiar with the wrestling business, a wrestler turning down free money is spectacularly, unfathomably unbelievable.
The autographed Umaga photo is still on my kid's wall.
“Umaga” is a Samoan word. It is the final and most painful part of the Samoan tradition of covering the body with tattoos. The stomach goes last. With Umaga, it probably took the longest, too. He had a big belly on him.
Fatu was born into the wrestling business. His father and uncle were the original Wild Samoans tag team. His brothers are wrestlers, Rikishi and The Tonga Kid. His cousin is Dwayne Johnson, better known as The Rock.
Former WWE diva Torrie Wilson has three dogs. Her English bulldog, Uce, was a gift from Umaga. “Uce” means brother in the Samoan language.
Umaga recently competed on Hulk Hogan's wrestling tour of Australia. Last Friday, his wife found him unconscious in their living room. He was bleeding from his nose. He was taken to Northwest Medical Center in Houston, where he apparently suffered a second heart attack and died.
In 2007, Umaga competed in his most famous match at Wrestlemania 23. He represented WWE owner Vince McMahon against a musclebound lunk named Bobby Lashley, who was representing Donald Trump. It was a hair vs. hair match. If Umaga lost, McMahon would have his head shaved in the ring.
Umaga lost. Hooray for Umaga. Baldy McMahon was awfully embarrassed the next night on Monday Night Raw.
Bruce Prichard, a former executive with WWE, knew Umaga his entire pro wrestling career.
“Eddie, or Eki as I came to know him, came from a long line of Samoan greats. He was arguably the best of the bunch. The funny thing is that the human being was so opposite of the animal he portrayed on air. He was the epitome of sweet, a true kindhearted, loving giant of a man,” Prichard said.
His aunt Lynn Anoa'i remembers the time when Umaga came to live with her family one Christmas in the early 1990s.
“We put up some lights and window decorations to celebrate the season,” she said. “Our neighbors went out of their way to top what we did. So my husband, ‘Afa the Wild Samoan,' and Eki … took some wood and made a giant cross. Eki climbed on our roof and put the cross there. He added Christmas lights, and when the sun went down, you could see our house glowing from miles away. Eki was so proud of his work.”
“I am so sad that he left us at such an early age,” she said, “but I am proud that he was a member of my family.”
Source: CHRON