I would like to warn everyone right now that the following column is going to be highly emotional and might come off as rambling at some point. It is to say the least a very personal column. So with that being said if you wish to stop reading now you may do so. No hard feelings, see you next time. So now for those of you still reading I would like to welcome you all to a very special edition of....
Now there's so much that time, time and memory fade away
We got our own roads to ride and chances we gotta take
We stood side by side each one fightin' for the other
We said until we died we'd always be blood brothers
Bruce Springsteen
It was mid summer, the time of year when kids all across the country gather in backyards and in the small town streets to emulate their favorite sports such as football, baseball, or street hockey. For Mike and myself though none of those activities interested us much. We were first and foremost, wrestling fans. And it was with this in mind that sometimes stupidity would get the better of us and we would have our own 'backyard matches' (Keep in mind this was before the era of light tubes and chainsaws). It was never anything too physical just a clothesline here and a rare body slam there. But on this day that I am recalling right now something different occurred. You see my friend Mike was about two years younger and a hundred or so pounds lighter than myself, so lifting him up for me was about as difficult as picking up the Sunday paper.
It was with this logic in mind that I explained to him my desire to see if we could pull off a 'Tombstone Piledriver' in my backyard. In a decision that I'm sure he would later regret he agreed and I hoisted him up and flipped him over so that his head was facing towards the green grass below. All I have to do is hold on tight and keep his head from hitting the ground I thought. And so then I dropped to my knees and watched in horror as my friends neck snapped back in the opposite direction as to what I had originally envisioned. A second passed and I let him go. I say it was a second because in actuality that's all it was, but time has a funny way of stretching itself out in moments like this. I was almost one hundred percent certain that I had just broken my best friends neck. A feeling of utter puke inducing panic swept through me as I frantically looked down at him and asked the question that no one wants to hear when they've just been seriously injured.. 'Are you alright?'
Miraculously somehow I guess his head must have just narrowly avoided contact with the ground and he was okay. To say I was relived at that moment would have been an understatement of epic proportions. It was at that moment that I made a vow to keep all further wrestling related activities limited to television and video games. Mike's full name was Micheal Lee Key, but his friends always called him 'Hoad'. It was a nickname passed down from his grandfather. I have no idea what it means, so don't ask. Mike was like a little brother to me in many respects. And if you ask any big brother what his solemn duty to his sibling is, the answer I'm sure that will most often recieve is to 'protect and ensure your younger siblings saftey at all times'. Aside from making his life a complete and utter living hell that is. But that's only with real brothers. Which me and Mike were not. We were closer than that. We were brothers by choice.
Now to give you some backstory on who I was talking about up there, Micheal Lee Key was my best friend and across the street neighbor for about five years. I was about eleven or twelve when we first met. We didn't become friends for a good while later though due to an ongoing situation revolving around a girl whom we had both once laid claim to. However once all of that blew over, we began hanging out regularly at each others houses and in time developed quite the friendship.
One thing I should tell you about Micheal before I get too deep into this is that he was born with a severe case of Cerebral Palsy that affected his lower back and legs. He's probably went through at least twenty or so surgery's since the time I first met him to present day, but this is not a condition that can be cured sadly. It can only be 'treated' and lived with. But live with it he did, and admirably at that. I've heard from some people that it brought tears to their eyes just watching him walk across the street due to the obvious physical strain it put upon him. He never complained though. And I didn't mind. When you're a kid I guess things like that just don't matter that much. He was about my age and lived relatively close and enjoyed the same music, and TV shows that I did so we were friends. That was the beginning and the end of it.
One of the things that we most often conversed about besides women and other regular teenage related issues was professional wrestling. Keep in mind this was during the boom period of wrestling. It was the era of the original New World Order, a fresh and young 'Stone Cold' Steve Austin, and also the woman who gave us both our first glimpse of true sexual enlightenment; Rena 'Sable' Mero. The vision of those two black hand imprinted breasts bouncing softly in the air is one of those things that a boy at our age never really forgets. But enough about that. When we were hanging out chances usually were we were doing one of two things. That being watching wrestling, or talking about wrestling. Neither one of us had the Internet at this point. We were simple 'marks' who simply watched and enjoyed. I can never recall any discussions among us about 'ratings' or 'workrate' or any of those other things that you have to stop being a mark to think about. Instead all of our discussion revolved around who we wanted to see get their ass kicked and so on and so forth. It was a simpler time, one that I would be lying if I said I didn't miss just a little bit. Aside from just watching and discussing the sport though we also actively played it. On video games of course. Many hours that probably should have been spent doing homework or sleeping were joyfully wasted away battling with and against each other in various wrestling games.
There are those that criticize wrestling for desensitizing young children to violence at an early age, and therefore limiting their ability for social interaction. To the contrary of this throughout my life I have found wrestling to be quite the effective building block. It was the only thing me and my dad could ever even partially agree on. And also it was one of the key foundations upon which one of my most cherished childhood friendships was built. Apart from wrestling though, Mike and I used to go on long walks through our small town of Benton, Illinois together. The destination of said walks normally being a pool hall or game room of some type.
Neither of us could play worth a shit, but again it didn't matter. It was all about enjoying the time we had. As the years went on we continued to gather at either mine or his house to watch every single episode of Raw or Nitro that we could catch. It was more than just a wrestling relationship though. We were like I said before, brothers. It was with Mike that I drank my first alcoholic beverage. ( And my second and third respectively) Finally though around the time we both started high school his family moved to a different part of town. While we would still hang out and talk occasionally, it was at this point that we became more and more different entities. As it is with all high school kids we each would migrate to our own social 'cliques' and what not and our interactions soon became limited to simple nods and formal hello's whenever we would pass in the hallway. It would be this way for the remainder of both our high school years. Apparently childhood friendships are no match for the enormous pressure of fitting in in the ultra competitive high school social environment.
In fact the only thing that was strong enough to bring us together during those difficult high school years was, wrestling. A local indy fed who's name I have long since forgotten decided to run a show at our high school's gymnasium. I remember vividly purchasing the two tickets for this event. One for me, and one for Mike. For one night at least it would be like old times. Sadly though this event was far from what I'd call quality sports entertainment. The opening match was a sloppy mess in which the finish involved an uncooked turkey and a stuttering 'serial killer'. I barely remember anything besides that. Other than it was just a hilariously bad show. Needless to say, both Mike and I enjoyed it from start to finish. After the show though we both went our seperate ways again and re-entered the normal high school groove.
After high school ended and the people we once considered friends also began to drift away we got back into contact with each other. By this point I had gotten my drivers license so the issue of distance was no longer a factor. It felt good to reunite with my old friend and watch wrestling together again. In a way it was an acknowledgment that we had both reached 'adulthood' although neither of us was over eighteen at the time. Still though, it was good to have the silent walls of high school removed and simply be able to be 'real' again. Mike at this time went back and forth between living with his mother and his father whom had divorced years before. It was always a chore when I had to go pick him up since I would always forget to ask him who's place he was at. I never was what you would call a bright child you see. After our short reunion we would drift apart yet again. Not over any issues, it was just life pulling us in different directions. I would occasionally see him once every year or so and we'd talk for a while and share a laugh about the old days, but aside from that it was pretty much separate paths from that point on.
A few months after his eighteenth birthday Micheal finally gained his independance. He recieved a disability check that was enough to let him move away from his crazy family situation and into an apartment of his own. I remember being very happy for him when I found out about this. Not long after moving into his new place we started cruising the towns regularly again. Nothing major mind you, just the same old haunts that we'd once frequented as kids. This was probably the happiest I had ever seen him too. He was eighteen, full of energy and he had his entire life ahead of him.
Fast forward to early this year. I hadn't so much as heard from Mike in about a year ( or longer) when I suddenly got a phone call late in the night. Sure enough it was Mike's voice on the other end of the line. We exchanged formalities and then he asked if I wanted to 'hang out' at my place for a while. I agreed and then went to pick him up in my new blue Cadillac. I mention the car because owning a Cadillac had always been a dream of mine and I was excited to be able to show off my new possession to my old friend. Once I picked him up we went to my house and listened to music and talked about what all had been going on in our lives. Also we talked about wrestling.
I had just downloaded the Royal Rumble and we were both eager to see who won it. This year as fate would have it Rey Mysterio overcame the odds and won the event. Both Mike and myself were pleasantly surprised and flabbergasted by this turn of events. All the time we were hanging out that night my mind kept drifting back to that incident in my yard where I had almost broken my friends neck with that botched Tombstone. To think that I might have missed killing him by just a fraction of an inch is something that has always troubled me. As I said, during all those years that we were neighbors we became somewhat closer than just friends. Indeed, Mike felt much more like a brother to me than a best friend and I'm sure on some level the feeling was mutual. As we parted ways that night Mike gave me his phone number and said that I should call sometime. At this time I was twenty and he was nineteen. I figured in a year or so I would be twenty one and then we could finally go to a bar together and drink legally and also scope out the local ladies together.
So I took the number and stuffed it deep down into my pocket and then stored it away in my desk. It is only now that I have even bothered to retrieve it. I am holding it in my hand at this exact moment in fact. However, for a reason that I will never understand, that phone number I have is about as much use to me as an expired milk carton.
On Sunday May 21st 2006, my best friend and adopted brother Micheal Lee Key was out fishing with his father and his grandfather. Tragically the boat he was in overturned in the middle of the lake and Mike was submerged underwater for an elongated period of time. He was taken to a hospital afterwords where he was then pronounced dead at around 8:00 PM on the same Sunday of the accident. I have just found out about this today due to my dad telling me over the phone. His funeral was two days ago. I missed it. Every person has their own way of dealing with loss. Right now I've gone through about all five stages of grief in about twenty minutes. From deep paralyzing sadness, to anger that makes one want to drive his fist through a cement wall, to the bargaining and reasoning. If I could right now, I would gladly trade places with my friend. I know it's a morbid thing to say, but it seems sometimes that life has a funny way of dealing some people all of the shittiest cards right in a row. I still find it hard to accept that someone I was this close to who had to go through so much pain in his life should have to be taken in such a cruel and sadistic manner.
But, that's just life I guess. They say death is the great equalizer. But at this point I can scarcely see the equality at all in any of this. I don't want to turn this into an angry rant though. I am writing this right now because it's the only thing that I can do. It's the only way I have of saying goodbye and paying tribute to my friend. So to Mike, I pray that wherever you are right now that you have found the peace and comfort in death that eluded you in life and also that you enjoyed this trip down memory lane. And to quote Jim Ross who was referring to his late friend Owen Hart I would now like to echo those same sentiments. In that, I hope that I can live to become as good a person as you were, so that I may get to see you again someday.
That is all I feel like writing right now. Thank you for reading.
Now the hardness of this world slowly grinds your dreams away
Makin' a fool's joke out of the promises we make
And what once seemed black and white turns to so many shades of gray
We lose ourselves in work to do and bills to pay
And it's a ride, ride, ride, and there ain't much cover
With no one runnin' by your side my blood brother
On through the houses of the dead past those fallen in their tracks
Always movin' ahead and never lookin' back
Now I don't know how I feel, I don't know how I feel tonight
If I've fallen 'neath the wheel, if I've lost or I've gained sight
I don't even know why, I don't know why I made this call
Or if any of this matters anymore after all
But the stars are burnin' bright like some mystery uncovered
I'll keep movin' through the dark with you in my heart
My blood brother
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