The World According to Ron 11.14.07: The Final Episode

As I wrote last week, I started writing for 411wrestling.com on October 16, 1999. In my very first column, I wrote about watching a football game involving Detroit in which a player was injured. They ended up driving the ambulance on the field, and if I remember correctly, the player actually died on the field and needed to be resuscitated.

I wrote that, thanks to recent booking on WWF television, I kept waiting for the player to jump up off the stretcher. I then wrote that watching wrestling had spoiled me when it came to watching other sports. I believe my conclusion went something like, “When I was in seminary, a good friend had his Jim Ross impersonation, which I now paraphrase: ‘Damn you, WWF! Damn you straight to hell!'”

Somehow, between typing those lines and sending them to either Wids or Ash Baby, the explanation disappeared, but the quote remained. I got a few complaints about being a practicing minister who had just damned someone to hell. All I can say is what I have learned in journalism class in college: if your article has a mistake, blame your editor. Ah, memories…

MY WORLD, AND WELCOME TO IT

I came up with the name, “The World According to Ron” because, well, it was exactly that: explanations of things happening in The World, as I saw them. Normally, the main body of my columns was about pro wrestling, but rarely was wrestling the only thing I talked about. Many times, I had more fun writing about non-wrestling events than the other way around.

Some people enjoyed reading about my favorite football teams on high school (Brooke, in West Virginia), college (Pittsburgh), and NFL (Da Stillers) levels, as well as the Pittsburgh Penguins in hockey, Milwaukee Brewers in baseball, Columbus Crew in MLS, and other sports I felt like writing about at different times. There were also my thought on different game shows, in which I am an aficionado (I just wish some station in the Cowlumbus market would pick up “Temptation,” the new version of “Sale of the Century”), comics, music, movies, and other lists from Christmas Eves past. Of course, others couldn’t wait to write to me every time their team beat one of mine.

One time, someone wrote that, with a name like Gamble, I needed a column name with more pizzazz, like, “Deuces Wild with Ron Gamble,” or something like that. I wrote that one of my favorite peripheral characters in The Simpsons was the helicopter traffic reporter, “Arnie Pie with Arnie in the Sky.” But still, I left it up to you to decide if I should change the column name or not. By a slim margin, “The World” stayed.

MARK MY WORDS

After “Survivor” showed up on American television, it was followed by many more “reality” shows on every single television channel, network or cable. While I have never watched “Survivor,” I decided there had to be some way to rip off the idea. With a little thinking, I came up with “The Mark-Up,” in which six people voluntarily gave up reading spoilers and news on all wrestling websites for six weeks, and would write with their insights on watching Raw, Nitro, Thunder, and Smackdown. The idea was to see if this here Internet was ruining wrestling fans, and if it was at all possible to regain the inner mark. The first time worked well, and introduced everyone to someone we here in The World know as “Smumdax.” He has written to me a couple times under his real name, Sebastien Something French, to tell me he got the name “Smumdax” because that’s what his signature looks like.

The second time we tried The Mark-Up was interrupted by the very first puking of my old Cowputer. Since then, the Dude Machine we got about three years ago has worked mostly without a hitch. With the exception of December 2006, any hiatuses (hiati?) since then are because of me.

EVERY EXPLANATION NECESSARY

I asked people to send in their answers to stupid things that happened every week on wrestling, usually Nitro or Raw. Why would Steve Austin drink a Busch NA? How would a group of tough guys from some “American Gladiators” rip-off show invade a Nitro broadcast in London by driving “all the way here from freakin’ America?” What could possibly be worse than seeing Mark Madden naked? Explain THAT?!? gave us answers to those questions and many more.

Thanks to that eclectic segment, we were introduced to Michael Joyeux, Michael Shockley, Big Daddy Kurt Dieckmann, and someone who became more or less a regular in this column. One week, I was not able to write a column, and I asked him to fill in for me that week. He was even nice enough to post a review of one of his favorite games, “Munchkin,” and got me to try it. After that, he was asked to contribute his own column. And, there you have the 411 evolution schematic of “Massive” Mathew Sforcina.

*RRRRRRRING*

Excuse me one second. Hello?… Oh, hi, Mat. What’s down?… Ah, I see. Hold on…

Mathew has some things he’d like to say, so the floor is now his. Mat, you’re on.

Ahem.

Goodbye, Good Luck, and for frick’s sake COME BACK ASAP.

Okay, they heard it… Thanks again, Mathew. Keep on rockin’ in the free world… Mat? It’ll be alright… C’mon! Turn that frown upside down!… Of course, I’ll still write to you and read your column, no matter what… Hey! Here’s an idea for a new Schematic. Have you done one on the TNA X-Division champion, Jay Lethal?… Okay, it was a thought. I’ll talk you later… Bye.

That Mathew. A great guy, but a little too sentimental.

For the record, one of my favorite “Explain THAT?!? questions also brought forth the most answers, and the shortest winner. Shortly after Steve Austin started wearing a new leather vest to the ring, I asked what the initials “BMF” stood for on the lower right front of the vest. There was a tie that week between two people who gave the same answer, but I went ahead and printed the response sent by my brother, Lance: “Be My Friend.”

LARRY’S TURN

I didn’t want to do this, but Ron offered me the time to talk, and I feel I owe it to him to do so. It’s funny. You would think that you wouldn’t forge such a good relationship with people over a computer, but then you do. Back in the day, when I discovered the internet and wrestling sites, 411 WAS my site to go to. I read the ramblings of many, Ashish as STONE9COLD was always there, running and growing the site, and while many others passed trough the doors of 411, as long as I can remember, Ron Gamble was there.

Many people have told me that reading my stuff for the last three years has made them feel as if they know me, and that is how I felt about Ron. When I joined 411, as the lowly TNA Recapper, Ron was there, friendly and supportive. He found out about my STEELERS love and that I was from Pittsburgh, and we seemed to have an even better connection.

Shortly after my hiring I was thrust into a position of power, which with my short tenure was odd. Things changed at 411, people left and we were thought to be dead. But 411-Lifer Ron Gamble stayed, he supported the new 411, the changes, the lean months early on and once again he helped build this site into what it has become though his work and support.

Over the years Ron and I have become closer, emails, OM’s and phone conversations. I thought for some time that the day may come, and unfortunately a recent phone call told me that. I can understand why Ron feels the need to walk away after 8-years. Like me he is a husband, father and a man that has a job to do. He is at a cross roads in his journey of being a wrestling fan. So while it saddens me, I understand and support his decision to leave.

In the end I have the honor to not only call Ron Gamble a colleague, but a friend. Today 411 loses an important cog in the machine, but they don’t lose a family member. Whether he comes back to 411 or not, Ron will always be a part of this family. The elder-statesmen of 411, and I mean that will all due respect. I need to tell you that I don’t like this one bit. I hate losing talented writers, especially when they are a friend. I hate writing this, but I want to pay tribute to a friend and talented person. 411 may be the MANIA, but Ron Gamble IS what made 411 what it is and will continue to be.

Goodbye, Farewell, and Amen indeed my friend. I thank you, the readers thank you and 411 thanks you.

CLEVELAND [CLINIC] ROCKS! CLEVELAND [CLINIC] ROCKS!

On November 4, 2002, on the evening before Election Day, I wasn’t feeling well. I told my wife I was giving up bacon and homemade French fries immediately. That night, I went to bed around 11:30, after watching Raw. Within five minutes, I woke up my wife, and asked her to take me to the hospital. We went to the emergency room at the hospital in nearby Ashtabula, OH, and I was admitted to the cardiac ward by morning. I went through some tests, and was told I had dangerously large blockages in three arteries around my heart. I was also told there was a new type of stent, coated with a special medication to prevent closure, which would soon be approved by the FDA. My wife and I went home and called her mother, a cardiac nurse, and asked for her opinion. The next day, we told the doctor we wanted to wait for the stent.

By late February 2003, the doctor said the stent was not yet approved by the FDA, but we could not afford to wait anymore. On March 4, 2003, Renee, her mother, my parents, and I went from our home in Conneaut, OH, to Cleveland Clinic. Dr. Marc Gillinov met with us, showed us the video of my most recent catheterization, and pointed to one spot on the video. “This blockage right here,” he said, “will lead to a fatal heart attack in about a week unless we do something today.” Within two hours, around 10am, I was wheeled into an operating room and given drugs intravenously to put me out.

About 6:30am the next morning, I woke up. I was told I woke up late the previous night and immediately panicked because I couldn’t breathe; there was something blocking my throat. It turns out, that was a breathing tube, which opened up my throat. Later that day, I was given a small lunch, and even helped out of bed, so I could walk a few steps. Around 10pm, I was taken to a room in the cardiac ward. Six days later, I was released from the hospital and told to straighten up and fly right. I’ve tried, but I admit it’s been very tough. I am eating a little better, and I’m exercising a little more often, but not as much as I should.

And, in case you’re wondering, I have had no bacon or homemade fries since. Now, if only I could give up all fries. However, as I told my friends in college, “grease” is my favorite food group.

POLITICS, POLITICS, POLITICS, POLITICS, POLITICS! YES! THE ROMAN SENATE! THE ROMAN SENATE IS THE BEST LEGISLATURE THAT MONEY CAN BUY!

In 2004, I moved over to another page, “411 Black,” which eventually morphed into “411 Politics.” I did this because I was tired of writing about wrestling, and wanted a new challenge. After the 2004 presidential primaries, I had to choose between George W. Bush and John Kerry. I wrote about holding my nose and voting for Kerry, although I desperately wanted another candidate.

This had nothing to do with any “swiftboating” of Kerry, and everything to do with the fact that Kerry just did not impress me at all. I know he’s a hero from the Vietnam War, and that he came home with three Purple Hearts, then came home and joined the anti-war movement. I know he took that experience and began a career in politics, which led to him being the Junior Senator from Massachusetts. But, the more I looked at his record in the Senate, the less impressed I became. Don’t ask me for specific examples right now; it’s been three years, and thanks to lots of side effects, I don’t remember much from that time unless I see it in writing or on video.

Within two days of the 2004 election, the analysis began. How did this man, an unpopular incumbent, end up winning re-election (or, if you’re like me and believe Al Gore really won Florida in 2000, election)? There were several answers, including “family values” voters, voters who were told voting Republican would prevent another terrorist attack, and twenty states including some kind of proposal to legalize gay marriage/civil unions/equal rights for homosexuals.

In Ohio, my adopted home state, the story was a little different. Ohio had all three of those factors, but it also had Ken Blackwell, Secretary of State and co-chair of the Ohio Bush/Cheney (re-)election campaign. Blackwell, it has since been proven, sent fewer voting machines to heavily Democratic districts and more to heavily Republican ones. Also, many machines sent to Democratic districts were less likely to have undergone required maintenance in the month before the election. It was all completely legal, but not exactly moral in the country that brought forth “one person/one vote” to the world. There were also accusations of pre-loaded software in several computerized machines, mainly from Diebold, whose chairman was quoted in the months before that he would do “whatever is necessary” to make sure Ohio’s electoral votes went to Bush.

If you’ve made it this far, you either know this already and agree, or you’ve skipped ahead to the end of the paragraph, waiting patiently to tell me how I’m a “misguided liberal Commie.” Either way, I’m now done talking about the 2004 election.

After being completely disgusted with the results and the reasons for such (okay, NOW I’m done), I wrote very sporadically for the Politics page in 2005. In the summer of 2005, it was time to go home.

YAHTZEE!

In 2005, shortly before leaving “411 Black,” I made a trip to Origins, an international board, card, and role playing game convention held annually in Columbus. I described my four days there with awe and reverence, because it was the largest gathering of game geeks I had ever seen.

My journey to that point began in October 2003, when I saw a notice in the local newspaper for something called the Columbus Area Boardgaming Society, or CABS. On First, Third, and the occasional Fifth Fridays, CABbies got together for several hours to play games that you couldn’t play on any kind of video console. I was hooked immediately, and have been a dues paying member ever since.

I missed Origins 2004, but I did make it to a smaller gathering, Buckeye Game Fest, in September that year. It was basically four days of CABbies, our friends who moved away, and other people who liked to play games not normally played at CABS meetings. While there, I was convinced I needed to get to Origins the next summer. I wrote about my experience at Origins in my column on July 14, 2005, and also wrote about my trips in 2006 and 2007, and included Buckeye Game Fest in 2005 and 2006. Trust me: not much happened at BGF 2007 for me.

My love of games also led to another popular feature: board game reviews. I’ve done many, and I’m sorry I didn’t get much a chance recently to do more.

TOGETHER AGAIN FOR THE FIRST TIME

In August 2005, I returned to the Wrestling page, but I still wasn’t happy. I needed to do something new, but I continued to write about wrestling, despite not watching much from anything coming from a certain company in Connecticut. TNA on Fox Sports and (later) Spike made up almost all of my wrestling viewing, although I was making it to more and more indy shows. In July 2005, I was going to go to a Ring of Honor show in Dayton, OH, but the person I was going to go with couldn’t make it. Since my wife and daughter were going to be gone for the weekend, I looked online to see if there were any other shows in central Ohio. I found out about a company called “NWA Ohio,” with a show on Saturday night in New Straitsville. I called to get directions, and found out it was about a two hour drive. I made it midway through the second match, paid my $10, and walked up to the top of the building, about ten rows. After three more matches and a battle royal, the show was over. I walked down to the ring and talked to the announcer, told him I wrote for 411, and after exchanging phone numbers, we went our separate ways.

Three days later, he called and asked if we could meet at a local grocery store. I went, and he noticed a young woman and fell head-over-heels in lust. I told him I knew her, and she was a youth leader in my church. He didn’t seem very pleased with that news. Just like that, my friendship with David F’n Lanning began. The jerk still hasn’t been to my house, but I still trust him with a lot more stuff than I ever thought I would after that first meeting. Today, Dave is a ring announcer and manager for several indy groups throughout Ohio, West Virginia, Kentucky, and Indiana. He even went up to Massachusetts with several wrestlers in November 2005, and has told me several stories since then. Juggulator, Chris Kahn, and Omega Aaron Draven should be worried if they ever make it big.

But, for some reason, Chance Prophet made it through the stories unscathed. Hmmmm…

JUST S’POSE GOD WAS ONE OF US? JUST A SLOB LIKE THE REST OF US?

And, that brings us to the final change to anything I wrote on the site. In the fall of 2005, there was a column by Mike Bowie called “Just S’pose.” I’m sure you know by now who “Mike Bowie” was, and my first column asked, “Just S’pose Gorilla Monsoon Bought the WWF from Vincent J. McMahon.” I liked the way it turned out, but since I was barely writing one column a week at times, I didn’t see myself doing two on a regular basis. I gave it up.

In early 2007, I was now completely fed up with Vince’s vision of whatever kind of crap he was showing on national television five hours a week, and didn’t think I could center completely on TNA, now that Vince Russo had a regular voice in the company again. Suddenly, I came back to Mike Bowie.

After one in particular, Just S’pose Magnum T.A. didn’t crash, I got the following reply:

Ron ….
Every so often, there comes a time when I read an article and feel compelled to respond. Not only was your article captivating, but I was moved to tears as I read about that fateful night in 1986 that changed our lives forever.
Thank you for handling such a sensitive topic as Terry’s accident with such integrity. Unfortunately, there are too many articles out there that ‘spoof’ my husband’s career as though he’s just a mere “handicapped has been” who is now unworthy of respect or allegiance.
Twenty years ago, Magnum’s physical body was stolen from him, however, his mind and his heart have grown to a capacity that few have ever experienced.
Thank you, for remembering (and writing about) such an amazing man!
Sincerely,
Courtney Blanchard-Allen (Magnum TA’s wife)

Mrs. Allen, I said it then, and I say it now: thank you for that reply. I am glad it brought joy to you and, I assume, Terry. It took a lot of self-control to keep from posting that before, and I hope you don’t mind my including it now. I hope the two of you know it was written by a true fan, and it was a story I wish was not make-believe.

I have had a lot of fun coming up with these “alternate histories,” and last week, I told the one story I knew I would have to tell. I still have a bunch more in mind, but I just don’t feel like I can do this on any kind of regular basis anymore. What led to this decision?

Four words: Nancy, Daniel, and Chris.

Mr. and Mrs. Michael Benoit welcomed a baby boy to the world in Montreal, PQ, on May 21, 1967. Less than 24 hours later, Mr. and Mrs. J. Ronald Gamble welcomed their own baby boy in Steubenville, OH. I had watched Chris in the ring and enjoyed his work, but when I found out his birthdate, it felt like we had a kind of kinship, even though he had never heard of me. With my health history, I never thought I would outlive him.

When I heard of the deaths, I was upset. The next day, when I heard of the alleged series of events, I went into a deep funk for almost two days. I wrote one final “World” column about a week after their deaths, trying to work out my feelings and show my grief for Nancy and Daniel.

In September, I heard about the results of Chris’ autopsy. Thanks to undiagnosed concussions, he had the brain of an 84-year-old Alzheimer’s patient. Vince and Linda McMahon refuse to accept any responsibility for this.

If I may: I’m not saying the McMahon’s are completely at fault for this. Chris wrestled in many places before moving to Vince’s FantasyLand. He allegedly took many growth hormones before working there. But, from the time Benoit signed with the WWF in 2000 until his death, you’re telling me there was nothing anyone in Stamford could have done, nothing anyone could have seen, to prevent this? Is it much better, instead, to simply state, “No one could have foreseen Chris turning into this monster,” and make it sound as if he was solely responsible for his brain damage, that you, Vince, and not Nancy and Daniel, are the innocent bystander completely damaged by his actions? Is it simply easier to refuse to look at any evidence that something could have been done, so you can claim you have no idea what the evidence is?

Screw You, Vince. For the very last time, Screw You.

I’M SO GLAD WE HAD THIS TIME TOGETHER

Before I go, I have just a few more things to say.

First, Scott Shannon. The very first things I wrote online were posted on his “Rantsylvania,” in the summer of 1999. He had no idea who I was, and may not even know I posted stuff on there until now. Thanks for giving me a start, even though you didn’t know you did.

In September, my brother, Lance, emailed me and asked if I had heard about this site, 411wrestling.com. They’re hiring writers, he said, and all you have to do is send them a sample. Everything that has happened online in the past eight years is your fault, Lance, and I thank you for that.

My sample column went to two people: Ashish Pabari and Jonathan Widro, aka Ash Baby and Wids. They both decided I was a worthwhile waste of cyberspace, and so I got a shot. To both of you, thanks for giving a bum an even break.

Back in the early days, before Wids took a bunch of guys to the Illustrious oPposition, I had some brief correspondence with two people. One of them, Dave Gagnon, was here when I arrived. He left about six months later, and I still don’t know why. I tried to bring him back for the second, aborted round of “The Mark-Up,” but was overruled. Dave, thanks for being a complete goofball, so my idiocy would be overlooked by the Big Guys.

After Dave, there was the newest goofball, Joshua Grutman. I wrote to him one time and told him I was considering writing a book, and asked if he would be willing to act as editor. In a drunken haze, he agreed. I never wrote the book, and I doubt he remembered, anyway. Grut, I thank you for allowing me to think big, even allowing my reach to exceed my grasp, or something like that.

Michael Joyeux, Smumdax, Ralph, and others who wrote to me on a regular basis let me know that someone, somewhere, actually cared what I had to say. Thanks for making this fun, and for letting me know that you, also, had fun.

Eric Szulczewski’s Chicago White Sox won the World Series in 2005, for the first time since 1917. Eric, being a loyal Sout’sider, loved every second of it. Three months later, Da Stillers won Super Bowl XL, their first championship in XXVI years. I still am not sure which is worse: having your favorite team last win a championship before your parents were born, or having them win a bunch when you’re a kid, and nothing since. The best part is, both of us now have adult memories of titles. Thanks, Eric, for making me so jealous of what you wrote that I desperately tried to get better.

In 2002, I wrote that Pitt had a chance to beat Miami and win the Big East (this was Before Wannstedt, when Walt Harris was coach). Big Daddy Kurt Dieckmann wrote and said he would root for Pitt, if I would root for Ohio State over Michigan. I looked up his phone number, called him up, and told him it was a deal. A few months later, when we moved back to central Ohio, he invited us to his church. Thanks for your kind invitation then, and thank you for allowing me to watch your family grow by adding a couple linebackers.

In 2004, I received an email from Spencer Baum. He had just published a novel, “One Fall,” and said he would like to send a copy of the book to me, as a “thank you” for writing here. Spencer, thank YOU for that book. It still sits on my bookcase, next to the bed. I’ve read it several times, and each time, I find myself recognizing more and more characters and their real-life counterparts. When your next book comes out, let me know.

In 2005, Nick Marsico wrote on the 411 boards and asked if anyone would be interested in being a guest on an Internet radio show he co-hosts, Rocketbusta Radio. I accepted the invitation, and later that year, I was voted by the listeners as “favorite guest.” Thanks to Nick and William Washington, the host, for giving me a chance to talk instead of write. One of these days, when my daughter learns not to sign on to AIM after midnight, we might be able to get back online at home, and I can listen again.

J.D. Dunn, Stephen Randle, and Ari Berenstein all said their good-byes to me in their columns this week. With writers like them, I feel I’m leaving the site in good hands. Thanks for the kind words, and don’t make me come back here and kick your butts, okay?

Larry Csonka, who is apparently a nephew of THE Larry Csonka, and The Wife, aka Christy, do a podcast, now available here on 411, after every pay-per-view, and occasionally just because. Before that, though, Larry was more than just some schnook. He has been the second-in-command schnook here at 411 for a few years. He is also from a small little corner of the world we like to call Southwestern Pennsylvania, near Da ‘Burgh. He and I share a love for almost all things Black and Gold (with one exception: I am a Milwaukee Brewers fan, after all). I found out two years ago that he and I were at the same Ikea in Robinson Township less than two hours apart, a couple days before Christmas. If only I had known, Christy, Hana, and he might have been able to meet with Renee and I (our kid was with grandparents) and go to the nearby Bravo, or at least Max & Erma’s. Larry, thanks for all you’ve put up with from me for the past few years. Christy, thanks for putting up with him giving up valuable family time to do this.

Before I forget, a question for Christy: at the end of a podcast a couple months ago, Larry was talking about “carpet matching the drapes.” The very last thing I heard was you saying something about preferring a “bare floor.” Did Larry help you lay down the hard wood for your bare floor? Or was that one of them there “double entendres?”

Or did I just make another one?

Finally, to you, Dear Reader. When you would write to me and tell me I was a talentless hack, at least I knew you cared enough to read, and even more than that, you cared enough to respond. When you would write to tell me I was a talentless hack several weeks in a row, I knew I had done something special.

Thank you, thank you, thank you. I could never have done this without you.

What am I going to do now? I might just have to write a book.