FanPost

NXT Columbus: A reminder of why it's still real to me

The rotund gentleman whose lap I was sitting in seemed like a perfectly nice guy.

The hazards of public events like concerts, sports, and professional wrestling are also usually the ones you cannot control. Last Saturday night, I was sieged upon with these plagues, like a modern day Pharaoh in a Kevin Owens shirt.

Does that mean Triple H is Noah? I digress.

I experienced further tribulations after 2 rainy hours in line outside of the LC Pavilion this past Saturday in Columbus. Alongside my wife and two of our friends, we ventured into a venue buzzing with anticipation. Passing a line of around 20 people long for the only food stand in the building, we pushed through the crowd to the ringside pit where our seats were.

2hxyvip.0.jpg

Kyle Northrop

The normal pre-show activities occurred around us: People arguing over where their seats are, random folk stopping to ask if you're in the correct seat because they've forgotten how to read, a drunk man spills his thirteen dollar beer in front of the medics.

Such is life.

Five minutes before showtime is when I met Greg, the aforementioned bulbous man whom I would soon become very close to. One of the many difficulties of events like these is an inability to pick your seating neighbors. In this case, the tied together in a row, metal chair next to mine was inhabited by Greg, who took up half of his friend's seat and a third of mine.

Don't get me wrong: Greg was a great guy. I really did enjoy talking to him. I less enjoyed the part where I had to straddle two chairs for three hours while my wife attempted to ignore the fact that I was, by default, also sitting on her.

Hungry, sweaty, covered in rain, and beginning to question the sanity of paying 70 dollars for a wrestling show, my mood had shifted downward.

All of that changed once the NXT Live video began and three performers from Jersey assessed how I was doing. Through the magic that is the art of professional wrestling, the problems of the day melted away and revealed the heart of why I truly love wrestling.

3179lrt.0.jpg

WWE

There's something energetic, kinetic, and electric about sharing a space like NXT with other like-minded individuals that share in something you love.

Whether it was the pre-teen girl wearing the Tyler Breeze shirt that lit up like a neon light upon seeing the King of Cuteville or my dear friend Greg who stood the entire time to be one of sole supporters of Baron Corbin, the infatuation was contagious.

Even something as innocuous as a lowly chinlock by the NXT champion was to be celebrated. Commons links and bonds forming between a warehouse of complete strangers.

What truly sticks with me is the metamorphosis that occurred that night in my own wife. A casual fan who first started watching wrestling with me around WrestleMania of last year, she's grown into an admirer of the technicality and physical prowess of the sport.

Where once she probably questioned the sanity of watching three hours of bad acting and sweaty gymnastics every Monday, we now talk in detail about booking, character development, and her irrational love of Seth Rollins and hatred of Dana Brooke.

That night in Columbus, as my wife stared up at the larger-than-life Charlotte entering the ring, I saw the same look on her face that I had many years ago upon seeing Shawn Michaels and Steve Austin capture the attention of the wrestling world.

10oig04.0.png

WWE

By the time Finn Balor, Samoa Joe, and Kevin Owens entered the ring and tore down the house, my wife -- along with an entire building of people -- were entranced by the sheer magic being created in front of us. Kevin Owens took a powder out of the ring as soon as the match started, standing in front of our row, watching his competition and blocking the view of our entire row.

As the pit chanted "Rest Owens Rest!" at the champ and I heard my wife's hoarse voice snapping the air like a whip with the rest of the group, I realized that it was a moment in time that could never be taken away. I will always remember this night, this moment of fleeting wonder that professional wrestling has given to those of us lucky enough to let it take over completely.

I'll even remember Greg, wherever he is now.

Most of all, I'll remember that professional wrestling will always be real to me, dammit.

Will Harrison is a journalist covering the video game industry in Toledo, Ohio. He also covers the completely real world of professional wrestling. Contact him @DoubleUHarrison.

The FanPosts are solely the subjective opinions of Cageside Seats readers and do not necessarily reflect the views of Cageside Seats editors or staff.