El Pasco Texas: Ben Pasco apologizes for ruining Terry Funk’s retirement ceremony (and more)

Like most stories, this one begins with a girl. Unlike most stories, this one will end in a series of wrestling related anecdotes. A couple weeks ago I made the trek back to my old Alma matter of Bridgewater State University located in; you guessed it, Bridgewater Massachusetts. We had a weekly tradition during my senior year of heading to a wonderfully trashy bar every Thursday for Karaoke.   It’s full of hipster girls, gnarly old people, and two dollar beers aka Awwman. The troops were assembled and we were ready for a night on the town, but they didn’t know what they were getting themselves into. They thought we’d have a nice evening, but they weren’t aware of my secret weapon.

Denim Shawn Michaels vest.

The HBK vest has been a legitimate good luck charm of mine ever since I found it a week before King of Trios 2011. Every time I’ve brought the vest anywhere or worn it for a night, I’ve had nothing but absurdities surround it.  That vest has met the Great Sasuke and caused me to end up flirting with women who decide that kid in the denim vest must have a brass set of kahones. Anyways, I wore the vest out and proceeded to drink like there was no tomorrow because well…when you’re a college graduate with no job and dwindling finances then it always seems like there’s no tomorrow. So during the night, a girl came up to me and started talking and well, let’s just jump to the conclusion. I made out with a girl while she was wearing my HBK Vest….while I was singing All or Nothing by Otown…..while my friends were next to me…..in as visible a place in the bar as possible.

Cool Story Bro. AWWMAN!

I find out the next day, she is in fact a bisexual girl leaning towards her lesbianic qualities. She leans so heavily in the Ellen DeGeneres direction that she has a girlfriend who is none too pleased that I tongue molested her girl in front of the world. The next week I returned to BSU without the vest, which was a mistake, and found myself in a precarious situation. A series of events happened in which I end up talking to the girlfriend who is angry at me for continuing to text Otown Tongue Kissing girl, which I understand is a lackluster codename. In my drunken stupor, the beers are two dollars…what more can I tell you, I try to say I’m sorry but she is not having it. She was shutting down my apologies like an American auto plant shuts down its business.  Thinking fast, I ended up just trying to explain my sympathy to her plight by using the phrase OneRepublic over and over again.

It’s too late to apologize.

She walked away and I was left with my thoughts. First off, the fact I said that over and over again makes no fucking sense. I tried to use it as a verb, and instead it made me look like an idiot which is a noun. I had a brief moral dilemma of deciding how much I was actually in the wrong. The dilemma was so brief that it ended as soon as a song I knew the words to at karaoke came on the screen. That incident got me thinking about how wrong I am about a lot of things. I’ve got myself a bit of an ego, but I’ll gladly admit to people when I’m totally off base about something. This article is a bit of catharsis for me. This is an attempt to tell you all about all the things I was wrong or dumb about. Fact is despite this website, and fantastic sideburns, I’m still kind of a total mark. I can only hope these apologies find their recipients and that it’s not an OneRepublic situation.

I’m sorry, Chris Hero. I’m sorry for thinking he was the worst wrestler on the planet in 2008. I was an absolutely fanatical fan of the original Sweet and Sour Incorporated angle in ROH. I’m not taking away from later incarnations, but the initial 2007 run was full of some of my favorite memories in pro wrestling. The Tank Toland, Bobby Dempsey, Sweeney, Hero, Matt Sydal and Sara Del Ray lineup was so much fun and the highlight of every live show. Chris Hero as a Terrell Owens like character who just showboated and talked shit was tremendous. Then, Chris Hero decided to get serious. I remember being at The Hammerstein Ballroom when I first saw Hero come out as the Young Knockout Kid. I thought it was the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. Somewhere on the internet is a rant I went on about how ROH killed the best thing in the company and why anybody want to see these boring matches.  I legitimately thought Chris Hero was the worst wrestler in the world for about a year. Time has proven that that change led to Hero being a monster in later years, and eventually earning him a WWE contract.  Don’t ever let me claim to know what’s best for wrestling.

I’m sorry, Dad. I’m sorry I put you in the Crippler Crossface in 1999 and sent you to the hospital. In my defense, you told me you could survive any submission I put you in. It’s kind of your fault, but still sorry.

Sorry Chris, my bad.

I’m sorry, little brother. I’m sorry that from about 1996 to about 2006 you were the crash test dummy on whatever submission was popular at that point in wrestling. From the sharpshooter to the cattle mutilation, my brother served as a physics test of sort to the effectiveness of pro wrestling submissions. None was more feared then when he found himself in the grasp of the Lion Tamer. Luckily for him, he learned to lift his upper body up and punch me in the face at a young age. Now he goes to an acclaimed university in Oregon. Not a coincidence.

I’m sorry, Elementary school Extended Learning Program. When I was a young lad, believe it or not there was a school of thought that I might be smarter then everyone. As a result of this alleged knowledge, they put me in the Bryantville Elementary School Extended learning program. Basically, every Friday I would get to skip a class and go to a special class in the library. We basically got special assignments to do and well, I dug it. One assignment was to present a project about the job we most wanted. One girl wanted to be a conservationist, one kid wanted to be a doctor, and one little Benjamin Pasco wanted to be a pro wrestler. I had my mom, she’s a fucking saint for this by the way, make me fake gear and help me put together my project. Amongst my presented items was a drawing of pro wrestler Ben in the future year of 2010 ( by the way aside from the muscles, it was eerily reminiscent of clothes I would wear in later years) and a montage of images showing the bad side of wrestling which included the infamous Tommy Dreamer is a faceful of plasma picture. So, sorry to the Extended Learning Program for making you question why you even let me in. Also, I’m sorry to past Ben for not growing tons of muscle all over the place. I’ll do it tomorrow, I swear.

I’m sorry, my childhood best friend Chris.  I’m sorry that we got in a fight over who would be Crow Sting for Halloween. We both were huge fans, but my inner jealousy ran through and we got in a fight about it. We compromised by not going to each other’s neighborhoods for Halloween. For the record, I’ve seen the pictures and my costume was totally better.

I’m sorry, LJN Figures. I’m sorry for covering you all in sharpies and whiteout. I became a huge Apter magazine mark as a kid, and for some reason I became fascinated with puro coverage and especially the light heavyweights. So, instead of using Magnificent Muraco and Hercules Hernandez I covered them all with face paint and they all assumed the role of a Japanese wrestler. Roddy Piper became Hayabusa; Dynamite Kid became El Samurai, etc. All of them except Junkyard Dog, he wasn’t allowed to be a Japanese wrestler. It was the dark days before Bob Sapp, which I guess technically were also dark days.

I’m sorry, XFL. I’m sorry that I watched one game of yours and didn’t care when you were on TV. I’m also sorry that as soon as I could I bought a Memphis Maniax jersey which I wear during the Superbowl as often as possible. Now if I can only find a “He Hate Me” jersey.

I’m sorry, extended family who ordered my class pictures in 1995. I’m sorry that when you received said pictures, you got a photo of a bucktoothed kid in a bowl cut holding a Sting and Undertaker doll. The photographer said we could use props and a lot of kids brought stuff they liked. Me? Well I had those figures in my backpack anyways and now nobody can ever say I wasn’t a fan. My mom was not pleased.

I’m sorry, Ultimate Warrior inflatable bop bags. I’m sorry that I murdered five of you in the span of one summer. I’m especially sorry to the one I gave a big splash to from off my bed. It wasn’t even a PPV.

I’m sorry, cousin Mikey. I’m sorry I cheated in Super Wrestlemania against you. When my brother was being born, I spent a couple days at my aunt’s house while my mom shoved a baby out of her vagina.  My cousin paused the game to and left to answer the phone, but when he came back my Typhoon character had beaten the shit out of his Earthquake character. I denied all chances at a rematch and gloated.  I cheated like I was always told I must. Did I mention my dad was Jesse Ventura? No truth to the rumors I had thermite paint on my controller.

I’m sorry, Jerry Lynn. I fucking hate you so much and I just can’t enjoy anything you do.

Not impressed

I’m sorry, second grade partners for my project on Immigration. We had to present a skit where one of us was an interviewer and the rest of us were immigrants in the 1920s. My group wanted to keep it simple and they did, while I took it one step further. My name was Ivan Putski, and my father made hammers in Poland.  This happened.

I’m sorry, my friend Dan. I’m sorry to my friend Dan for double stomping the fuck out of him in a moonwalk once. Yeah let’s pretend this happened when I was a kid…..and not within the last three years…..yup.

The purpose of this article was to do something that I feel like most wrestling writers don’t do. I wanted everybody to know that I frequently think, or do, things that are silly and wrong.  As a reader, I’ve gotten over the idea of writers who know everything and can save professional wrestling.  I don’t know anything more than anybody else, so I try not to act like I’m some sort of savant.  I have realized my shortcomings and with this article, I hope you respect me for it.

When I founded this site, it was for the voices of those I like. It was a place for my friends to make their opinions heard without bias or censorship. I am not infallible, despite all my beliefs to the contrary sometimes. None of us are always perfect and sometimes we all need to take a self inventory and admit our mistakes.  I’ve been a wrestling fan all my life, and it appears as though my comprehension level is a lot like my time as a child. I’m just a guy with a website, trying to scheme my way into making internet money off of something I like doing. My name is Benjamin Pasco, and I am still a total mark to professional wrestling.

I’m sorry.

Contact us at itsrainingmeng@gmail.com with any feedback, ideas, or opinions.

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One Response to El Pasco Texas: Ben Pasco apologizes for ruining Terry Funk’s retirement ceremony (and more)

  1. Matt Ryan says:

    Very Well done piece. Kinda refreshing to see Ben apologize for things…

    Matt Ryan

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