How WrestleMania Helped Me Grieve

WrestleMania's first main event
Photo by WWE

By Kevin Hunsperger

@kevinhunsperger & @my123cents on Twitter

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It's funny how some dates stick with you forever. March 25, 1985, is one of those dates for me. It was a Monday afternoon when a good friend and neighbor, also named Kevin, died in a horrible ATV accident at the end of our street.

Back row left is me.  My friend Kevin is on the right

We were both in sixth grade and had known each other most of our lives. We played baseball together, rode bikes and spent hot summer afternoons 'pool hopping' between all the pools in on our tight-knit street. 

I still remember waving to Kevin as he walked down our street, eating a bag of potato chips. Less than two hours later, he'd flipped the three-wheeler he was riding and did not survive the accident.

I was crushed. In my 12 years of life, I had never experienced so much pain. I cried a lot in the days following Kevin's death. Children aren't supposed to die. I had a hard time understanding why it happened and wondered if I'd ever get over this loss.  

Wendi Richter & Cyndi Lauper
Photo by WWE

As that emotional week winded down, I had two things to look forward to. I was set to attend my first wrestling show at the Kiel Auditorium that Friday night to see my favorite wrestler, Kerry Von Erich, battle Ric Flair. (Pics from that night are too blurry to post.)

Then, that Sunday, the first WrestleMania was going to be broadcast via closed-circuit television. A family friend had invited my family over to watch. 

These events provided a distraction and the first opportunity I hadn't cried that week. I just enjoyed the moments.

I focused on the wrestling action. I cheered for Kerry and booed The Nature Boy when he tossed my hero over the top rope to get disqualified. 

Then on Sunday, I celebrated as my favorites like Hulk Hogan, Andre the Giant, Wendi Richter, and the Junkyard Dog won.  I booed villains Roddy Piper, the Iron Sheik, and Nikolai Volkoff.  

After the main event was over and we headed home, the reality set in again. I couldn't help but think about Kevin and his family, just a few houses down, as they were still mourning the loss of their son and brother.  I still miss him 34 years later and often think of him, wondering what he'd be like today as a 46-year-old man.

WrestleMania main event
Photo by WWE

When I think back on the first WrestleMania and write stories about it, I always associate that week of grieving with remembering how much I appreciate being able to get lost in the moment. We never truly get over such losses, but there are moments when we're distracted and can find pleasure. I'm glad I had the support of family and friends during that time. It may sound crazy, but in addition to those loved ones, WrestleMania helped me through what I consider the most challenging childhood.  

When I first posted this blog, I tagged "Rowdy" Roddy Piper in it on Twitter. He retweeted it. Just a few months later, we had lost Hot Rod, too. In a weird way, I'm thankful I wrote that blog when I did, and I'd like to believe he read it and knew the impact he'd had on my young life.