Death of a Champion
This is a story about the gutsiest thing I’ve ever seen. Some might have differing opinions on what having guts really means. But to me, this was amazing. As many of you know (for those of you non-wrestling related this may be news) but my friend Steve Szoke died this past May after a bout with cancer took him too soon. “Diehard” as he was known was technically my boss since he hired me & allowed me to be the ring announcer, commentator & voice of Fire Pro Wrestling, which Steve owned & operated. Although he was the man in charge, I never stopped viewing Steve as a friend; albeit a very powerful friend.
I first met Steve during my time in the first wrestling organization I was apart of, Pro Championship Wrestling (P.C.W.), which was based in Elk Grove Village, IL. At the time, Steve was wrestling as Botch as part of a tag team called The Gravediggers. Why this is ironic is due to Steve’s “day job” as a minister. How many of you religious types can tell me that your minister has shoes that say “kick your teeth in” written on the toes? I didn’t think so.
Sometimes in wrestling, people say their personas are just extensions of themselves, which is what makes them so believable. In Steve’s case, you could tell he was having fun in a role that people wouldn’t expect him to fulfill. There was never any effort on Steve’s part to use P.C.W. as a pulpit to preach about his message. He was wrestling for the pure love of it…and it was a thing of beauty to watch.
Fast-forwarding to April 26th of this year (2008), at what turned out to be Steve’s final show & the last time I would see him alive. At this point, it was clear Steve was very sick & the hourglass was very quickly running out of sand. No one would’ve blamed Steve if he had decided that wrestling that night was not in his best interests…but he wrestled anyway. A man, dying from cancer, his body ravaged & his strength sapped, still goes out & performs to the best of his abilities. If this isn’t the best case of leading by example, I have no clue what is.
During that final show of Steve’s life, I was standing next to him when he got a call from one of the other wrestlers. The person who placed that call shall remain nameless. They don’t matter. During this call, the wrestler told Steve that he had a case of the flu & would be unable to wrestle that night. Now, here is a man dying from cancer being told by someone else that they were too sick to compete. I openly laughed at this. When someone is DYING, you have ZERO excuses to rival what they are going through.
I doubt Steve would say that last match was the best of his career. But that’s not the point. What matters is the strength a man dying exhibited in what turns out to be the third act of his life. Steve may not have let on, nor would he concede he ever gave up hope; but perhaps Steve knew the end was rapidly approaching & he didn’t want to pass up the chance to show his friends, family & fans that he had not given up. Maybe he knew it would be his last show & that would be his final opportunity to do something he loved. Or it could just be as simple as there was a show; he was scheduled to wrestle, so he did.
Once Steve passed away, shortly before the next Fire Pro show on May 31st, the decision was made to go on with the show. The event would become a memorial in his honor & as the public face of the company, I had the unfortunate task, but great privilege to open the show & set the tone for the night. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do given the scope of the night, especially since Steve’s funeral was earlier that morning. As I made my way to the ring, people were already crying & it was hard to hold it together for myself.
Often, when people pass on, you hear the saying “they would’ve wanted the show to go on” despite what happened. At times, I’ve found that to seem hokey & bit unbelievable. But in this case, with Steve’s favorite tag team of all time (the legendary Demolition) booked to wrestle that night, there is no doubt in my mind that the show should’ve gone on. It was a very emotional night & I spent the duration of the show exchanging stories with wrestlers on their memories of Steve for the DVD commentary.
Undoubtedly there were people who knew Steve better than I ever did. The majority of my interactions with him came as a result of my involvement in wrestling. Most of our conversations were wrestling related in scope. However, on show days, I spent a large portion of my time with Steve discussing how he wanted the night’s events to unfold. I felt a duty to do the best I could for him because as the owner of the company, he entrusted the role of the voice/face of the company.
Now that Steve is gone, I’ve been thinking about my time around him & reflecting on what happened during those moments together. I laugh when I think about the time I got in his doghouse when I said ass during a show (and did the best I could to avoid him for the rest of the night). But I can say I do have a regret as it pertains to my moments with him. I don’t have a single picture of myself with Steve. In hindsight, that would be something I’d change without question. Aside from that, I do consider myself lucky to have known & worked for Steve.
But he definitely left us too soon. No matter what, I’ll always remember Steve Szoke as the champion he was. But Steve didn’t need a belt to prove to me he earned that title…it just looked right to see him standing atop the mountain.
I first met Steve during my time in the first wrestling organization I was apart of, Pro Championship Wrestling (P.C.W.), which was based in Elk Grove Village, IL. At the time, Steve was wrestling as Botch as part of a tag team called The Gravediggers. Why this is ironic is due to Steve’s “day job” as a minister. How many of you religious types can tell me that your minister has shoes that say “kick your teeth in” written on the toes? I didn’t think so.
Sometimes in wrestling, people say their personas are just extensions of themselves, which is what makes them so believable. In Steve’s case, you could tell he was having fun in a role that people wouldn’t expect him to fulfill. There was never any effort on Steve’s part to use P.C.W. as a pulpit to preach about his message. He was wrestling for the pure love of it…and it was a thing of beauty to watch.
Fast-forwarding to April 26th of this year (2008), at what turned out to be Steve’s final show & the last time I would see him alive. At this point, it was clear Steve was very sick & the hourglass was very quickly running out of sand. No one would’ve blamed Steve if he had decided that wrestling that night was not in his best interests…but he wrestled anyway. A man, dying from cancer, his body ravaged & his strength sapped, still goes out & performs to the best of his abilities. If this isn’t the best case of leading by example, I have no clue what is.
During that final show of Steve’s life, I was standing next to him when he got a call from one of the other wrestlers. The person who placed that call shall remain nameless. They don’t matter. During this call, the wrestler told Steve that he had a case of the flu & would be unable to wrestle that night. Now, here is a man dying from cancer being told by someone else that they were too sick to compete. I openly laughed at this. When someone is DYING, you have ZERO excuses to rival what they are going through.
I doubt Steve would say that last match was the best of his career. But that’s not the point. What matters is the strength a man dying exhibited in what turns out to be the third act of his life. Steve may not have let on, nor would he concede he ever gave up hope; but perhaps Steve knew the end was rapidly approaching & he didn’t want to pass up the chance to show his friends, family & fans that he had not given up. Maybe he knew it would be his last show & that would be his final opportunity to do something he loved. Or it could just be as simple as there was a show; he was scheduled to wrestle, so he did.
Once Steve passed away, shortly before the next Fire Pro show on May 31st, the decision was made to go on with the show. The event would become a memorial in his honor & as the public face of the company, I had the unfortunate task, but great privilege to open the show & set the tone for the night. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do given the scope of the night, especially since Steve’s funeral was earlier that morning. As I made my way to the ring, people were already crying & it was hard to hold it together for myself.
Often, when people pass on, you hear the saying “they would’ve wanted the show to go on” despite what happened. At times, I’ve found that to seem hokey & bit unbelievable. But in this case, with Steve’s favorite tag team of all time (the legendary Demolition) booked to wrestle that night, there is no doubt in my mind that the show should’ve gone on. It was a very emotional night & I spent the duration of the show exchanging stories with wrestlers on their memories of Steve for the DVD commentary.
Undoubtedly there were people who knew Steve better than I ever did. The majority of my interactions with him came as a result of my involvement in wrestling. Most of our conversations were wrestling related in scope. However, on show days, I spent a large portion of my time with Steve discussing how he wanted the night’s events to unfold. I felt a duty to do the best I could for him because as the owner of the company, he entrusted the role of the voice/face of the company.
Now that Steve is gone, I’ve been thinking about my time around him & reflecting on what happened during those moments together. I laugh when I think about the time I got in his doghouse when I said ass during a show (and did the best I could to avoid him for the rest of the night). But I can say I do have a regret as it pertains to my moments with him. I don’t have a single picture of myself with Steve. In hindsight, that would be something I’d change without question. Aside from that, I do consider myself lucky to have known & worked for Steve.
But he definitely left us too soon. No matter what, I’ll always remember Steve Szoke as the champion he was. But Steve didn’t need a belt to prove to me he earned that title…it just looked right to see him standing atop the mountain.
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