An obvious trend has emerged in the early days of Kanefabe Writing and in the relaunch of this newsletter.
I am 40 years old, and I am feeling connected to athletes and public figures who are in the same stage of their lives. I have noticed some other guys who are also dealing with changes. We're getting older together.
Those observations have mostly been on the lighter side of things. They have mostly been an excuse to note that we're all just doing our best out here, regardless of our age, and to poke some fun at what doing our best looks like when it involves gray beards and running slowly.
This past week marked a much different kind of news that I am processing as a 40-year-old human.
Benjamin Satterly, the professional wrestler who performed under the name "PAC," died suddenly this past Sunday. He was 40 years old.
I will share that this news hit me hard, first and foremost as a fan of AEW with many fond memories of watching PAC. But it also landed a little differently because of the more serious side of this coin, the one where I'm trying to understand where I am in life and often trying to write my way through it.
I do not want to make this about me. This newsletter will be about PAC from this point onward. I just wanted to share a bit about where I'm coming from at the outset. Now let's celebrate PAC.
This weekly newsletter is about sports and pro wrestling. This edition is just about PAC and the tributes to him this week.
He's our bastard
This is the beautiful thing about honoring a professional wrestler. I can write a heading like that, and it's going to make total sense to anyone who watched PAC's wrestling career.
PAC was a performer who never appeared to break character. He was a badass, always a little vicious. He showed no mercy. That persona translated to an intimidating character, mostly a heel but occasionally a badass with the fans behind him.
He earned himself a fitting nickname: the Bastard. During a stretch when the fans were cheering for PAC, a chant started up in a few arenas: "He's our bastard! He's our bastard!"
Fittingly, AEW shared that video this past week:
They also put together this tribute video:
That video speaks to another thing I'll remember about Pac. I do not believe I ever saw that man smile. That is to say, he never broke character. Those moments in the video feel like deep cuts, and they feel deeply personal.
One of my favorite wrestling jokes is the idea that certain wrestlers are always in their in-ring gear. Some wrestlers come to the ring for non-wrestling segments in street clothes. Others still come in their trunks.
PAC was always in his gear. I would like to think that if anyone ever saw him at a coffee shop or at the airport, he was also in his trunks, sneering, ready for action.
PAC did, in fact, attend a press conference in just his ring gear at one point. The Young Bucks thought that was funny, too, and made it a running joke on their YouTube channel. From there, the name for an annual AEW pay-per-view show was born: Full Gear.
More tributes
From its inception, AEW hooked me as a fan because of the in-ring style of the matches. I love the crisp and fast-moving action, and I am often in awe of what these wrestlers can pull off in the ring.
PAC always stood out as one of the truly great wrestlers. It's not surprising, then, to learn that he was a leader when it comes to this exciting style.
As part of the amazing tribute show that AEW put on this past Wednesday, Will Ospreay and Ricochet closed the show. It was a fitting match, one with amazing in-ring action. That match closed with Ospreay pulling off one of PAC's signature moves, which also happens to be one of the most amazing moves you'll ever see from anyone.
It's called the Black Arrow.
Here is Ospreay hitting it to pay tribute to PAC.
One of my favorite live entertainment experiences happened at AEW Revolution in March of 2020. A match that was months in the making, it involved Orange Cassidy's first full, solo, in-ring action in AEW.
His opponent: PAC.
They were the perfect pairing for that match and the entertainment it provided for those of us in the crowd that night. We were eating out of Orange Cassidy's hand, ready to react to every month and every bit of his gimmick.
Everything he did landed that night. So much of that success was a credit to PAC as his heel opponent. He acted pissed off and annoyed at each turn, ultimately prevailing with viciousness that was just too much.
PAC was so good in that match. Even though he won in the end, his performance embodied that selflessness that often shines through from the best wrestlers. One of the main goals of that stage was to make Orange Cassidy look good. PAC made him look great.
Maybe that's the only little glimpse available to someone like me into the most important thing, into the most devastating part of this loss: the good person who just left us too soon.
I never met PAC. I didn't know him. For the most part, I'm left to take the words of people who did know him. From those people, I have heard nothing but admiration for what a good person he was.
That matches up with how I'll remember him as a performer. He was so great, one of the best in-ring performers I have ever watched. PAC was certainly on the level of a world champion in any promotion. Anytime he landed a big win or had a championship run, he deserved it.
But he also shined in so many matches and programs where he wasn't the winner. He was the one making the champion look good. His greatness bolstered the accomplishment of the person who bested him. In terms of the sacrifice, in terms of the give and take that makes the whole thing work in pro wrestling, PAC always delivered.
That earned him a well-deserved spot as a fan favorite, and it appears that it translated to a person who was beloved behind the scenes, too.
Let's keep remembering and reliving what he gave us. Let's keep those stories alive and share what PAC meant to wrestling.
RIP.
