Thanks to Chris Cruise for sending me the link to the article below:

It reminded me of watching wrestling on our small TV with my grandfather.  I have been critical of watching Raw lately, but I have to say, watching Smackdown is very exciting.  If you are a true wrestling fan, as I am, you will enjoy the new Smackdown.  It is PURE wrestling.  

C.M. Punk, Jeff Hardy and Chris Jericho work very hard to bring wrestling back on TV once again.  If you are a wrestling purest, Smackdown is for you.  Wrestling with longer matches.  If you stopped watching, please take time to watch again. I promise you will be pleasantly surprised.  It is a joy to watch.  And of course, having JR commenting makes it all that much more enjoyable.  A few hours after Raw is finished, I couldn't even remember a couple of the matches.  But Smackdown, the matches were unforgettable. Some that still come to mind are:  Jeff Hardy vs. CM Punk, Rey vs. Jericho, Edge vs Morrison and I could go on and on. 

Anyway, tonight is a commercial free Raw with Donald Trump Live.  He is giving a free main event match from the Bash PPV.  Randy Orton vs. Triple H in a Last Man Standing Match.  It will be interesting to see how they run with this one.

We haven't had you fans write in for some time.  My question is, how many of you like Smackdown as much as I have?

Georgie  [email protected]  

 Grappling with memories of Gram | TOM LAVIS

BY TOM LAVIS

[email protected]

I was sitting at the Suds and Grub Cafe with a few friends when Tank Perkins came up behind me and put a headlock on me.

“How about those Penguins?” he said, giving my neck a twist.

As my air supply was being choked off, Junior Miller came to my rescue.

“Who do you think you are, Haystack Calhoun?” Junior asked.

Just before I passed out, I heard Kyle Featherbed, a 30-something smart aleck who hangs out at the cafe, ask who Calhoun was.

The question shocked Tank, who immediately released me from the stranglehold.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Tank huffed.

He turned to me and asked, “What would Gram say?”

Tank was referring to my late grandmother, who lived with my family in her final years.

Many of my childhood friends remember Gram as a loving, generous woman who always offered them homemade cinnamon rolls when they came to our house.

Gram was tough, but she had a wonderful sense of humor.

A Czechoslovakian immigrant, my grandmother enjoyed two pastimes: Bingo and “Studio Wrestling.”

Every Saturday evening at 6, Gram could be found sitting on the edge of the sofa waiting for my dad to adjust the rabbit ears on the 21-inch Zenith black-and-white TV so she could watch her favorite wrestlers. In Gram’s eyes, there was no one better than Bruno Sammartino.

“He’s vonderful, but dose utter men are vicked,” she said.

Whether it was because Sammartino’s accent closely resembled her own or because he displayed a soft-spoken, gentlemanly demeanor that won my Gram’s heart, I will never know.

When Bruno did battle with villains such as Calhoun or George “The Animal” Steele, Gram would yell at the TV. Steele had more hair on his back than most people had on their heads.

If Sammartino was Gram’s favorite, “Studio Wrestling” announcer Bill Cardille was a close second.

So every Saturday, my grandmother sat there wearing her modest flower-print dress and her ever-present apron, watching wrestling. Usually, a half dozen kids were sprawled on the floor in front of her.

“If you kids are gonna vatch, you have to be kviet,” she said.

My friends compared Gram to Ringside Rosie, an elderly lady who always sat in the front row and became known to audiences because she was louder than everyone else.

When Chilly Billy talked with Rosie, it was like he was interviewing Gram. They had a similar passion for the sport.

No one could convince Gram that pro wrestling wasn’t real.

Eventually, I would end up in a wrestling match with my two brothers or one of our friends, and Gram would break up the fracas.

It didn’t matter to Gram if you were a grandson or a neighbor kid, everyone got the same treatment.

During any outbursts while wrestling was on, Gram would deliver a couple of whacks from a wooden spoon that she kept tucked into her apron for such emergencies.

I remember the time Gram cracked me with the spoon when I jokingly called her Gorilla Monsoon.

“Dats not nice,” she said. “If you say again, I give you another vac.”

When I almost burst into tears, instead of delivering a whack, she gave me a bear hug.

What I wouldn’t give to have one more of those bear hugs.