If you’re even remotely a fan of professional wrestling, the past month has been brutal. First, Andy “The Butcher” Williams died suddenly after collapsing during a match on September 5th in Pennsylvania. A week later, AEW Collision became a night of tribute to Butcher. Amongst those who spoke was PAC, wearing a bucket hat and sunglasses despite sitting on a chair, indoors, with the lighting dimmed. To me, I strongly suspected he didn’t want to ruin his “Bastard” image by crying on television. PAC said, quietly and quite lovely, “We always knew you were an anomaly too good for this world. I just want to say I love you, man. And you always made sure that I knew you loved me too. I’ll miss you, my friend. ‘Till we meet again.”
A few days later, PAC posted this photo to social media. It’s almost haunting that this was the last post he’d make. He could not have known how soon he’d indeed see Andy Williams again.
Exactly three weeks after the death of Williams. All Out took place in Chicago—the last Saturday of September. PAC had been an anchor of AEW since he was a Day One guy with the company, appearing at the announcement presser to challenge “Hangman” Adam Page in 2019, and scored an astounding win over Kenny Omega in AEW’s first weeks on television. If there was ever a sign of how much PAC was respected by the company and its founding wrestlers, it was that he was put into that position from the word “go.” PAC would challenge for the world title several times in that first year, and when the Trios championships were introduced, he teamed with Lucha Brothers Penta and Rey Fenix to win those as Death Triangle. He won the International Championship back when it was known as the All-Atlantic Championship. PAC was always in the mix, spending his last three years as a member of the Blackpool Combat Club and its successor clique, Death Riders.
At All Out, the show opened with Andrade El Idolo defending his AEW National Championship against PAC, and my God, they put on a hell of a match. Two guys just a couple of years apart in age, in prime physical condition, performing at the top of their game. Andrade would get a narrow win over PAC, and after the match, he was shown sitting in the corner of the ring, Marina Shafir consoling him, with a look of frustration on his face. It was pitch perfect in execution. Later that night, during the main event, PAC was back out there assisting Jon Moxley in his attempt to regain the AEW World title. It was the last time we’d ever see PAC live on television. What we didn’t know at that moment was that afterward, in the wee hours of the morning, Moxley and the Death Riders would film a vignette outside the arena, with Mox delivering what almost sounded like a eulogy to the single handheld camera. The camera pulls away at the end, scanning the faces of the Death Riders, lingering for a few beats on PAC’s face. The fact that the vignette was filmed as it was and that Mox’s words were so spot-on has haunted me since it aired on the tribute episode of AEW Dynamite a few days later.
The reason I’m writing this over a week after that tribute episode, when it isn’t “timely” any longer, is what WWE posted two days ago. The Fed has a long, long history of refusing to name its competition in any way, or to acknowledge it exists, most of the time. There was a brief period in the mid-2010s when you’d hear about other orgs like Ring of Honor or New Japan, but that ended after a celebrated Madison Square Garden sellout show by those two, which Vince McMahon, then still running WWE, took as a direct affront. It was therefore shocking to see this go up on their official YouTube channel.
Reportedly organized by Kevin (Steen) Owens, it’s nearly 40 minutes of WWE wrestlers, including those who wrestled with PAC in AEW before joining WWE, sharing their memories and stories about him. Owens, Cody Rhodes, Sami Zayn, Penta and Fenix, Big Cass, Bayley, Finn Balor, and Becky Lynch all spoke about their friend Ben and how much he meant to them. Zayn and Fenix were particularly distraught, with Fenix actually starting to remove his mask and walk off camera to wipe away all of his tears. Something I had been thinking about during the PAC tribute show on Dynamite came rushing back to the forefront of my mind: this was the first wrestling death since Owen Hart in which the impact was so widespread and earth-shattering among his peers. I heard Zayn speaking but was seeing Jeff Jarrett on that awful Monday Night RAW the day after Owen’s death at Over the Edge ’99. I watched Kevin Owens but was thinking about Mick Foley’s words. When Darby Allin spoke about PAC, his grief resembled Mark Henry’s about Owen. Those memories, those stories, the love that all of these athletes shared for PAC/Neville/Ben reflected the love and esteem Owen Hart was held in by his peers.
I would argue that you don’t get PAC without Owen Hart, either, and here’s why. An early high-flyer in American pro wrestling, Owen was among the first to use a moonsault in the World Wrestling Federation, along with an enzuigiri and a missile dropkick. His diving headbutt directly inspired Chris Benoit and Bryan Danielson to use the same move, and Benoit actually feuded with Owen during Benoit’s early days as a wrestler. Owen would become as well-rounded as his brother Bret, but was more accomplished aerially due to his time in Japan. That blend of Japanese high flying (early Owen used the moonsault as a finisher) and mat skill (later iterations of Owen’s in-ring career had Owen using brother Bret’s Sharpshooter as his finishing move) has a direct through-line to Benoit, who inspired Bryan Danielson to become a pro wrestler, and Danielson’s early success paved the way for PAC to join the industry and further push its boundaries.
PAC definitely embodied one of Owen Hart’s gifts, in that they both had the remarkable ability to elevate any match they were in. PAC was short, but powerful. No part of his game was lacking—like those mentioned before him, he could brawl, mat wrestle, hit moves with speed, portray the snarling heel, be the determined face—but then he added to the skill set that Hart, Danielson, and Benoit all brought to the table. PAC was The Man That Gravity Forgot, with the athleticism and skill to perform unimaginable aerial maneuvers. If a booker or promoter needed something, you could never, ever go wrong with PAC. At the climax of a match, the Black (Red in WWE) Arrow was a perfectly sufficient finishing move on its own because it was both athletically outrageous and physically impactful, wowing fans with its height and agility.
And yet, as he bulked up during his AEW tenure, the Black Arrow often served as a prelude to the Brutalizer, a submission move that was the opposite of the rapid movement and high impact of the Black Arrow. The Brutalizer was simple in execution, but violent in its dealing of pain. Using his own body as a sort of crossbeam, PAC would cinch both arms straight behind his opponent, creating substantial torque on the shoulders, then apply a crossface while using his leg and arm positioning to keep the arms cinched. While we know that professional wrestling is a mix of applied physicality and implied violence, the Brutalizer was effective because it looked extremely painful and, unlike a move like a figure-four leglock, did create enough real discomfort-to-pain that nobody would want to stay in it long. Its presence in the PAC repertoire meant he would never be in a match stipulation where he’d be at a disadvantage. Ladder match? Dude can move quickly, is strong, and knows how to fly. Submission match? He’s got a painful finisher with the Brutalizer. Cage match? My man PAC knows how to use violence effectively.
None of that would matter much if he wasn’t as great a man outside of the ring. What we saw with AEW and WWE’s performers in each of their tributes was the devastating impact of losing not just a colleague or co-worker, but a dear friend that they loved deeply, who touched their lives and set an example for how a human being should treat their fellow humans. Here, too, PAC walked in the footsteps of Owen Hart, but like Owen, his impact was so great that he never stood in his, or anyone else’s, shadow. Rest easy, PAC. We miss you, and we loved you, and we’re so very sorry you’re gone.
