I’m still shocked as I write this, and after I saw the news online there remains a level of disbelief that Sabu, who competed in his retirement match during Wrestlemania weekend less than a month ago, passed away last week as a result of a heart attack at the age of 60. This might sound trivial, but in some respects, this reminds me of the disbelief that I felt when Terry Funk passed in 2023, and when Bruno Sammartino died in 2018. We’re all human, but much like Bruno and Funk, Sabu was in a truly larger-than-life category. Bruno was too mythical to be mortal, Terry’s heart was going to fuel him forever, and Sabu was indestructible. It’s a harsh reminder of how fragile life can be, even for icons of the industry. Again, similar to Bruno and Funk, it’s difficult to imagine a pro wrestling business without Sabu.
It goes without saying that the real-life Terry Brunk, the nephew of the original Sheik, Ed Farhat, not only influenced generations of performers, but also changed the game of the professional wrestling. I could recount the numerous details of his rise in popularity throughout the 90s as a cult favorite of the die hard fans that would trade VHS tapes to see the obscure matches from Japan, but his impact on the sport was so much bigger than just a series of matches or a run in a particular organization.
In many ways, in terms of innovation and changing the perception of what was possible in sports entertainment, Sabu did in the 90s what the Dynamite Kid did for the industry in the 80s.
Sure, it was in a completely different manner, but the fact remains that there are a few key performers that have such a massive influence on the direction of the sport that there’s a definitive line between the business before their prime and the business afterwards. I think it’s fair to say from the ripple effect that his career had, there was undoubtedly a difference in pro wrestling before and after the prime years of Sabu’s career.
Extreme Championship Wrestling is often rightfully described as the Napster of sports entertainment for the way that it was never designed to last, but changed everything in the process, very similar to how the file sharing service altered the direction of the music industry, setting a path for how songs are distributed today. There’s no question that ECW revolutionized the sport because of the collective effort of countless names. Tod Gordon invested in the original concept, putting the money up to not only get the group on more television networks to increase its reach, but also fronted the cash to get the organization on pay-per-view at a time when it was the biggest revenue stream possible in the industry. Paul Heyman was eccentric enough to be willing to push the envelope when other companies wouldn’t dare to test the limits. Tommy Dreamer put his body and his own personal cash on the line to try to keep the company afloat. That’s not to mention how many guys destroyed their bodies in an effort to solidify themselves as stars.
That being said, I don’t think it’s unfair to say that without Sabu, ECW probably wouldn’t have been able to get off the ground to the level that it did. Sabu was a unique commodity and allowed the company to bring something to the table that the other major leagues weren’t going to do at the time. Granted, ECW was probably the only place in the United States in the late-90s that Sabu was going to flourish so it was a win-win scenario, but the fact remains that Sabu embodied much of the brand that become so popular during that era.
That’s the other side of the coin, it’s an unfortunate tradeoff that Sabu made to snub the status quo, he made unwise business decisions in an effort to stay true to his vision. On some level that’s admirable, never to sacrifice the art form for the cash, but he also developed a reputation for being difficult to work with, which isn’t something worthy of praise. It sounds simplistic, but not every match for every night in every promotion could be a highlight reel of destruction for the Sabu segment just because that’s how he would prefer his matches to be booked. Specifically in the major leagues, there’s an entire card to present to a national audience, that can’t be disregarded just so Sabu was happy with his match that night.
In some respects, that added to the legitimate aura that the real life Terry Brunk already had. You knew the business was a work, but much like his uncle, Sabu still had a mystic around him. It added to his lure, but hurt him from a business perspective. Was Sabu going to show up? Was he going to be in the mood to actually work a match? It was a throwback aspect to his persona that isn’t seen in pro wrestling today.
That’s ultimately why Sabu didn’t get the initial recognition or the compensation to have some type of financial security during the latter stages of his life. For as much as he went out of his way to protect his persona, you’d like it would be obvious to Sabu, someone that learned from The Sheik, that drawing money is the entire point of the business. At times, it seems like Sabu went out of his way not to be in a position to make the most money possible just to stay within his comfort zone as a performer.
There’s an interview clip on Youtube where Brunk talks about the money he made for his appearance in a WWE video game, explaining that the $400,000 for made that year for his WWE contract was the most that he made for a year in the business. As we know, Sabu only lasted that year because he didn’t like the way that he was used in the WWE or that management wanted him to cut promos. The argument could be made that his character shouldn’t do promos anyway, but the bottom line is, the WWE playbook at the time was well-known so it came with the territory of a contract. There was a mutual parting of the ways when he wanted to quit the company and management planned to release him. However, if Sabu could’ve simply worked within the system for a few more years, he might’ve had enough of a financial safety net that he wouldn’t have had to work a barbed wire match at 60 just to get one last big payoff.
Sabu never compromised his vision, even when he probably should’ve, which says a lot about his dedication to the industry.
It’s almost too obvious to mention the unbelievable amount of punishment that Brunk was willing to put himself through, again to say true to his ideology of the squared circle. While his business decisions over the years were questionable, his passion for the sport certainly wasn’t. That might be the lasting legacy of Sabu, he was a guy that changed the perception of what sports entertainment could be in the United States, specifically because he never took a night off. He reinforced his trailblazing style because he never mailed in a performance, you were going to get his innovative maneuvers and and wild character every time you saw him in the ring. Ultimately, that’s what cemented his legacy as one of the performers that changed the presentation of the sport.
My sincere condolences to Sabu’s friends and family at this difficult time.
What do you think? Share your thoughts, opinions, feedback, and anything else that was raised on Twitter @PWMania and Facebook.com/PWMania.
Until next week
-Jim LaMotta
E mail [email protected] | You can follow me on Instagram, Facebook, & Threads @jimlamotta89
