Infamously, World Championship Wrestling scripted Cactus Jack to lose his memory in 1993, and the “lost in Cleveland skits” became a part of some of the absolute worst drek in the history of the business. The segments became a part of wrestling lore for all the wrong reasons, and the real-life Mick Foley left the following year when it was clear that his career plateaued in the Turner organization.
The horrendous bits were a reminder of why “the mistake by the lake” is known for its mediocrity. Considering that Ohio is generally a sewer, it takes a lot to get me to venture across state lines into the dumpster fire that is the Buckeye state. Yes, as a native of western Pennsylvania I might be considered bias, but I can honestly say that from what I’ve seen of Ohio, the state really is a cesspool.
One of the rare occasions that I dared to leave the sanctity of the Pittsburgh region to travel to Ohio was last year when the legendary Neil Young played at the Blossom Music Center, a scenic outdoor amphitheater in Cuyahoga Falls. It was the closest that the aging rocker was going to tour near Pittsburgh so independent grappler, Dean Radford and I made the trip to see the iconic 80-year-old musician in person since you never know when he might retire from live tours. I understand that I’m giving Ohio a lot of grief, but as someone that has “It’s better to burn out than to fade away” tattooed on my arm, while I’m not a religious person, the chance to see him jam live was a religious experience. Long distances aren’t my strong suite, but as Dean helped me navigate the hilly terrain of the state park until we reached the location of the concert, it was a pilgrimage to see true greatness. Thankfully, our seats in the ADA section shielded us from the riff-raff of the crowd. There were three different occasions that we saw intoxicated patrons escorted from the scene, two of which collapsed in their seats before they were ushered away to an ambulance located in the distance to receive medical attention.
The tunes of “Southern Man,” “Cinnamon Girl,” and the finale of “Hey Hey, My My” are etched in my mind. After Neil and The Chrome Hearts band finished jamming, we made our way to the exit along with the mass of humanity. I was drenched in sweat, dehydrated, but more than satisfied that I checked off a legitimate bucket list item.
However, the trip I took to Cleveland in 2024 almost had a much different conclusion.
Ironically, when the great Mike Sorg, the top video producer of independent wrestling content in the Pittsburgh area, had an extra pair of tickets for the 2023 edition of Summer Slam, he was gracious enough to allow me and camera man, Rob Brown the chance to attend the show in Detroit, Michigan at Ford Field. At the time, I had never been to a Summer Slam event before, nor had a been to the Motor City so I was looking forward to attending the show. The four-hour trip was relatively smooth and it was really neat to see the city. The Cody Rhodes/Brock Lesnar bout, as well as Iyo Sky cashing in the Money In The Bank contract to win the title were highlights.
So, when Summer Slam was announced for Cleveland the following year, it was almost a no-brainer to be there since it was only a little over half the distance of the trip to Detroit. This time, Rob was set to visit his sister and they had a pair of tickets so on just a week’s notice, the great Pat MacLaughlin asked if I’d be willing to travel to Cleveland Browns Stadium so that he would get a chance to see the historic pay-per-view brand in person. Knowing how much fun Detroit was, and how much closer Cleveland was by comparison, I agreed.
As has become common with these signature WWE events, including for this weekend’s Summer Slam in Minneapolis, a slew of other wrestling events were planned around it. Game Changer Wrestling was running an event at a Masonic Temple the day before, which I wrote an article about at the time, and Wrestle Con also had a two-day convention that weekend just minutes away from the stadium.
Saturday morning when we went to Wrestle Con, meeting a series of legends that I hadn’t had the chance to meet before at the time was a thrill. Meeting Arn Anderson and being surprised with his red NWA TV title was surreal. I rarely smile, but the photo-op was proof that I was over the moon to meet The Enforcer. Ron Simmons, Lex Luger, Scott Steiner, and Tommy Rich were all very polite. After that we went to a restaurant for lunch and attempted to make our way to the stadium. Pat parked his car at a more central lot so it would be easier for us to get back on the road after the pay-per-view since he had to be back home for a family event the next day. In what should’ve been considered an omen, the Uber driver that Pat booked to get us from that lot to the stadium seemed to be completely clueless about how to actually get there. Despite the assistance of on-screen GPS, this local yokel found himself driving in circles rather aimlessly. To avoid letting the meter run, Pat asked for the driver to drop us off near a bridge, where we could see the football venue in the distance. As a mass of humanity ventured along the walkways of the bridge, my trek in Cleveland to get to where the Browns played football as the mid-day sun made for a rather humid hike that was not nearly as comfortable as the scenic stroll through Cuyahoga Falls to watch Neil Young play classic hits.
I wrote a detailed review of the live experience of the Summer Slam event so there’s no need to rehash too many details, but the reaction to Roman Reigns’ return is still one of the most tremendous crowd responses I’ve ever heard at a live event.
Post-show, trying to get out of the stadium, and more specifically through the parking lot was nearly impossible. It looked like a human Royal Rumble with people shoulder-to-shoulder as everyone tried to go in different directions. Unfortunately, there was nobody to direct fans on where to go to exit, and it took Pat walking back and fourth a few times to actually find a spot where we could get out of the parking lot. The streets around the stadium weren’t much better, as the cops that looked as though they were supposed to be directing traffic seemed to be on a coffee break, as only one officer was there to attempt to assist motorists. The streets around the stadium were blocked off, including the previously mentioned bridge. To attempt to try to keep my steps to a minimum, Pat told me that he would go ahead back to the lot to get his car where he parked it that morning and would swing back to get me at the next street up. In truth, I was very nervous, as things had been so chaotic after leaving the stadium just to get to that point, but I felt bad that he had to make another accommodation for me. So, I made my way across the bridge with the steady stream of other fans that continued to trickle out of the parking lot.
When I got across the bridge, I reached a corner where the streets were open and decided that was as close as Pat was going to get to the stadium so I figured I’d wait there for him. It was somewhat comical that on this particular street, there was a traffic cop that looked like he started his career when the Model-T was introduced, and the miserable elderly officer found any reason possible to bark at almost every driver that made their way through the intersection. I got a text from Pat asking me where I was, and I sent him a picture of the street sign on the corner. He asked if I could send him the location on my phone, but despite my best efforts, for some reason, the location was blocked. I told him about this and then noticed that my phone was at 2% because I had used it for photo-ops at Wrestle Con, as well as for some pictures of the impressive set at the Summer Slam. I quickly told Pat that I was near a Hilton a few blocks down before my phone battery died faster than WCW in 2000.
It was almost 12:30 AM, I was standing on a street corner in Cleveland, and I had no idea if my pal knew where I was. I actually wasn’t worried about any shady individuals, as there were enough people around, not to mention the crotchety cop yelling at drivers. Plus. I knew I could hit Sweet Shin Music if I had to. My much bigger concern was that I was potentially stranded in Cleveland, immediately visualizing the cringe worthy skits where the hardcore legend wandered those same streets with a case of amnesia. However, The thought of being stuck in Cleveland was worse than being stuck on a bed of nails in IWA Japan.
As much as meeting Arn Anderson was a bucket list item, I began to wonder if holding the prestigious NWA Television Title for the photo-op was worth the trade off of the rest of that list if I never escaped Cleveland. I legitimately began to consider what I was going to do if Pat couldn’t find the intersection, deciding that worst case scenario, I could venture to the previously mentioned Hilton, even if it took longer than one of Flair’s classic one-hour draws for the world championship, to ask to charge my phone. Just when the combination of circumstances was putting the boots to me, I saw Pat swinging around the corner, flashing a thumbs up through the windshield. He made the save, clobbering all the negative hypothetical scenarios with navigational baby face fire. After I jumped into the passenger seat as fast a possible and thanked the wrestling gods that I would make it out of Ohio. As it turned out, there were actually two Hilton locations in Cleveland, and Pat had gone to the wrong one before he rescued me from the dimly-lit street corner. Despite the close call, I made to back from Cleveland to be able to see Neil Young jam in Cuyahoga Falls. Still, I’m thankful that I’ll be watching this weekend’s Summer Slam event from the couch.
Until next week
-Jim LaMotta
Email [email protected] | You can follow me on Instagram, Facebook, & Threads @jimlamotta89
