Charlotte, North Carolina
Ric Flair is dead.
He suddenly went to the hospital the other day. His family asked for prayers and he was placed into a medically induced coma. An attempt to save him was made with surgery but it was probably as much for the world as it was for Flair. He died on a random August day, an uneventful day for an eventful man.
Flair is Flair. You likely know about him, and will no doubt find more in depth pieces about him elsewhere. He defined pro wrestling for a generation or three, as his career began in the 1970s. He was on top for my entire life. He was the definition of living the gimmick; he would go on TV and brag about spending money on wine, women, song, and dance, and then leave the arena and do just that.
I guess it’s almost a testament to his durability as many other men have died living the life he lead. There will never be another Flair.
His legacy as an entertainer is endless. His trademark “WOOO!” and strut are iconic (even though he … borrowed … them from elsewhere) and staples in the mainstream. He was the guy you hated because you wanted to be him. And then the world changed. More money. More sex. More rock and roll. We all fashioned a zeitgeist around The Nature Boy. We all became cheap copies of Slick Ric. He forever remained what we wanted to be.
If it’s true that to be The Man, you have to beat The Man, Ric Flair dies undefeated.
RIC FLAIR IS NEAD, THIS IS A TRIBUTE
