Summer 1988

Columbus, Ohio

With a concerted grunt, Glen lifted and threw down El Jito onto the mat with his signature scoop slam, but the crowd didn’t cheer like they used to.

Sure, there was a light buzz, but it wasn’t the same as before. This was all too familiar to Glen now… the sound of disappointment. Ever since he returned from injury, he just couldn’t seem to drive the fanatic adulation that he used to.

Once the pride of Memphis professional wrestling, Golden Glen Miller took a step back and looked outward to the fans. He saw their blank faces and postures of disappointment.

Have I changed or have the fans? echoed in Glen’s mind.

Glen knew deep down that he wasn’t the same wrestler as he used to be, but that didn’t mean the fans should stop appreciating everything he gave them year after year in the 70s and early 80s.

“You okay, Glen!?”

GGM snapped back to attention and looked over at the blank-faced referee. He nodded and picked El Jito back up off the mat and whipped him to the ropes.

When El Jito returned, the small luchador surprised Glen by leaping into the air and twisting his body, catching his legs around Glen’s neck and head. Glen went tumbling from the huracurrana, and the crowd quickly burst into cheering.

What!? Glen thought.

He attempted to get up but was suddenly caught with a snap kick to the back of his head, which forced him to lay backward on the mat in pain. A moment later, El Jito was flying through the air and delivered a picture-perfect moonsault across Glen’s body.

1… 2… … 3!!!

The crowd unleashed a torrent of cheers from the masked Mexican wrestler, and he sprinted to the corner and climbed the turnbuckles. With a spirited flair, he lifted his arms up to the fans, sending them into an audible delight.

Groggily, Glen came to and realized he had not only lost the match, but he had completely lost the fans.

While the announcer congratulated El Jito, Glen got back to his feet with a disgruntled grimace, and the crowd watched as the former fan favorite lumbered across the ring.

When Glen finally reached the corner where El Jito stood, he grabbed hold of the luchador’s wrestling shorts and whipped him through the air backward onto the mat.

BOO!!!

Glen rained down stomps onto El Jito’s head to the point that it finally stretched and ripped the red and yellow mask. Glen bent down and lifted the smaller, dazed wrestler back to his feet, and presented him outward to the fans.

After a short pause while watching the fans snarl and jeer him, he grabbed hold of El Jito’s mask and tore it off. The crowd audibly gasped in surprise at the sight of the handsome Mexican’s face, which no one had ever seen before.

“Microphone!” Glen yelled down to a ringside work, who immediately obliged and tossed one in.

Glen dropped El Jito back to the mat and brought the microphone up to his mouth.

“UNGRATEFUL!”

The crowd booed in response.

“That’s all you are! Ungrateful!”

The backstage audio technician was forced to increase the PA volume so that Glen could be heard over the booing.

“I gave you FIFTEEN YEARS OF PERFECTION! And THIS is how you repay me?!”

Glen paced around the ring while collecting his thoughts further.

“I’ve had ENOUGH! The Golden Glen Miller you knew is GONE!”

The former fan favorite dropped the microphone and left the ring. As he walked up the ramp to the backstage curtain, he knew there was no going back after this.