I just finished watching the 1998 King of the Ring Hell in a Cell Match between the Undertaker and Mick Foley. Wow. Nothing says it better than “wow”. The passion and desire exhibited by Foley is just unbelievable.

Watch highlights of the match by clicking here.

Watching the match reminded me of the glory days of wrestling and how my definition is so different from that of most people. Ask the common wrestling fan and they’ll recall the days of Hogan and the Ultimate Warrior. They may throw in Andre the Giant and Yokozuna int othe mix. However, for me, it was much later on. My cherished times revolve around the likes of Stone Cold Steve Austin, Mick Foley, Ken Shamrock, and the Hardy Boyz. The contempt that a character like Stone Cold had for people who tried ot tell him what to do is something I still hold with me. The desire to finish, no matter the pain, that Foley and the Hardy’s exhibited still rings in my mind everytime I think I can’t go on. The pure chaos of Ken Shamrock harnessing his anger, flipping out, and coming out on top is an image that comes to me everytime I get pissed.

Those were my glory days. The days I could escape and come out amazed. The times spent discussing the latest vehicle Stone Cold drove into the arena (beer truck anyone?) or staring in amazement as Jeff Hardy sent his body flying through the air with no concern for the landing. Those were the days. My glory days of wrestling.

Alas, the “Attitude” era has long been dead and, in some way, so has wrestling. It’s still cool to watch every so often, but it just doesn’t have that passion and fury that it once did. Man, I miss those days.