Today, June 6, is Shane Mercer’s birthday. I know this because Facebook told me. I also know because when he made his entrance at OVW tonight, the fans broke out a “Happy birthday!” chant. And they say the Internet is all bad.
That moment in the ring reminded me of another birthday story.
November 2023
My daughter’s sweet sixteen is approaching, and preparations have been – I kid you not – in the works for months. We made a special trip to Sad Sam’s in Tennessee for fireworks. We went thrifting for fancy dishes and picked out black and white table settings for a “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” motif.
Someone posed the question: “Do we need a table cloth?”
I answer. “I have an all black one. It’s the one I use for my book table.”
“Great!”
“But… it needs to be washed.”
“Why?”
“It might have something on it.”
“Like what? Food?”
“No, not food.”
“What is it?”
June 2021
If you see me at a show selling books, you know my set up. There’s a black cloth covering the full table and a white runner with the Eat Sleep Wrestle logo on the front. At wrestling shows, I often confine my stuff to half the table, leaving one end open for any wrestlers who arrive late and need a place to set out gimmicks.
I’m in West Virginia in what feels like the middle of nowhere. It’s pitch black outside, and the woods across the street have that perfect “home of the cryptids” vibe. The worn and torn parking lot is beyond max capacity at this run down roller rink, and every seat is full. Literally hundreds of rabid, blood-crazed deathmatch fans have come from all across the country for the Masters of Pain Tournament. One guy in England didn’t make it because of Covid-19 travel restrictions but bought a ticket anyway, just in case the restrictions were lifted last minute.
Deathmatch fans are committed. They also buy books. LOTS of books. But I digress.
Intermission comes, and I see Shane Mercer walk out of the locker room with a stack of 8″ x 10″ photos. He’s looking pretty rough, and he’s not yet done for the night. Already. he’s survived an outdoor deathmatch involving a broken down old car and a true deathmatch icon, Shlak. He’s cut all over. Bloody all over. So are the Sharpies and photos in his hands.
“You mind if I put these here?” he says, gesturing to the all black, open end of my table.
“Go for it,” I say.
November 2023
It’s been two and a half years since that night in West Virginia. Looking back on it now – from June 2024 – I am fairly certain I’d already washed the table cloth at least once – by itself, on hot, when everyone else was out of the house. I mean, I’ve used it many times since then.
But, I figured another solo wash on hot wouldn’t hurt.
“What’s on the tablecloth?” I’m asked again.
“It might have some of Shane Mercer’s blood,” I finally admit.
I washed the tablecloth, and believe it or not, it was used at the “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” sweet sixteen party. None of the girls except Lydia knew. She’s a Mercer fan now, having seen what he can do the last several months at OVW.
I haven’t yet told Shane that story, so I figured I’d just tell it all right here, in honor of his birthday.
Happy birthday to one of the genuinely good guys – pound for pound, maybe the strongest, most athletic guy I’ve had the privilege of seeing wrestle live.
Story photo by the great Lloyd Thomas!