Tuesday, March 18, 2008


I have a confession.  I used to have a problem. During my teenage years, for about 18 months, I watched professional wrestling. Religiously.  Each week, I watched the three hours of "Monday Night Nitro" and the two hours of "Thursday Night Thunder."  In a strange coincidence, I was also often available to watch the hour-long Saturday night special as well.
I remember being in southern California on a family vacation during this time. All my dad's family was there, and a beach volleyball game started up one night.  The sun was setting on the still-warm sand, and between the family and the beach, it was quite the idyllic setting.  I, however, was nowhere to be found on the beach.  I was inside, watching "Nitro."  That night, Lex Luger, aka the Total Package, finally defeated Hulk Hogan for the championship belt.  At long last!  I came running out onto the beach, screaming the good news to my family.  My dad looked as if he was going to just start wading out into the water, never to be heard from again. I came to my senses and quit watching, cold turkey, shortly thereafter.

So I haven't given much thought to wrestling lately. . .until yesterday.  Back in Salt Lake on spring break, I obviously had to hit up my all-time favorite restaurant, Hires Big H.  The Big H, their signature burger, is a marvel; the Double H is the burger that makes the Whopper cry. The Double Country H (with bacon) is simply culinary perfection -- that's what I usually order. So imagine my surprise when the waitress told me that, off the menu, one could order the Triple H.

What does this all have to do with wrestling?  Take a look at this walking steroid here: that's Hunter Hearst Helmsley, aka Triple H.  Also wrestling under the names Jean-Paul Lévesque, Terra Ryzing, and the Connecticut Blueblood, Triple H developed his famous but incomparably crappy finishing move, "the Pedigree."

As I sat in my blue vinyl chair at Hires, my mind flashed over the countless foes who suffered ignominious defeat at the hands of Triple H.  I myself had never squared off against such a massive burger in my storied burger-eating career. Would I be man enough to handle it?

Of course I was.  I pounded the burger and then chased it with Hires' signature fries and raspberry shake.  Take that, Triple H.


JW said...


That picture of you in your speedo is awesome. I forgot how huge you got when we hit up the snowbird canyon racquet club. You were getting large and in charge. It's too bad the weight lifting had such terrible side effects...

Jennifer said...

Love your blog matt, a joy to read.

Chad said...

Are you telling me you introduced us to a weak sauce Custard place and saved the triple H for your own selfish indulgence? That's it I get the wetsuit come June. Oh, and I expect to see a review of every single playa on this years age of love like you did for Boston.

corbin said...

I too had a brief stint with the WWF. But I was very, very young. By the time I was probably 8 I was so over wrestling. But that put me right in the golden era of the WWF, with such captivating personalities as Junkyard Dog, The Ultimate Warrior, and Brett, the Hit Man, Hart. Anyway, glad to see you're getting your growth hormones the all-american way, through excessively meaty burgers, and not IV injections like Triple H.