Edge might pass to Smack Down.
WWE is nothing compared to the days when Bret Hart, Steve Austin, HBK and others were competing.
RIP Candido
Horowitz among those mourning Candido
By Keith Elliot Greenberg
Whenever I looked at Chris Candido’s face, I thought of his grandfather, Chuck Richards, a WWE journeyman I remember from the early ‘70s, with bulging eyes – hence, his nickname “Popeye” – and the type of faded tattoos you’d find at the Seafarer’s Hall.
Once, I remember vividly, Richards – perhaps hoping to alter the direction of his career – came to the ring in a red mask, dubbing himself the Red Demon. Future WWE Hall of Famer Gorilla Monsoon, still an active wrestler at the time, was sitting at the announcers’ table, providing color commentary.
“I’ve seen those tattoos before,” Monsoon said. “And the only hint I’m going to give you is ‘C.R.’”
“C.R.,” I told myself, taxing my cerebral cortex. “Chuck Richards. Wow, I even know that.”
I felt as excited as Joseph Smith, deciphering the golden tablets that became the foundation of the Mormon faith.
I told Chris Candido this story the first time I met him. He was quite a bit younger than I was, and didn’t really remember his grandfather’s days in WWE. Then, I told Candido the same story a few years later. He may have been indulging me, but he acted as amused as if he’d never heard the tale before.
I imagined that I’d get to tell Candido the story a third time. I’d seen him backstage at a WWE show as recently as a year ago, and occasionally ran into him on my time off, attending small independent cards in the New York metropolitan area. But late last week, I received an e-mail from a friend informing me that this would never occur.
Chris Candido – passionate fan, inventive wrestler, and former co-holder of the World Tag Team Championship in WWE – was dead at 33 years old.
This should have been a weekend when fans devoted their total concentration to Backlash, broadcast on pay-per-view on Sunday night. But I guarantee you that a sizable portion of the audience – as well as Candido’s brothers in the dressing room – were also thinking about Chris.
Candido competed as Skip upon entering WWE with his alluring manager Sunny in 1995. The pair, billed as the Bodydonnas, later added a third member, Zip – a revolutionary athlete also known as Dr. Tom Prichard. Their greatest achievement in WWE: capturing the World Tag Team Championship from the Godwinns at the Free For All prior toWrestleMania XII.
As a single’s wrestler, Skip battled guys like Marty Jannetty, Marc Mero and Savio Vega. But his most memorable rival in WWE was another man educated on the fine points of technical wrestling, Barry Horowitz.
Like Chuck Richards, Barry – who emblazoned a Star of David on his trunks, and literally patted himself on the back before matches – didn’t win often. Then came SummerSlam ’95. Skip was favored going into the contest. But, in the end, Horowitz scored a stunning upset.
Barry later said that the victory all but made his career.
“Everyone was completely surprised,” he told me this weekend. “The win was my first big break in WWE. We both got in the ring and wrestled hard, and something just gelled. Chris worked his tail off. I think we both looked great that night.”
While the two often competed in WWE events across the country, Horowitz remembers Candido being extremely gracious backstage: “Chris was a class act. He had no complaints whatsoever. He was a pleasure to wrestle, a constant professional.”
At some point, Horowitz expected to step between the ropes with Candido again, either in the independent circuit or even back in WWE.
“We never got the chance,” he said sadly. “I really wouldn’t have cared if the fans cheered him and booed me. It would have just been nice to get in the ring again with a guy who loved professional wrestling so much.
“The wrestling world has lost a great talent, and an even better technician. The rest of the world is missing an all-around great guy.”
)
