EDITOR’S NOTE: Jeremiah Plunkett writes a weekly column SlamWrestling.net, where he offers up stories of his travels in “Journeyman Journals with Jeremiah.”
Journal Entry – 11/11/2024
When I took on the challenge of writing weekly entries for Journeyman Journals, my biggest worry was what to say during the rare weeks without matches. Wrestling’s all I’ve known for years, so what happens when the boots stay packed and the ring is someone else’s to own?
Well, this week, the asphalt still got some miles. My wife and I packed up the car and headed down to Memphis to visit family. Now, for a wrestling fan who grew up in Tennessee, Memphis—Mempho, as Handsome Jimmy called it—holds a special place in my heart. I can still remember those Saturday mornings: appointment television, Channel 5 studios, and clips from the Mid-South Coliseum, “The Entertainment Capital of the Mid-South.” Those were the days.
My wife, however—a true Memphian—sees it differently. For her, the opening notes of Deodato’s “Also Sprach Zarathustra” were the dreaded signal that cartoons were done, the TV was off, and the vacuum was coming out. Memphis wrestling meant her Saturday morning was about to turn into a full-scale clean-up operation. Safe to say, it touched our lives in very different ways.
Now, she’s never been much of a wrestling fan, and that’s probably why I got the look when I once suggested Tracy Smothers officiate our wedding. Yes, I thought the “Wild-Eyed Southern Boy” himself should tie the knot for us, and yes, that idea was shot down immediately. Still, she did come to know and love Tracy. They met at the Nashville premiere of Journeyman, Francisco Ciatso’s film, back when I’d just started introducing her to my wrestling circle. Tracy made her feel right at home, in the way that only he could.
It’s been a little over four years since we lost him, and he’s been on my mind a lot lately. Tracy was a light in our industry, and he left his mark on everyone who knew him. I’m not here to give a eulogy; that’s been done, and done well. But I do want to talk about one of his guiding principles, something he passed on to those of us lucky enough to know him.
“Leave it better than you found it.”
I never heard Tracy say those words outright, but he didn’t have to. His actions said it all. Tracy believed in building up the next generation, and he made it his mission to reward effort wherever he saw it. He’d go out of his way to put in a word for a young wrestler who was green but had heart. “He’s a good kid, ya know what I mean?” You could count on Tracy to say that when he saw something worth fighting for.
In a business known for big egos and “getting your sh*t in,” Tracy was all about the opposite. His focus was on the fans, putting on a good match, teaching his opponent, and making sure everyone went home in one piece. He wasn’t worried about getting his own spots in the match. Heck, as he’d joke, “The first three matches done done all my moves!”
I first met Tracy through my trainers, “Mean” Mike Woods (or “Mikey Wooooooods,” as Tracy would say with a grin) and Buzz Dupp, and through my early tag partner and mentor, Quinton Quarisma. Tracy called me “Little Quinton” for a good six months. No matter where or when I saw him down the road, he’d remember that connection, always asking about Mike, Buzz, and Quinton, right up until the last time I saw him.
Through the years, I had some special moments with him. There was a seminar series in Nashville, at the “legendary” Stadium Inn. I showed up early, cash in hand, ready to learn. Tracy offered to let me attend for free if I’d be his crash dummy, and it was the best offer I could’ve gotten. Not only did it save my broke college self some cash, but it also gave me the chance to work one-on-one with a master. From that first lock-up, you could feel the difference. Tracy had wrestled everyone from “Bullet” Bob Armstrong to bears, and he carried that experience with him. Every move had a purpose, and he loved every second of it.
Years later, in 2014, we worked together at Southern All-Star Wrestling when he coached me for a match against Satoshi Kojima. Tracy took it seriously, treating those training vignettes like real training sessions. At one point, he belly-to-bellied me without warning (the man did wrestle bears, after all). And on the night of the event, he was there with me every step of the way, running warm-ups and keeping me calm. There’s no one I’d have rather had in my corner.
It’s an unfortunate reality that there’s a generation of wrestlers who’ll never get the joy of Tracy walking into a locker room, arms wide, asking, “Hey man, what’s your deal?” with a grin and a bear hug. But my hope is that those of us he helped will carry his legacy forward. Tracy taught us that wrestling isn’t just about “me” but needs a little “we” now and then.
To the wrestling community, let’s raise a Jack and Coke to the Wild-Eyed Southern Boy. Here’s to Tracy, and here’s to keeping his spirit alive by making this business better than we found it.
RELATED LINKS
- Oct. 28, 2020: George Tahinos’ Tracy Smothers & F.B.I. in ECW photo gallery
- Oct. 28, 2020: Tracy Smothers succumbs to cancer
- Book review: Smothers more than a ‘Wild Eyed Southern Boy’ in his autobiography
- NWA LinkTree
JEREMIAH PLUNKETT LINKS
- Jeremiah Plunkett story and column archive
- Jeremiah Plunkett socials via LinkTree
