History Has Been Maimed

N  ote: To read the Masked Man’s story on the Ultimate Warrior’s death Tuesday night, click here.

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The Undertaker lost to Brock Lesnar in the semi-main event of WrestleMania 30.
I’m just going to leave that there, because a sentence like that deserves to be left alone. If that doesn’t mean anything to you, consider the scene: There were 75,167 people in the Mercedes-Benz Superdome on Sunday, and when they saw Taker lose, their silence was deafening. Mouths hung open in shock, hands were thrown into the air in disbelief, heads swiveled to confirm the truth on other faces. Children cried. Adults cried. I think I saw an usher misting up. It was that kind of moment.
The Undertaker — preternatural pugilist and protector of the old guard of professional wrestling — had come to define WrestleMania over the past two decades. It wasn’t merely his presence at the event, but his wins. The streak, his run of victories on wrestling’s biggest stage, had reached 21. He had never lost at WrestleMania.
The first win came against a declining Jimmy “Superfly” Snuka at WrestleMania 7. At 8, he battled his erstwhile running buddy Jake “The Snake” Roberts, a feud that made Taker a fan favorite (and sent Roberts packing from the WWF for four years). At 9, he was set against Giant Gonzales, the failed basketball center clad in furry, muscle-airbrushed spandex; in this match Taker didn’t win outright, but instead was awarded the victory via disqualification after Gonzales used a chloroform-soaked rag on him. (Taker got his revenge by pinning Gonzales at SummerSlam that year.) He no-showed WrestleMania 10 when he was out with an injury. (Fans will certainly recall this period, when he was “replaced” by an evil replacement Undertaker, known lovingly as “The Underfaker.”) At 11, he felled King Kong Bundy, who was serving under Ted DiBiase’s Million Dollar Corporation. At 12, he showed the door to Diesel (a.k.a. Kevin Nash), who would soon leave the WWF for WCW; the match was far from a thing of beauty, but it was Taker’s first WrestleMania match of significant length. WrestleMania 13 saw Taker win the world title from Sid; Sid had recently acquired it from Bret Hart. The Undertaker’s half brother Kane debuted thereafter, leading to the two men doing battle at WrestleMania 14, where Taker hit Kane with three Tombstone Piledrivers en route to victory. (Kane also delivered one to Pete Rose that night.)
WrestleMania 15 featured one of the most despised matches in WWF history, the Hell in a Cell match between Undertaker and Big Boss Man; Taker was once again a villain, heading a demonic mafia called the Ministry of Darkness, while Boss Man was a lackey in Vince McMahon’s Corporation faction. Nobody minded seeing Boss Man lose, but the manner in which he was defeated — hung by a noose in the middle of the cage — defied all good taste. The outcome also defied logic; after the match it was revealed that Taker and McMahon had been in cahoots all along. It makes sense why WWE rarely plays historical highlight packages of the streak, considering how inconsequential and/or infamous some of its early matches were.
At the Astrodome for ’Mania 17, Taker — now a motorcycle-riding “American Badass” — felled Triple H. Announcer Jim Ross made note of the streak, which was at eight at the start of the match. At 18 the Undertaker clashed with Ric Flair, who was then the putative co-owner of the company. 19 was a handicap match against the Big Show and A-Train (a.k.a. Prince Albert, a.k.a. Lord Tensai, a.k.a. current WWE commentator Jason Albert); Taker got an assist from Aussie strongman Nathan Jones in the win. WrestleMania 20 saw a return of Taker’s undead persona and his feud with Kane. The result was the same. At 21, Randy Orton tried to end the streak — Taker’s undefeated run was now a story line. But even with the assistance of his dad, “Cowboy” Bob Orton, Randy fell short. 22 was a casket match against Mark Henry; Taker won. At WrestleMania 23, he fought champ Batista; the Undertaker won and claimed the title. 24 again saw him pursuing the championship, this time against Edge; Taker again won the belt. WrestleMania 25 and 26 were the legendary matches between the Undertaker and Shawn Michaels; at this point, the entire story line was Michaels’s desire to prove himself by breaking the streak. (Despite never winning, his epic performances earned Michaels his own streak-like designation — the moniker “Mr. WrestleMania.”) 27 and 28 were against Michaels’s buddy Triple H; Taker won the first, but was unable to leave the ring under his own power, so he demanded the second as a chance for redemption. Michaels refereed the rematch to bring the four-year story line full circle. The opponent in 29 was CM Punk, who tormented Taker by defiling the memory of the recently dead (in real life) Paul Bearer.
Then came WrestleMania 30.
It’s safe to say nobody saw this coming. Despite Lesnar’s physical dominance, the match seemed destined to be another notch on Taker’s belt. The reasons were numerous: Lesnar stood little to gain from the win; Lesnar is also a part-time performer, and the thinking went that if Taker were to lose, it would be to a younger star who could coast on the triumph. And with WrestleMania 32 already announced for the Dallas Cowboys’ AT&T Stadium, many fans were looking two years down the line, when they guessed Taker would retire in his home state and in front of the biggest crowd in wrestling history.
He didn’t make it that far. He hasn’t announced his retirement, but it feels imminent, and regardless, the Undertaker who wrestled Sunday looked old and slightly wobbly for the first time, so it’s hard to imagine him continuing for two more years. Fans everywhere are perplexed as to why Lesnar was gifted with the win when he stood to gain so little. If I had to guess, I’d bet that Taker didn’t decide he was done until his feud with Lesnar had already gotten under way and he realized his body wasn’t responding to training like he wanted it to. If he chooses to retire now, it would be at something approaching the top of his game. He is 49 years old, after all.

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Usually, I’d find someplace to mention the Undertaker’s real-life name, Mark Calaway. But in this case, what would be the point? Taker never broke kayfabe, almost never appeared out of character in public, and lived his gimmick to the point that Saturday night, as his old manager Paul Bearer (né William Moody) was being posthumously inducted into the WWE Hall of Fame, Taker appeared backlit and in full regalia to silently toast his old cohort. Ten feet in front of him was a sea of wrestlers — good guys, bad guys, legends of every stripe — who were attired in their Sunday best, politely clapping even at their former putative rivals. They were all out of character to honor the history of the business. Undertaker wouldn’t even break scene to eulogize a dear friend.
Except for a few interviews during that odd biker spell in the early 2000s, he always kept character, sidestepping the “reality” of the sport and instead always protecting its old-school ethos. And that, in the end, is the most compelling explanation for the Undertaker’s loss on Sunday. Taker has long been considered the most respected voice of tradition and morality in the WWE locker room. Wrestling custom holds that you always “go out on your back” — losing in your last match to give some glory to a guy who’ll use it to build his career going forward. But in the modern era, with WWE functioning as a monopoly (and owners of the video archives of nearly the entire industry), the notion of legacy has become more powerful than ever. WWE will own the Undertaker’s recorded history for years after he’s gone, and preserving his undefeated streak would have had significant marketing value to the company. But wrestling tradition says you lose your last match, and wrestling tradition won out, which is a decision that would have been Taker’s to make.
It probably didn’t hurt that he respects Lesnar and is a big MMA fan. Taker was in the audience at UFC 121 in 2010, when Lesnar lost the UFC heavyweight title to Cain Velasquez. Taker and Lesnar had a run-in that proved to be one of the most hotly debated wrestling topics of the year. Regardless of whether Taker was inviting Brock to a WrestleMania match — the prevailing theory — or whether he was challenging his manhood, the story line was set for the next time the two men would find themselves in the ring together.