I watched AEW’s tribute show for Brodie Lee last night. As a wrestling fan, you get morbidly familiar with tribute shows. Some are gut-wrenching outpouring of emotions, like Eddie Guerrero’s or Owen Hart’s. Some are repugnant beyond measure, like Brian Pillman’s. Some are so chilling that they are immediately redacted from history, like Chris Benoit’s. However, two things remain constant: they are hard to watch and they happen too often. But after watching the show tonight, I cannot help but feel something I never feel in the wake of these shows: catharsis. I feel deeply saddened by the loss, and I certainly expressed my grief throughout the course of the show. But I also take cold comfort in the sheer amount of love and support and unity this show exuded. It felt honest in an intensely non-commercial way, which is almost the antithesis of wrestling itself. But it is of little surprise to me that it was because of Brodie.

By now, everyone familiar with wrestling has been inundated with stories about Brodie being a loving father, a kind friend, and a good man. However, it’s the last one that sticks with me. Trevor Dame of the ThROH the Years podcast brought up a point on Twitter that has been floating around in my mind for the past several hours, and that is that most of the stories people have about him are “mundane”. Things like him buying John Silver a jacket to match his own at his own expense just for fun, needling his social media handlers at WWE, continuing to donate to the NewLegacyInc/Evil Uno Fighting Back Charity stream just to keep the guys on Twitch after streaming for twelve hours, having Aleister Black find the most obscure metal band shirt he owned so that he could wear it just to upstage Rowan on TV. It seems like everyone had at least one simple interaction like this with him that meant so much, and to Dame’s point, the consistency of these actions is what makes someone a great person. Hell, he was with AEW for less than a year, and they put the brakes on their massive year-end schedule to dedicate a full two hours of television to the man. That alone speaks volumes about his character.

What also speaks volumes about his character is the fact that the personal stories his peers have shared have largely drowned out the reflection of his in-ring career, and I say this because his wrestling ability was unbelievable. Brodie has been one of my personal top five wrestlers over the past decade. I, like many people, first saw him when he debuted as Luke Harper, the bayou madman sidekick to Bray Wyatt in the WWE. This was right when I was first coming back into wrestling after fourteen-year hiatus, but even with my limited exposure to modern day wrestling, I could tell there was something more to this guy. A lot more actually. This was before I really started digging into modern discussions of things like workrate or the independent scene, but the great ones jump off the page regardless of station. Brodie was clearly one of those guys that was “more over than his push”, as they say. The WWE’s recent history is rife with characters like this: Tajiri, Cesaro, Rusev… you know the names, and Harper was clearly one of them. He was a fucking nasty bruiser, but he did so in such a fluid manner. It was a wonderfully subtle dovetailing of rough, unclean work that popped because of his immense technical foundation. I think of it in a similar manner to countless experimental musicians, especially noise musicians, who often have years of classical training. People like Okkyung Lee or John Zorn who utilize their knowledge of form to undo said form. A discuss clothesline, a Boss Man Slam, and a big boot are not inherently “workrate” moves, but in the hands of Brodie, they were stunning.

His run in the WWE was decidedly mid-card, but I was intrigued. This was especially true after I continued to hear about Brodie’s independent run in places like Chikara and CZW. I could see his smash mouth style meshing well in CZW, but the “family friendly” Chikara? How could that work? Turns out, really fucking well. Digging into his past was a revelation. He was so dynamic. He really did live up to his namesake as a sort of super-indy Bruiser Brody (and yes, for the sake of clarity, I am going to use “indy” for wrestling and “indie” for music, as I respect the opinions of one Jawnny Blud). As I watched more of his work, I wanted to hear more from the man himself outside of his silent WWE character. Again, this was another revelation, as he was easily one of the most well-spoken, intelligent men in wrestling. I remember hearing him on a short YouTube clip outside of the WWE’s sphere of influence discussing his physical rehabilitation, and I was stunned at how gentle and witty he was. This was really driven home when he appeared on Jericho’s podcast years ago. I remember thinking to myself after listening to it, “Why won’t the WWE let this guy talk? Why can’t they unleash this dude? He’s the complete package?” Alas, Vince never saw him that way. He wanted the dude from Rochester to be a Southern madman, and since he couldn’t do a good Southern accent, he just silenced him. Another case of Vince’s short-sightedness kneecapping a man’s career arbitrarily.

Brodie was also clearly fed up with this creative stifling, and left after a needlessly protracted break from the WWE. Naturally, he channeled his frustrations with his former employer much like a young Steve Austin in ECW, and really ran with it. His AEW run took a second to pick up, but when it did, it was electric. Establishing himself as the head of the Dark Order was incredible. From his absolutely haunting portrayal of an idiosyncratic psychopath eating steaks to the hilariously abusive boss to John Silver on BTE to his utter destruction of the Nightmare Family and capture of the TNT Title, Brodie had truly established himself as a major player in wrestling. Sadly, it ended with his lung illness (non-COVID, fuck you Bruce Mitchell), and it all culminated in last night’s show.

It was hard to watch, I’m not going to lie. The testimonials were all wonderful. The spotlight of his fellow Dark Order members just felt right. The fact that his son got to book the main event and eventually awarded his father’s TNT Title made it all the more special. I cried when Silver, Reynolds, Page, and Rowan tearfully embraced in the ring, I got choked up when Anna Jay became overcome with emotions mid-match, and really nothing could prepare me for Eddie Kingston’s testimonial. Kingston is truly the best wrestler in the world right now in my opinion, and it is due to his humanity.

As I said up top, this is an incredibly sad show, but they were not practicing PR manipulation when they called it a celebration of life. It truly felt uplifting in a time of tragedy. I cannot help but feel immense pain for everyone there, but especially for his brethren in Chikara like Eddie Kingston, Orange Cassidy, Bryce Remsburg, and Chuck Taylor. The sheer trauma this year has levied at them prior to Brodie’s passing was bad enough, but this seems like a cruel, unnecessary coda to their 2020. But again, as I type this, I think of how he touched the lives of his Dark Order compatriots. I think of the constant flow of stories from Big E and Chris Harrington. I think of the road stories that Cody shared. I think of all the outpouring of love he has received in these past few days, and feel overwhelmed. I hope that everyone who knew him found solace in this show. I know I did. As I close out, I want to leave you with the match he had with Claudio Castagnoli in Chikara. It is one of my favorite matches, and exhibits just how good he was. R.I.P. Mr. Brodie Lee.