I, Arnold Schwartz being of sound mind… oh, wait that's next week... I’m not sure where to start here. A few weeks ago KM asked me to write a column on my memories of something I hold special... Stampede Wrestling. However, before I do, I really want to share some thoughts (and disclaimers!!) I am NOT a wrestling historian, but rather, a fan. I remember listening to old-time fans at the old Exhibition Auditorium in Regina, SK, Canada reminiscing about matches decades past in minute details... hold for hold, outcomes, feuds, etc. I can't do that here. My memories along with my hair line are fading. I suspect a connection...

I will try not to lament for the old days of old school wrestling. Pro-wrestling is ever changing the way it's presented and packaged. At one time it was smoky old arenas, now it's big budget productions rivaling rock concerts and Hollywood. But what hasn't changed is the basic rules: Put people in the ring, let ‘em yell and you will put people in the stands who will yell just as much. This hasn't changed one single bit. Stampede Wrestling was no different in this respect. It's collection of wrestlers yelled and groaned their way into a lot of Western Canadian wrestling fans hearts for decades entertaining fans from British Columbia to Manitoba.