Thousands have travelled from around the world to see one man. The crowd is ready to experience in real life, what millions of us have witnessed and been in awe of for most of our lives.
A special moment in entertainment which for but a brief moment, allows us to escape the humdrum realities of this mortal realm and take a journey into the valley of death with the man who holds the keys to the place.
As the lights in the arena fade to black the atmosphere changes. We are no longer surrounded by countless strangers in a sea of faces we will never recognise. In the darkness we are all drawn together by our love of this unusual form of entertainment and sucked in by the spectacle of what we are about to witness.
Literal and metaphorical electricity fills the air. Zaps of lightning flash across the room, their speed somewhat misleading, their urgency a certain juxtaposition to the methodical nature of what we are now a part of.
A bell tolls.
If anyone had any doubt that this was real.
This first bell sound starts to dispel that notion. In Pro wrestling, that bell means one thing – death is coming.
Again the bell rings out.
Children are visibly scared now as adults crank their necks to try and get a better look, still some in disbelief, could it really be him.
Here?
Now?
The third sound of bells rings out and the fans have no doubt.
He’s here. Smoke begins to bellow and obscure the view of the cameras and fans.
The human mind is scared of what it doesn’t understand.
There is a reason you get a chill when alone in the dark. And even whilst rubbing shoulders with numerous fans around you – somehow, you feel like it is just you and the deadman.
The smoke clears slightly. The lighting in the stadium continues to fill the clouds with vibrant purples and electrifying bolts of blue. As the mysterious figure begins to emerge from the depths of where he once came, you can barely make out his face, but you can certainly make out his intentions.
The crowd is a mixture of shock and excitement, many cover their mouths as gasps escape into the atmosphere of the night. Some cannot contain themselves and fill the room with chants and support for their wrestling idol.
A storm continues to brew and as the clouds crash together and flames shoot into the air above, fans are on the edge of their seat.
The fans explode and can barely believe their eyes, a childhood hero, an icon is within their sights.
A huge dark figure stands shrouded in smoke, cloaked in the mystery which has built around his persona for generations. A mythical apparition, appearing just like the smoke, his presents fills the arena is exactly the same way.
Still and silent, the man in unwavering in his focus. His face still obscured from view; his enormous physique clear for everyone to behold.
The giant of a man, in an eerily slow and methodical fashion, takes his first step and we realise that the anticipation we as fans felt when awaiting the Undertaker’s arrival, is only the beginning of the journey.
One more step, and another, we see no posturing, but don’t let that fool you. These moments are small masterpieces of showmanship and presentation.
Put together through years of evolution and adaptation, the work of hundreds of people, in order to allow us to, just for a moment, feel like the children we were when we first felt scared of the Undertaker, first felt intrigued by this mysterious man and most importantly, it takes us back to when we fell in love with pro wrestling.
And it works.
As The Undertaker begins to move ever closer to his onlooking opponent, his theatrics grabbing his foes by their chest, you can see that the nerves are getting to them and that is just what this industry veteran intends to do, letting them know that this isn’t an ordinary fight in a wrestling ring.
The darkened man bringing with him, not only his army of fans in attendance, or the decades of experience, but also the emotional and psychological control in which he imposes on his enemies. And it works.
The long road which has got us here, perfectly reflected by the distance between the entrance and the ring which now we watch the Undertaker cover at his own pace, taking complete control of everyone’s attention.
His long arms hanging his gigantic hands by his sides, his emotionless face showing no signs that this spectacle has any effect on him.
This show is to intimidate his opposition get inside of their heads, why would the Undertaker be anything but calm whilst in the middle of doing the thing that he is better than anyone in the world at.
Now the atmosphere is thick with smoke hanging in the air, crackles and sparks still align the fog and through it the Undertaker nears the ring.
The orchestra swells in unison with the emotion as he continues his slow walk up the steps. Like an old war hardened general, this is the moment that The Undertaker allows himself to survey the opposition, looking directly into their eyes for the first time, seeking out some sort of truth behind their shielded expression.
The long arms are raised like an ancient cesar in rome, a demi-god, deciding the fate of these mere mortals as the undertakers hands raise higher above his head, his power beginning to reach it’s highest potential as a huge storm erupts over the ring and solidifies the fact that death is amongst us.
With respect and love, the deadman enters the ring. One hand on his hat, his other now back at his side, the music has blown into a frenzy and nobody can take anymore of this tension.
A brief pause lets us know that the Undertaker is still fully in control, a deep breath shows us his composure. His hand begins to slowly remove his large black hat and as it passes his weathered and battle worn face, the lights in the room are brought back up to reveal the eyes of a demonic deity, as the Undertakers pupils roll back inside of his massive head.
A terrifying, poinent and iconic moment, followed by the final swell of the crowd as the atmosphere becomes less about theatre and artistry and more about the war that is coming.
The Undertaker, now in his mortal form, stares his eyes like daggers through his opponent and brings a thumb to his throat, soon – his enemy will be a deadman, just like him.