WWE: The Undertaker must stop torturing himself over his legacy

The Undertaker faces the greatest battle of his 30-year career in WWE – with his own inner turmoil. It’s time for him to embrace his legacy and end his search for the perfect retirement.

When I first started taking an interest in WWE, The Undertaker was the first character that really pulled me in.

I’m not alone in that. And you don’t have to have been watching since the early 1990s for him to have that impact on you, either. WWE’s Charly Caruso admitted on The Bump this past week that she’d felt precisely the same about The Deadman when she first joined the company four years ago, having not come from a ‘wrestling background’ before that.

Millions of people feel the same about the character and persona that debuted in WWE back at the 1990 Survivor Series and, chiefly, longevity accounts for that. We are fond of constants, things we can count on and things we know will always be there.

For over 30 years, WWE fans have had that comfort with The Undertaker. Coupled with his incredible commitment, professionalism, and body of work in the squared circle, it’s easy to see how he’s amassed a loyal, dedicated following.

While that following underpins much of what The Undertaker is today, it’s also what drives so much of the uncertainty that riddles the man himself.

This week, The Last Ride, a documentary series profiling the last three years of The Undertaker’s career with unprecedented access to the man himself, began airing on WWE Network. In it, the layers of mystique around the man himself were slowly unravelled. The results weren’t pretty at all, and that’s no fault of criticism of his, of the product or its production.

Emotionally, it was a tough watch. It was hard for me, as a fan, to see how much pain The Undertaker is in mentally. Quite apart from the incredible toll that three decades in a WWE ring have taken on him, his internal anguish was equally evident.

Mark Calaway, the man behind the character, came across as cripplingly insecure. Bizarrely, I mean that as a compliment rather than a criticism. His insecurities, worries and fears are deeply rooted, and they’re primarily based around the fact that he is so universally adored and admired, by the likes of me, by the likes of Charly Caruso and by the entire WWE Universe.

You’d think that’s an exclusively positive thing, but The Last Ride made clear that there’s far more to it than that. Calaway is, rightly, fiercely proud and protective the character that is engrained in the fabric of WWE and its fanbase. However, the reasons that have manifested that pride as fear, worry and borderline panic are, in my view, unfounded.

WWE’s modern-day fanbase is informed, educated, passionate, and not always to a positive degree. They appreciate toil and sacrifice, which is another reason why The Undertaker is lauded so heavily around the world.

One thing – among many – that a majority of fans don’t always take so kindly too, however, is the part-time performer: the wrestler who trots out a couple of times year or less for a hefty payday at a landmark event, and isn’t seen for much of the rest of the year.

So, didn’t I just define The Undertaker? In literal terms, I suppose I did. And the man himself knows that’s exactly how fans could perceive him if they were so inclined.

After all, he tends to perform only once a year at WrestleMania these days, bar a few other appearances in Saudi Arabia, Australia and the like. He’d be the prime candidate to be labelled as a part-timer, if it weren’t for the fact that, well, he’s The Undertaker. That, my friends, is the crux of the matter.

In The Last Ride’s first chapter, The Greatest Fear, Calaway refers to this himself in saying that, for him to even be on the WrestleMania card each year, there’s another performer who’s likely nailing most of the 300+ house shows WWE stages (or did…) each year that’s missing out on performing on that grand stage as a result.

The Undertaker is an old-school professional, he knows that score. He knows the deal. But whereas that pains him, the dread that wrestling fans do or should see him as a part-timer on that basis is flawed.

With a net worth of reportedly $17 million, he certainly doesn’t appear to be putting his body on the line annually for the sake of an extra few bucks. As easily WWE’s most remarkable character creation of all time, he certainly won’t be chasing limelight at the end of his career. Throughout 30 years in WWE, he’s amassed a relatively paltry seven world title runs, so he certainly isn’t doing it for championship glory, either.

He does it because he loves the business, he cares about his character’s legacy. Can you levy the same acclaim at the company’s other ‘part timers’? You know the ones I’m referring to, and I’m not so sure you can.

The idea that The Undertaker wants to keep on going until he gets his perfect finale and sendoff is far from ideal. I was in Orlando for WrestleMania 33, and The Last Ride has made clear that this was, at the time, his farewell match. His last hurrah. The fact that, in his own mind, he performed so badly in the ring that night meant he had to come back for more.

He stated that he’ll go out in a matter befitting of The Undertaker at WrestleMania, or will fall on his sword, one way another. That’s fine, and the Boneyard Match at WrestleMania 36 appears to have been a good candidate for exactly that – save for the lack of crowd.

But what if it hasn’t done the job for Calaway? Does he apply the same mantra and edict, and keep coming back in search of the perfect farewell? What if that takes another ten years? I don’t think any of us want to consider that.

As the tone of this piece probably suggests, I’m building towards a plea. No, it isn’t ‘Stop, now, before you ruin your legacy.’ That is, after all, Calaway’s greatest fear. My plea is the opposite. I want The Undertaker to stop, and stop soon – but I’m not telling him to get out of the ring.

I’ve been watching WWE for decades and have felt no greater amount of respect or fondness for any other character or performer than The Undertaker. For my money, he’s earned the right to do whatever he wants. But I need him to know that millions of other fans feel the same way about him. I want him to stop torturing himself. I want to ease his fears. I need him to understand. To me and many, he’ll never be a part-timer.

He’ll never ruin the mystery of The Undertaker – The Last Ride really only further enhanced it. The Undertaker is respected, he’s an icon. As Jim Cornette once said, the fact he never claims to be an iconic makes him the perfect candidate to be just that. He needn’t risk his health and years in the sun, post WWE, by searching for the sendoff that might never come.

He said Triple H told him “Remember who the **** you are.”

Remember indeed.