By Bruce Mitchell, PWTorch columnist

The death of Ray Traylor passed without much comment. It's no surprise anymore when a member of his wrestling generation dies. The problems remain.

I saw Ray Traylor from the beginning. It was 1987 and Ray Traylor had just gotten the big break that started his career. He was Big Bubba Rogers, the stoic bodyguard for the maniacal motormouth Jim Cornette and his tag team, The Midnight Express. On this particular night they were in the Greensboro Coliseum to face a new good guy team called the New Breed, Sean Royal & Chris Champion. The new Breed went on to, well, not much, but they're not the point of this story anyway.

Big Bubba, Mama's Boy Jimmy, and the Real Express were also appearing in front of some of their biggest fans, a collection of Greensboro wrestling show regulars who named themselves Front Row Section D. If that sounds a little geeky, maybe it was, but thousands of fans have raised their cardboard signs in unwitting tribute on national television for over fifteen years now. We were heel fans in a time when that got you cursed at, spat upon, and challenged to fight, instead of catered to and congratulated.

We had a hell of a lot of fun back then.

So anyway, Chris Champion is fighting with the Midnight Express' newest member, "Sweet" Stan Lane outside the ring. Champion picks up Lane and throws him into Bubba with an Atomic Drop. Either Champion pushes him too far or Lane jumps too much, but anyway he goes ass-over-tea kettle into Big Bubba, who lands right at our feet. Bubba's job most of the time was stand there and look mean, so this was something of a blown spot.

I look down at my feet and see a nice souvenir: Bubba Rogers's sunglasses. I reach down and pick them up while the helpful fans around us scream "Smash them!" and other less pleasant suggestions. I figure they'd be some convenience store cheapies, since the Midnight Express act was regularly pelted with all kinds of crap. In fact, Bubba was brought in to be something of a real life bodyguard for Cornette.

I was wrong. These were prescription sunglasses that Rogers obviously needed, seeing that the lenses were a good inch thick. That presented a problem for an old-time heel act like the Midnight Express. If they took the glasses back in front of all the people that hated them, they might seem like almost normal for an instant.

That would never do.

So while FRSD leader John Hitchcock held the glasses in the air and said "Here, guys!" Cornette started directing traffic. Suddenly he's on the opposite end of the ring, tennis racquet raised sideways to smash Royal's skull. Fans scream at this sissy, who clearly is about to commit murder. Referee Tommy Young wrestles the racquet from Cornette just in the nick of time and the other five wrestlers start a big brawl to get the fans' attention. The Louisville Lip stalks around the ring in frustration at his near miss and, without missing a beat, snatches the glasses from Hitchcock's hand. I doubt anyone other than the members of our little group ever noticed.

Bobby Eaton, who never talked, followed his manager a few seconds later. A quick "Thanks, guys" slid out of his mouth. Rogers put his glasses back on and it was back to "Big Bubba, No Trouble." The Midnight Express and the New Breed went to a pretty darn good time limit draw.

I learned something that night about how smart and quick on their feet the very best performers in the sport were. Hitchcock and I (along with K.C. O'Connor) went on to have some very different learning experiences with Jim Cornette, but whenever I saw Ray Traylor in any of his guises, I usually thought of that one night at the beginning of his career.

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