In the grand spectrum of the wrestling industry, Nelson Frazier, Jr. was nothing substantial. Most people have no idea who Nelson Frazier, Jr. was, including myself, because we remembered him as names such as “(King) Mabel,” “Viscera,” or “Big Daddy V.” Some might even classify him as a glorified jobber, since he never held a major world championship, or even a mid-tier championship, and frankly, did his fair share of jobs throughout the majority of his career.
In spite of his marginally accomplished career, the news of Viscera’s passing still prompts me to write something about it, because the existence of Viscera was always something of a positive note in my life, and to actually lose him now is somewhat of a sour note worth sharing a few words about.
As a performer, I really couldn’t possibly have cared any less about Viscera. He was the typical fat guy wrestler who was almost always built up to be something of a monstrous beast for smaller, more normal physique wrestlers to overcome and slay. In the ring, he was slow and arduous as you’d imagine a 400 lb. man to be in an athletic contest, and his arsenal was the typical fat guy array of “knock opponent down and then squish him” and “squish him, get up, and squish him again.”
But the reason Viscera stuck to me, and stuck to some close friends of mine was a reason completely different and out of the blue. There was a brief period in time around 1999-2000, where we would peruse wrestling websites. Not any official websites, like WWF’s or WCW’s official pages, but supposedly insider and unauthorized websites. I’ll never go to any of these pages again if I can ever help it, because I cited them as major reasons in almost killing my wrestling fandom outright at one point (not to mention the last time I went to one, I got a rootkit).
However, back in 1999, when these sites were new and fascinating, and claimed to give us hardcore fans an insider glimpse of the wrestling industry, there was once a story that emerged, where the link was something along the lines of a rumor that Viscera had died. This was somewhat believable at the time because the Corporate Ministry had broken up and Viscera had been off of television for quite some time then. But then a day later, another link emerged, where among the blurbs was simply “Viscera is not dead.”
I don’t know why, but those four simple words stuck with us. Viscera is not dead.
As the novelty wore off with insider sites, and it became apparent that they were all full of misinformation, whiny smarks making things up to try and get clicks, and other things that really began to disenchant my fandom, it became apparent that whenever things got slow, rumored deaths seemed to be one of the more popular ploys in order to get people buzzing again. It was pretty much the equivalent to whenever people on 4chan make up a rumor about a slightly not-recently-seen actor or celebrity dying, and then the cronies pretending to verify it, to see how many sheep they could trick into believing.
But even after I stopped going to insider sites, “Viscera is not dead” stuck with us. The phrase would be dropped ever so infrequently throughout the last decade, almost as if it were a reminder, as well as a joke.
Unfortunately, the statement is no longer true, and Viscera is now actually dead. It is a phrase that cannot necessarily be used without that ironic, bitter reality that in spite of how amusing it was to us back when we were still in high school, it’s no longer valid.
So I guess as much amusement the existence, and once alleged non-existence of Viscera once gave us, it’s fitting that he deserves a little bit of respect in passing.
Viscera might not have had the most lucrative, achievement-filled career, but thinking about it, I honestly do not think it is accurately appropriate to label him as a jobber. If I had to look over his accomplishments, winning the 1995 King of the Ring may very well have been his greatest feat; in spite of the tumultuous era in which it occurred, it was still a tournament that had names such as Shawn Michaels, Undertaker, Razor Ramon and Yokozuna in the pool. It should be worth mentioning that none of those names have actually won a King of the Ring in their own respective careers, and they’re all (mostly) considered some of the best in history.
Jobbers don’t log twelve years of WWE experience, with several more on varying other circuits. He may have lost a generous share of wrestling matches, but jobbers don’t last twelve weeks much less twelve years unless there’s something respectable about them, their work ethic and capabilities. Viscera might not have been the flashiest guy in the ring, putting on twenty-minute clinics that got the fans to stand up in appreciation, but there were obviously reasons why he was pretty much capable of holding down a roster spot and a paycheck for as long as he did.
Jobbers are men who wrestle on the weekend under ordinary names, wearing ordinary attire, and having no personas. Jobbers don’t provide for their families by wrestling; they do that with their menial day jobs, and wrestle because they’ve got grand dreams or an extremely high excess of physical energy, and want to make a few extra bucks on the side. Jobbers do NOT get to roll around in rings with WWE Divas.
Viscera was none of the above.
Unfortunately now, Viscera is not dead. He was only 43 years old, and as it’s always said whenever the next wrestler passes, he was way too young to have died so early.
