If most people heard the name César Cuauhtémoc González Barrón, they’d have no clue to whom that was. Frankly, if most people heard his ring name, Silver King, they’d probably have very little clue to who he was, either. Then again, I am some lowly brogger living in America, and I’d wager to say that those who lived in Mexico, the names probably would definitely trigger more recognition than it would anywhere outside of the country.
Silver King passed away on May 11, 2019, inside the wrestling ring, while performing at a show in London, England. Reports say it was due to a heart attack, but there’s still no official cause of death released, officially. He was wrestling fellow luchador, Juventud Guerrera when this tragedy occurred, and it’s definitely a sad day in professional wrestling when one of the boys goes out so suddenly and unexpectedly. Silver King was 51 years old, which definitely classifies as “way too soon,” especially considering he was still actively performing literally up until his death.
Although his career legacy is vastly greater and more colorful when you look at his accolades in Mexico and pretty much anywhere outside of the United States, I always remembered him the most from his time in WCW, when unfortunately he and many other Mexican wrestlers were primarily a part of the company to be jobbers and/or the guys to warm up the crowds, usually by jobbing. But I’ve always had an affinity for the jobbers of wrestling, because most of the time, superstars are boring and one-dimensional, and it’s only by the strength of the guys doing the jobs to them, do they even look good.
I remember just about all of them from WCW; Silver King, El Dandy, Damien, La Parka, Psychosis, Villano IV and V, Hector Garza, Ciclope, Lizmark Jr. and Juventud Guerrera. And it’s not just out of convenience to fit my narrative, but Silver King always stood out to me, because he was one of the few Mexican expats on the roster, that wrestled without a mask. Furthermore, he was always a little on the tubby side of stout, yet in spite of his bulk, he was still as agile and high-flying any other luchador, which just added to the ironic entertainment value he brought to WCW.
It’s somewhat interesting to me that I’m often times more saddened and upset by the passing of wrestling personalities over wrestlers themselves. Don’t get me wrong, I’m always sad to hear of when familiar wrestler names to the wrestling I grew up watching are announced as being among the recently departed, but there’s no denying that it’s the guys that weren’t even full-time wrestlers, or even wrestlers themselves, are the ones to elicit the most reaction out of me, because I think often times, wrestlers come and go, but it’s the guys like the announcers, commentators and managers that are the spice that makes professional wrestling so intriguing to a nerd like me.
