When pop culture clashes with real life

It was one of probably a dozen similar calls he got on his cell phone that week back in January 2003.

Talking to some sports reporter in a town called Poughkeepsie, Chris Benoit talked to the stranger as if he were sitting in the booth next to him at that Chili's in Houston.

"Hey, Sean, thanks for your time," Benoit said at the end of the interview, one that plugged an upcoming card. "You'll have to come to the show when we're in town. It would be nice to meet you."

Yeah, right, I thought. This guy's blowing smoke up my butt. Anything to get some good press for the company.

Three weeks later, there I stood in the backstage area of the Mid-Hudson Civic Center, waiting a few minutes. An hour or so after flying off the top rope, leaping through air and head-butting a laid-out guy named Edge, a soft-spoken Benoit in a button-down shirt and khakis greeted me.

"Hi, Sean. It's a pleasure you meet you. How ya doin'?"

OK, now on the job, I've met guys like Michael Jordan and Derek Jeter and Tiki Barber. No sweat. Growing up a World Wrestling Federation fan, taking in many a WWF show at this same Civic Center as a kid — and never getting anywhere near the backstage area — here I was talking to one of the tops guys in the company, and I was actually excited!

That will be my lasting memory of Benoit, who died Monday at the age of 40. He and his family, including his wife and 7-year-old son were found dead in their home. Leading up to tonight's 8 p.m. "Monday Night Raw" live broadcast on the USA network, which is being dedicated to Benoit, no further details of his death have been made public.

For a guy who made his living in what many call a "fake sport" — even the now-World Wrestling Entertainment calls its product "sports entertainment," since the outcomes and storylines are pre-determined — I walked away from both my phone conversation and brief, in-person talk with Benoit thinking he's just a real guy.

He had a family. He went to work every day. It just so happened that his job took him to places from Asia to Albuquerque, Indianapolis to India, Portland to Poughkeepsie. It just so happens that his office was a 20-foot-by-20-foot squared circle. You cross-check facts at work? He gave people the "Crippler Cross-face."

In all of sports — "fake" or not — he might have been one of the most real guys I've ever met. In death, he deserves the same respect he gave — be it in the boys in back or just someone he met once backstage. Benoit deserves the dignity he showed even a stranger.

The sad irony, though, is that the WWE has been involved in a storyline that involves the "presumed death" of chairman Vince McMahon (or at least his on-screen persona, "Mr. McMahon"). For those not in the loop, Mr. McMahon stepped into his limousine two weeks during the final segment of "Raw" from Wilkes-Barre, Pa. As Vince closed the door, the limo exploded into flames; the segment was taped two nights before.

Ever since, everyone in WWE had been pushing the story that Vince is dead. Tonight's three-hour "Raw" broadcast was supposed to be a memorial to McMahon. In the interim, former female wrestler/manager/valet "Sensational" Sherri actually did pass away, with only a small mention on WWE programming. The show must go on, remember. Death, be damned.

Luckily, that stopped tonight.

At the opening of the "Raw" program, McMahon addressed the TV audience from an empty arena, the wrestling card since canceled. Finally, common sense overcame the bottom line.

Benoit's death is a tragedy. His wife's and son's, too. Death is not a storyline. It's not something to be joked about, not to make money on.

In continuing its wretched Mr. McMahon-is-dead story, the WWE simply trivialized the real-life deaths of such brethren as Owen Hart, Curt Hennig, Brian Pillman, et al.

You don't always get a second chance in life.

Sadly, the WWE got its second chance today. Thankfully, the company seized the moment.