Remembering My Friend Ben, The International Wrestling Superstar

To most of the rest of the world, he was PAC. Or Neville. Or ‘The Man That Gravity Forgot’. Or ‘The Bastard’. The WWE and AEW star who was regarded as one of the very best professional wrestlers in the business. A freak athlete capable of the extraordinary. A man of mystique, who rarely gave interviews and adhered to kayfabe. A standard-bearer in his chosen sport.

He was all of that (and more) but, to me, he was simply Ben, the local lad I had met and spent a great deal of time with during some of my most formative years.

In the summer of 2005 I decided, at age fourteen, to enrol in a local wrestling club, Newcastle’s IWF (Independent Wrestling Federation). I had fallen out of love with playing football and became much more interested in wrestling and, after some encouragement, decided to give it a go.

Back then, the IWF trained and produced shows at St. Joseph’s Hall in Gateshead, which was about a fifteen-minute drive from my house in Wallsend. It was during my very first training session that I saw Ben, who was practising some awe-inspiring high-flying moves onto a crash pad with a group that included similarly-talented lads who wrestled under the names Little Dragon, Harry Pain and ‘All The Time’ Chris Prime.

I was amazed at what they were able to do, but Ben, in particular, stood out with what he did and the way he did it. The way he controlled his body boggled the mind. A double front flip off the top rope? A handspring corkscrew moonsault over the top rope to the outside? A shooting star press that he somehow turned into an inverted Phoenix Splash? A standing 360-degree SSP? It was seemingly no problem for Ben, who would routinely perform such moves as if they were nothing, and on small shows that sometimes had less than fifty people in attendance, too.

It was all so effortless for him and, at 19-years-old, he looked the most like a wrestler out of anyone in the building, too. I think everyone sensed, even then, that the former backyard wrestler who at the time was working night shifts at a warehouse loading boxes into lorries, could go places in wrestling one day. I mean, if anyone could, it would be him.

Having spent a fair bit of time on a trampoline myself, I could also do some relatively acrobatic stuff – nothing like Ben and his mates were doing, obviously, but they saw a young kid who reminded them of themselves and basically ended up adopting me into their group. When I told them that, at the time, my favourite wrestler was The Amazing Red, they dubbed me ‘The Amazing Fred’, which was quickly shortened to just ‘Fred’. It would be the name Ben called me for years afterwards.

It wasn’t too long after I began training at the IWF that Ben started to break out on the UK independent scene. I would routinely travel with him during this time to some of the more local shows, including for the Middlesborough-based 3 Count Wrestling. It was always fun sharing a car with him and going on these road trips as you never quite knew where you’d end up. Like, for example, trying to procure weed for Tracy Smothers, who was visiting the UK on an extended tour.

His work in 3CW led him down south, to IPW: UK which, in turn, led him to the FWA, 1PW, wXw, and so on and so forth. He was going places, it seemed, and we were all very happy for him. He was always improving and basically learning on the job. It helped that he got booked against top talent, including imports like Ultimo Dragon, someone Ben grew up watching and was thrilled to share a ring with.

After El Generico and Kevin Steen came to the UK on a tour, they returned to the United States raving about this newcomer from Newcastle who could do the most spectacular things. Their recommendation got Ben booked for Pro Wrestling Guerrilla, where he became an instant sensation. Watching Ben do his thing in PWG was CIMA, who was similarly blown away and invited him to tour with Dragon Gate in Japan.

His style fit perfectly over there and he loved Dragon Gate. They loved him, too, and he became a regular for a good five years. Japan was his second home and he’d have happily been a Dragon Gate lifer, had bigger companies not consistently come calling in later years. I’d have been happy if he’d have stayed in Dragon Gate, too, since he brought me back some truly phenomenal t-shirts as gifts! I did pay Ben back in some way by getting bottles of ‘American’ Coca-Cola for him when I went on holiday to Florida, mind. He was adamant that it was much, much better than the stuff they sold in the UK.

When he wasn’t over in Japan for Dragon Gate, Ben was in demand elsewhere. He did shots for Ring of Honor, toured Italy and Spain for Nu-Wrestling Evolution and toured those countries and elsewhere for American Wrestling Rampage. It was so heartening to see him do so well, but stay humble and grateful for all of his opportunities. He knew he was talented, but I don’t think he could quite believe the places that talent was taking him. Regardless, he loved travelling and exploring new countries. The fact he was getting paid to wrestle in them was a bonus.

Whenever he was back in Newcastle, we’d find time to hang out, often in a group with some of the lads from the IWF and others he’d known since childhood, like James and Little T. Ben liked to go to Benfield Gymnastics Centre, which we had dubbed ‘The Pit’ as it had a giant foam pit we would practice moves into. He liked to go to the beach and do flips off the sand dunes. He liked to go to gigs. A favourite memory is standing with him in the front row as we watched Jurassic 5 perform at the O2 Academy in Newcastle (for the first few years of his career he had used the group’s song ‘What’s Golden’ as entrance music).

He also really liked to have a laugh and take the piss. Ben was genuinely really funny and loved to wind people up, though never in a mean-spirited way.

I remember staying at his house with a group of the lads after a ‘shinny’ (basically a small gathering of mates and short for ‘shindig’). It was very early in the morning and we’d been up smoking, drinking, listening to music and watching wrestling for a while by that point. Everyone was knackered and wanted to call it a night, but Ben, in the state he was in, thought a much better idea would be to put on one of his dad’s Rab C. Nesbitt DVDs. I had to laugh as he reacted to every single one of the episode’s jokes with an exaggerated and extended guffaw, done purely to keep everyone else awake for his own amusement.

Ben never forgot where he came from, and I’m not just talking about his beloved Newcastle Upon Tyne, a city he represented so well and always spoke of with love and pride. Even when he was a top name on the international and independent wrestling scenes, he would still wrestle for IWF if he happened to be back and there was a show nearby.

Inevitably, it’d be up to me to ask him if he could/would do it and, invariably, he’d be happy to, for an arbitrary fee that was many, many times less than what he would make from a typical booking. He didn’t do it for the money. He did it to help the place that had given him his start and to catch up with people he hadn’t seen for a minute.

And if you don’t believe me, just know that, a couple of years ago, Ben went to the funeral of Les Stewart, the man who ran and booked IWF shows when Ben first began training there back in 2004. Ben most likely hadn’t seen Les for the best part of two decades, but there he was, paying his respects. That’s the kind of man he was.

I wrestled Ben on a handful of IWF shows, in both singles and triple threat matches. It was always a learning experience and he was, comfortably, the best wrestler I was ever in the ring with. I mean, It’s not even close. I, personally, think I was a lot less intimidated wrestling him than some of the other IWF lads were or would have been, because I regularly trained with Ben and knew him well. Some people would needle me by claiming that I ‘idolised’ him. I wouldn’t go that far, because he was a genuine mate at the end of the day, but I certainly looked up to and respected him a lot, hoping to have one tenth of his talent and ability.

How could you not?

I saw first-hand how seriously he took his craft after we had a match at the Neon Club in Jarrow in November of 2008. It wasn’t a great match, as the crowd was on the smaller and less responsive side, but it wasn’t a complete disaster or anything. Ben, however, was visibly upset by it afterwards, feeling we had a better match in us. I remember at the time wondering why he cared so much, since he’d be off to Japan or goodness knows where in no time at all, wrestling in front of thousands and on TV and pay-per-view.

But he did care. He cared a lot, because he knew how good he was and had set certain standards for himself, regardless of whom he was plying his trade for on any given night. It was heartening when, about five months later, we had a significantly better match in front of a much bigger and more enthused crowd. He was thrilled with that one and I was thrilled that he was thrilled. When somebody that good is smiling and gives you positive feedback after a match you feel about ten feet all.

Less than a year later – and just a few weeks after we had come back from a trip to Amsterdam with a few of the other lads – we had our best match ever together for the CRW promotion in Morpeth and we were both chuffed. As was the promoter, Ken, who gave us a little extra in our payoff that night.

For the finish of that particular match, Ben beat me with a move he had had come up with in a training session we had earlier in the week (Ken was kind enough to let us use CRW’s six-sided ring and weight training facilities); as I ran towards him, he bypassed me and I took a front bump into the ropes, bouncing back into a bridging German suplex.

I always got a kick out of seeing him do that same move on television, knowing it was something he’d done for the very first time on me in one of our training sessions in a little unit not far from the Tyne Bridge.

Yes, it was great being in a ring with Ben, but there were a couple of times I learned the harsh lesson of just what a high level he was operating on. One time was when, during one of these training sessions at the unit, he completely blew me up with cardio drills. See, the difference was, he’d been busting his ass in Dragon Gate’s dojo for the past month or so, whereas I had been sitting on my arse doing much of nothing. I was gutted to see his evident disappointment, as I believe he thought I wanted the pro-wrestling dream a little more than I really did (as he had previously talked to me about potentially getting me a spot in the Dragon Gate Sanctuary training system). There were other times when it could be frustrating because Ben didn’t seem to understand how you couldn’t hit a particularly move or execute a particular technique as perfectly as he could. Like it was just as easy for the rest of us.

Even though Ben knew he was gifted, he would often be plagued by doubts. I remember listening to his appearance on Colt Cabana’s Art of Wrestling podcast and recognising something he had talked to me about many times before. That is, the feeling of not being quite good enough, even when everyone else is telling you that you are more than good enough. Ben was the kind of performer who could have a so-called five-star match, but be left shaking his head over things he thought had gone wrong or that he could have done better or different.

After rebuffing several offers, Ben finally signed with WWE in 2012. He broke the news to me and a bunch of other friends when we went for a night out together in Newcastle. I was made up for him, as I knew he’d absolutely kill it over there, but I also sensed that it was going to be harder to maintain a friendship with him from that point on.

That turned out to be correct, as Ben was soon a full-time WWE superstar and living in the US. Once again, he never forgot where he came from or the people who had supported him early on and I was one of those that were fortunate enough to receive complimentary ringside tickets when Ben wrestled on WWE house shows at the Metro Radio Arena.

I pretty much lost touch with Ben after that. It happens. He was just off doing his thing and I was off doing mine, as I moved away from Newcastle and ended up living in the Czech Republic. I loved celebrating his success from afar. One of the last messages I received from Ben was when he popped up out of the blue to ask where I was ‘geographically’, as he was back home and wanted to see if I fancied coming for a night out.

I’m sad that I wasn’t able to be there for that and I’m sadder still that I never got one last chance to see and talk to him. I always held out hope that I’d bump into him or some event would bring us together and it would be just like old times. I hadn’t seen Ben in about a decade, but the news of his passing completely crushed me. It felt like being fourteen again and hearing that Eddie Guerrero had died. Only this time, I knew Eddie Guerrero.

I know Ben had experienced some health problems a few years ago and was shaken when I heard him say he had almost ‘popped his clogs’ during an AEW promo after he had come back. I sent him a message on social media after hearing that, but I don’t think he even used his account any more since he hadn’t posted on it in an age. I hope somehow, some way, he saw the message and knew that I was concerned about him.

I’m devastated for Ben’s closest friends and his family, including his wonderful wife Natalie and his lovely mother, Gill. Ben surrounded himself with great people and he loved life. He really did love life and he got to live one hell of one, really. It’s just a crying shame he didn’t get to a live a longer one.

Ben was a great friend, a loving son and an astonishing, once-in-a-lifetime performer in the ring. He was incredibly humble, kind, funny and never anything but himself, despite all his success. He leaves behind an amazing legacy in both his profession and with the countless people whose lives he touched in a positive way.

I have a thousand other thoughts about and memories of Ben, but they’re going to stay with me. I will think of them and smile (and probably cry).

Rest easy, Ben. Thank you for everything. You were the greatest. Love ya, mate.