The Joy of Taking It Seriously
What losing PAC tells us about how to love
Oct 1, 2026
September 2026 was a particularly heartbreaking month to be a wrestling fan. In the span of three weeks, two brilliant, shining lights were extinguished from the space, gone in a flash and a flurry of news shared between gasped breaths and disbelief.
At one point, wrestlers dying young was commonplace to the point of becoming hack material, enough to be a recurring "yep, this is how we talk about stuff on here" Deadspin-era bit occupying a space somewhere between celebratory and caustic.
The frequency may have lessened slightly, but the reminders occur often enough to slap us in the face with the reality that these performers are pushing their bodies and lives to the absolute limits. The last six years saw the losses of several active, on-screen wrestlers, including Brodie Lee (41), Jay Briscoe (38), Bray Wyatt (36), and Andy Williams (48).
On Sunday night, news broke that PAC had passed away. His twenty-plus-year career spanned the world and served as a blueprint for rejuvenating the modern in-ring style. The news left the wrestling community frozen to a standstill in shock.
Wednesday night, All Elite Wrestling paid tribute to their fallen star, producing, without a doubt in my mind, the greatest single episode of televised wrestling in history. It was filled to the brim with emotion, two-and-a-half hours soaked in tears, styled with beautiful testimonials and, most aptly for the subject being honoured, incredible in-ring wrestling.
A theme emerged from the words and lessons of everyone who had spent time around Benjamin Satterley: he was friendly, fascinating, accommodating, humble, and he took wrestling very seriously.
As a father of a four-year-old, the almighty algorithm makes sure to pass me along tidbits of total strangers sharing wisdom or advice about children and childhood. A week and a half or so ago, the following quote really stuck wih me, plucked from the For You tab at just the right moment.
Play is solemnity, not silliness. Adults who try to “recapture their childhood” often do so by trying to capture the whimsy of childhood. But play is serious for children, not whimsical. It’s whimsical for adults to watch, so the wires get crossed. They are “recapturing” the feeling of watching themselves watch children, watching their own memories, not of being a child. To recapture your childhood energy, take something incredibly seriously.
via @fakepalindromes on Twitter
My favourite moment among the sit-down testimonials came from Darby Allin, notorious risk-taker and loose cannon, whose proclivity to jump off anything and anywhere usually takes his matches and ideas well beyond the confines the ring and often of the arena itself. He spoke of the nerves he felt having to plan a match with someone as serious as PAC in a setting as ludicrous as an indoor golf course. Darby held his emotions together until he started to describe what it was like to build that match.
"It's funny, I thought when we were having that golf course show that we were going to show up and he'd be like 'I don't want no dumb shit, I don't want no shenanigans, I just want to keep it in the ring.' And here he is, playing in the sand. Thinking of all these fun spots."
PAC loved wrestling, and so he took it seriously.
I have spent great swaths of my life not taking things as seriously as I should have. It almost always comes in hindsight that I see what a great opportunity had been laid before me, and how much less I got out of it than I could have because “taking it seriously” felt like too much effort. Like putting too much on the line risked the pain of trying and losing. It was easier to give half, and in return get half, and walk away with a shrug thinking things just didn't work out for me that time.
But the reality is, in life, a large percentage of the time you are going to lose either way. It is going to take longer than it feels like it should to build something great that lasts. You are going to have to be unrecognized for longer than it takes to feel like you are being recognized. And when the success does come, all you've earned is the right to do more hard work.
Really LOVING something is the realization that this is the gift, and not the curse. That the building is the reward. The work is the joy.
The seriousness is the fun.
For more thoughts on last night's Dynamite, PAC's life & legacy, and our reviews every week check out Wrestling Brain.