On the one hand, you have a good man. On the other hand, you have a monster. And yet, they appear to be the same man. How so? If Robert Louis Stevenson taught us anything, it was that just such a dichotomy can exist. But how do you reconcile a man for forty years and a monster for a weekend?

I learned that Chris Benoit died by watching RAW last Monday. As soon as it came on, and they flashed the memoriam, I was stunned. I then listened to Vince McMahon explain what had happened. And in a dazed stupor, I watched as this man was remembered. It was a cold and sobering time.

On Tuesday, I began to learn more. I learned that Chris Benoit had in fact killed his wife and son. I learned that he had done so over a weekend. I learned details that turned this horrible event into a ghastly tragedy.

By Wednesday, I stopped following the story. I just couldn’t take it anymore. Whatever truth there was to be revealed, it was more than I could bear at the time. Chris Benoit was a remarkable man. And despite his death and the events surrounding it, he remains a remarkable man.

To understand Chris Benoit, you have to know a little bit about professional wrestling. The first thing is that pro-wrestling is not fake. Oh, it’s not ‘real’ in the literal sense of real like, say, the UFC is real. But calling it fake is like calling a play fake. It’s a little inaccurate. The terms ‘scripted’ or ‘choreographed’ might be a little more accurate. The fights are planned, yes. The storylines and the dialogue, all thought out. And yes, the hits and the punches and the landings are all performed by well-trained athletes who know how to minimize injury and pain at every turn. But fake? Fake means it’s not real. And jumping off of a ten foot ladder onto a guy on a folding table is real, no matter how you slice it or how you prepare for it.

Pro-wrestling is theater; grandeur and dramatics. It’s a little bit of stage magic mixed with a little bit of opera with a healthy dash of B-rate action movie violence. It’s entertainment. And the entertainers, the wrestlers, are not merely personalities. They are more than just characters; they are personifications. They are iconic embodiments of humanity’s traits. Greed, Loyalty, Arrogance, Honor, Vanity, Respect, Cowardice, Heroism, Drive, Apathy, and above all else - Ambition. These traits are the very fibers of humanity that make up the cast and characters in pro-wrestling. Each man and woman that walks down that ramp to the ring is more than just a single person, more than just a name and a character; they are the very embodiment of humanity. In some way or another, they are everyone.

And Chris Benoit was intensity.

Determination. Hard work. Unbridled competitiveness. These are words that have and will always bee associated with Chris Benoit. When this man stepped into the ring, the match you were about to see would be on that would elevate the most mundane of wrestlers to the heights of excellence. Their epic struggle would shake the very foundations of the world. No one stepped into the ring with the Rabid Wolverine lightly. Not his friends, not his rivals, not anyone.

Chris Benoit was the embodiment of dogged and dedicated tenacity. Through injury and insult, through adversity and opportunity, Chris Benoit walked into the ring and gave it 110% each and every time. He left his heart on the mat every day and every night. He did his part to advance the story and he did his part to make you and me believe in the fairy tale that was unfolding.

For my part, Chris Benoit was the face I put to my ambition. For over fourteen years, I’ve studied martial arts, from the most philosophical forms of kung fu to the most brutal and relentless street fighting methods I could find. And through it all no man has embodied, for me, the drive and dedication to perfection of execution that Chris Benoit did. This man was my very definition of hard work and intensity. From his Rooseveltian demeanor to his seemingly-flawless mat work, I idolized just about every trait of this man. He carried determination in his back pocket and could carry the world on his shoulders without breaking a sweat.

Even at my age, an age when many people think you’re too old to have heroes, Chris Benoit was a hero. I looked up to him and idolized him. And I will miss him.

I won’t romanticize Benoit’s death. And I certainly don’t dispute the facts surrounding the case. But the truth is, I simply cannot equate the man that I knew and looked up to with the monster that committed those heinous acts. Maybe this is Dr Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. I don’t know. I can’t reconcile Benoit’s death. But I do know that no act of a single weekend will change the truth of a lifelong legacy. It is my choice, and I hope the choice of Benoit’s fans around the world, to accept his death and the horrid events surrounding it, but to focus on his life, a life worthy of respect and admiration. And whatever madness may have been behind these events, I hope that there is now peace to be found.

To Chris Benoit; the life and not the death.

You inspired and continue to inspire.