Suicide Is Potentially Very Painful
The most common move in wrestling is still so dangerous.
“If you drink from a bottle marked ‘POISON,’ it is certain to disagree with you sooner or later.” — Alice in Wonderland, Chapter 1
In theory, the suicide dive is a surprising, desperation move that a high-flying babyface can use to even the odds. The heel powders to the outside to strategize or recover, assuming the sane and spirit-of-the-rules-respecting hero(ine) will obey the referee and wait in the ring. Seeing that the villain (1) has taken their foot off the gas and (2) threatens to sully the match through intentional count out, the virtuous babyface seizes the moment (more than a little inspired by the heat they’ve taken), dashes toward the ropes, and flies between them, crashing into the unsuspecting heel.
It’s a nice spot, especially when everything lines up. We’ve all marveled at Austin Aries’ simulated car crash, rewound to watch Seth Rollins glide perfectly between the ropes or scratched our head in amazement at how Ace Romero even fits through there.
But, if you’ve been watching wrestling for more than a few weeks, you know that toes get caught on middle ropes, bases position themselves just a step too far, and sometimes, the realism of the spot is such that the heel isn’t ready. When that happens, people fall on their heads.
Cesaro and Sasha Banks are just two big names who have had scary landings on WWE pay-per-views in recent memory. On an episode of AEW Dark a couple months back, Sadie Gibbs performed a Sasuke Special when Nyla Rose was positioned for a traditional suicide dive, causing Gibbs to land meters short of Rose. Luckily, she landed feet-first and somehow didn’t injure a knee or ankle, but it was a great illustration of just how many different ways diving onto an opponent who’s pantomiming that they’re not expecting it could go wrong.
Then, of course, there’s the tragic passing of La Parka (Jr./II), who was paralyzed and ultimately died of complications from a suicide dive gone wrong. If you watch the video, La Parka’s right shin catches on the ropes, stopping his outward trajectory and causing him to effectively bellyflop to the plywood-over-concrete floor, where his face violently hits the ground (maybe even the edge of the metal guardrail), paralyzing him from the neck down instantly.
Worst of all, his opponent RUSH allows Parka to crash straight through his arms, prioritizing Tranquilo and not making the spot look cooperatively “fake” over his opponent’s safety.
Parka never walked again, and in spite of surgeries designed to provide him with at least some quality of life, the luchador passed away about two and a half months later, after a long, agonizing hospital stay.
So, when talking heads criticize dives to the outside, they should be careful not to paint the problem with the “too many moves” brush. Yes, dives to the outside have become as ubiquitous as an arm drag, but the problem isn’t the fact that people do them, it’s the lack of psychological and physical care.
Every suicide dive should feel like a daring, game-changing act. The audience shouldn’t just be impressed with the flight; they should be elated that a worm who thought they were hiding on the outside was still plucked from above by the smarter bird. Most importantly, they shouldn’t have to worry that they’re going to see someone die.
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