I got an e-mail the other day from the World’s Smartest Man.

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      It was four sentences, one of which was only three words long.

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      His name is Lanny Poffo, and he works as a credit counselor in Largo, Florida.

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      But he didn’t always spend his time consolidating unsecured debts.  Until his retirement from the ring in 1993, Poffo was a professional wrestler.

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      Very few people--even wrestling fans--remember ‘Leaping’ Lanny Poffo, except as the answer to the trivia question, “Which wrestler is the brother of former champion ‘Macho Man’ Randy Savage?”

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      But Lanny Poffo was more than that.  He was one of the first to use some of the innovative high-flying moves that are common today, but were perfectly unheard-of back in the eighties. He wrote poems on Frisbees and threw them to the crowd, and once even wrestled wearing a suit of medieval armor, which in hindsight is kind of lame, but back then was the height of cool to my Dungeons & Dragons-addled mind.

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    But most of all, more than anything, he was the Genius.

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    Smug, smirking, and vaguely effeminate, The Genius came to the ring wearing a gown and mortarboard where he would recite poetry to the crowd in a rich baritone voice dripping with condescension. The Genius was insufferable; crowds despised him.

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     He was awesome.

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      I’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for the undercard, especially the undercard bad guys. Hence my fondness for the Genius, as well as guys like Barry Horowitz, who--bereft of face paint, entrance music, and even a nickname--gamely stepped up every week, only to be crushed by the Ultimate Warrior, “Superfly” Jimmy Snuka, and (most inglorious of all) the Red Rooster.

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    Superstars came and went, but Horowitz was still there, taking his weekly pummeling without complaint. Meanwhile guys like Hulk Hogan couldn’t even be bothered to wrestle on television.

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     I hated Hogan. He was a glory hog. Worst of all, he insisted on pandering to us for sympathy, even though everyone knew he was going to win. Who cares about a guy who never loses? Hogan was the eighties version of the 2007 New England Patriots, a bandwagon big enough for front-runners everywhere.

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      And he wouldn’t go away. Television interviews. Foam fingers. Ice cream bars. Shut up, all ready. Do your stupid point thing, leg drop the guy, and go on your way so we can watch the rest of Saturday Night’s Main Event (hopefully with a Rockers match) in peace.

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    And one Saturday night, the unthinkable happened.

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    Hogan met the Genius and the Genius won. On national television.

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     It was a victory for nerds, working people, and underdogs all rolled into one. It was the Miracle on Ice, Douglas laying out Tyson, and La Russo vs. the Cobra Kai all over again.18-1, baby! 18-1!

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      There have been other moments like that in wrestling. Owen beating Bret at Wrestlemania. Mankind pinning the Rock for his first title. Even Horowitz got his win, eventually.

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    But the Genius, Lanny Poffo, was first, and for me, that first time will always be the sweetest.

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      As I was finishing this column, I got an e-mail from Lanny Poffo.  He still writes poetry--a book of limericks aimed at stopping children from smoking is available for sale on his website--but admitted, “I’m fifty years old and seldom get in the ring anymore.  Thanks for remembering.”

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    Thanks for remembering?

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    How could I forget?

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DAN BRODRIBB is a professional stand-up comic and writer who hosted and provided the play-by-play commentary for independent wrestling promotion Monster Pro Wrestling’s television run.  He is still active in the business as a freelance ring announcer and chair-stacker. He currently works for OSCW.  Check out his shameless self-promotion at: danbrodribb.blogspot.com