wiseMusings

Art is at its finest when it moves you to the height of your emotions; when, even if, for a brief second, you’re taken in – and even when that second has passed, the emotions continue to pour out.

That was me with KofiMania.

Kofi Kingston had been the sideshow; the “good worker” with “amazing athletic ability” for 11 years. He was never the star, though. He was never the champion. He was never an A+ player. He was the guy that A+ players beat to assert their dominance and their stardom. And he had been that guy for a decade and a year.

Then Mustafa Ali got injured, and Kofi Kingston was given an opportunity. After all, he was a “good worker.” He’d give everybody a show. It didn’t matter that he was in a tag team. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t held a singles championship in a few years. Kofi Kingston has the ability and the skills – exchange one ethnic minority highflyer for another.

This time, Kofi Kingston didn’t give everyone a show. He took it. Kofi Kingston was the star.

But to solidify his name as one of the all-time greats, to become a star, to ensure that his achievements and his legacy would never be erased – Kofi Kingston had to beat Daniel Bryan for the WWE Championship at WrestleMania.

Not a tiny feat.

WrestleMania was the place where a rising black star got humbled after being the butt of racially-charged comments by the white elitist champion. The WWE championship had never been held by an unambiguously black man before, despite the title having existed for Ober 50 years. Daniel Bryan was one of the greatest performers in WrestleMania history, and was on the roll of his career a year after returning from retirement.

In short, Kofi Kingston had to defeat institutional racism.

When he hit that Trouble in Paradise on Bryan, and the ref counted three, and he rose from the pinfall, arms and eyes wide open, everybody celebrated.

When his best friends and teammates Xavier Woods and Big E handed Kofi the classic WWE Championship, not the silly prop that Bryan was carrying around, everybody smiled.

And when Woods and E lifted Kofi up on their shoulders as Kofi held the number 1 championship in the world in his hands, everybody was like Woods. Everybody was crying – tears of joy, tears of elation, tears of achievement, tears of victory.

Three black men were in the ring as fireworks went off to celebrate one of those men having won the WWE Championship. At WrestleMania.

Of course, it was never supposed to happen. Mustafa Ali would’ve had that spot, but for injury. But on a deeper level, a black man reigning supreme at the biggest show of the wrestling calendar as the supreme champion… that was never supposed to happen. But as a great person once said, “the cream of the crop always rises to the top.” Kofi Kingston was always the cream of the crop. It just took a while – a decade and a year, to be exact – for people to realise it.

Bringing Kofi’s children into the ring to celebrate with their father was symbolic of so much – the next generation of black WWE fans can now take it for granted that a black person can be THE champion.

Bobby Lashley would win it about 2 years later. Big E would win it from Lashley a few months later.

But Kofi was the first. No matter how uneventful the Kofi Kingston title reign was, no matter how disrespectful Kofi’s title loss was, no matter how heartbreaking Kofi’s plummet back to tag team obscurity was – we’ll always have this moment to look back on.

We can always say that “Kofi Kingston was once WWE champion, and his title victory is replayed in video clips detailing the greatest moments in WrestleMania history.” They can take away Kofi’s status as a main-eventer. They can take away Kofi’s reign in 10 seconds to Brock Lesnar, only for Kofi to never get a rematch.

But they’ll never take away that one moment in time – that one moment when Kofi Kingston was a star.