The wrestling world recently lost a titan, and the ripples of that loss are still being felt. Dory Funk Jr.’s passing at 85 has left a void that’s hard to quantify, not just because of his in-ring legacy, but because of the man he was outside the ropes. Personally, I think what makes this particularly fascinating is how Dory’s impact transcended his era. He wasn’t just a wrestler; he was a bridge between generations, a mentor, and a living testament to the values of discipline and respect.
One thing that immediately stands out is Jim Ross’s tribute on his Grilling JR podcast. Ross, a man who’s seen it all in wrestling, spoke with a rare vulnerability about Dory. He called him a ‘class act guy,’ and that’s no small praise coming from someone who’s worked with the best in the business. What many people don’t realize is that Ross’s first major assignment as a referee was a match involving Dory—a 60-minute draw with Harley Race for the NWA Worlds Heavyweight Championship. Ross admitted he had no idea what a ‘Broadway’ (wrestling slang for an hour-long draw) meant until he was in the ring with Dory. If you take a step back and think about it, this anecdote is a microcosm of Dory’s career: he was the kind of wrestler who elevated everyone around him, even a green referee like Ross.
What this really suggests is that Dory’s influence wasn’t confined to the ring. He was a master trainer, shaping the careers of stars like Kurt Angle, Edge, and Christian Cage. In my opinion, this is where his legacy truly shines. Wrestling is often seen as a solo sport, but Dory understood it was a craft passed down through generations. He and Tom Pritchard built a training system that wasn’t just about physical skill but about mindset. From my perspective, this coach’s mentality is what set him apart. He wasn’t just teaching moves; he was instilling a work ethic and a respect for the business that’s increasingly rare today.
A detail that I find especially interesting is how Dory carried himself outside the ring. Ross noted that he was always in great shape, never succumbed to the vices that derailed so many careers, and was consistently on top form around people. This raises a deeper question: how much of Dory’s success was due to his physical talent, and how much was due to his character? I’d argue it was the latter. In an industry often criticized for its excesses, Dory was a model of professionalism. What this really suggests is that his legacy isn’t just about his matches or his students—it’s about the standard he set for what it means to be a wrestler.
Finally, Ross’s uncertainty about attending Dory’s funeral due to his own health issues adds a poignant layer to this story. It’s a reminder that even the giants of the sport are human, and their struggles are often as inspiring as their triumphs. Personally, I think this moment underscores the deep bonds formed in wrestling—bonds that go beyond the ring and endure long after the final bell.
If you take a step back and think about it, Dory Funk Jr.’s passing isn’t just a loss for wrestling; it’s a loss for anyone who values mentorship, discipline, and integrity. He was a man who lived his life with purpose, and in doing so, left a blueprint for how to leave a lasting legacy. What this really suggests is that the true measure of greatness isn't in the accolades you accumulate, but in the lives you touch. And by that standard, Dory Funk Jr. was a champion in every sense of the word.
