Wrestling is my safety blanket. When I’m feeling down or when life is a bit too scary, I turn to my imaginary world of superheroes. Of giants and champions. I feel safe there. All of which is why I get sad when I see shit begin to leak out of that world. I want to bury my head in the sand when accusations of abuse or manipulation run rampant on Twitter. I genuinely hate it when the discussion turns to the horrible deeds rather than the fantastic matches.