
In 1995, the landscape of sports-entertainment in the United States was dramatically different. No one of Rey Mysterio’s size or aerial ability had ever been featured in this country. The highest flier Americans had seen up until that point was “Superfly” Jimmy Snuka, and the most famous luchador was Mil Mascaras, who really never left his feet except for a bodypress off the top rope.
When ECW suffered a dramatic talent raid at the hands of WCW, many thought it could have been the death of our company. Our backs were against the wall. How could Extreme Championship Wrestling come back from a devastating blow? I knew our only hope was to come out blasting and make the next major show even better than anything anyone had ever seen before. We literally had to show the world we were still the innovators of new styles. Groundbreaking concepts were used on TV, unmatched ferocity was presented on the mic and the most cutting-edge style was presented in the ring.
I reached out to Konnan in Mexico, and without hesitation, he sent Rey Mysterio and Psicosis to South Philly for the next ECW Arena show. Konnan guaranteed me their matches would not only be state of the art, but also that nothing could match Rey vs. Psicosis in the United States. The ECW audience, which lived by the philosophy of “accentuate the strengths and hide the weaknesses,” never paid attention to the fact that Rey Mysterio wasn’t a bodybuilder, or 6-feet tall, or 300 pounds. The ECW audience saw a magnificent performer the likes of which the United States had never seen. Mysterio not only lived up to my expectations, but he also single-handedly opened up the U.S. market to the concept of cruiserweights. And he turned one of ECW’s darkest hours into one of our greatest triumphs. Gracias, “Paul Heyman tipo”!


Name: Oscar Gutiérrez 



















