What shocking admission did former wrestler Mark Mero recently make?

Former WWE and WCW star Mark Mero recently admitted on a podcast that before entering the professional wrestling business, he was involved in trafficking cocaine with Colombian cartels. This revelation starkly contrasts with his colorful in-ring personas from the 1990s.

Who did Mark Mero portray during his wrestling career in WCW and WWE?

In WCW, Mark Mero wrestled as Johnny B. Badd, a character given to him by Dusty Rhodes that featured heavy makeup and a glitter gun. Later in his career, he competed in WWE as the "Wildman" alongside his then-wife Sable, who became a massive mainstream star.

How does the 1990s wrestling locker room compare to today?

The locker rooms of the 1980s and 1990s were largely lawless environments fueled by steroids, questionable pills, and cheap beer. In contrast, today's wrestling industry is highly corporate and sanitized, with modern talent often focusing on brand equity, playing video games, and avoiding the dangerous lifestyles of the past.

What was The Undertaker's opinion on the modern wrestling locker room?

The Undertaker previously criticized the modern wrestling locker room for being too soft, noting that today's performers play video games and focus on their appearance. He proudly compared it to his era, where wrestlers frequently carried knives and guns in their gym bags.

What major professional wrestling events are scheduled for early 2026?

In the spring of 2026, the professional wrestling industry is building toward two massive premium live events. AEW Dynasty is scheduled to take place in Kansas City on March 30, followed closely by WrestleMania 41 in Las Vegas on April 19.

From cartels to consoles: Wrestling's wild locker room evolution

The Wild West is Dead and Buried

Here we are, sitting on March 28, 2026. The professional wrestling world is practically vibrating with anticipation. AEW Dynasty is exactly two days away, ready to tear the house down in Kansas City. Meanwhile, the neon lights of Las Vegas are already calling our names, with WrestleMania 41 looming just 22 days out.

Everything in the industry feels massive right now. Everything feels highly corporate. We have billion-dollar television deals, executives walking around in custom suits, and wrestlers who talk openly about their brand equity on social media platforms.

And right in the middle of this heavily sanitized, perfectly PR-approved reality, former WWE and WCW star Mark Mero decides to drop an absolute nuclear bomb on a podcast.

He casually admitted that before he found fame in the wrestling business, he was trafficking cocaine with Colombians. Let that sink in for a second.

You remember Marc Mero. He was Johnny B. Badd in WCW, a character literally handed to him by Dusty Rhodes because he happened to look a bit like Little Richard. He ran around shooting a glitter gun and wearing heavy lip sync makeup. Later, he was the "Wildman" in WWE, taking backdrops and getting beaten up every week while his then-wife Sable became the biggest mainstream star on the planet.

To find out that this guy was running with actual cartels before he laced up a pair of boots is absolutely insane. It is like finding out the guy who played the Blue Power Ranger was a weekend hitman. Actually, wait, that might have happened. But you get the point.

The Ghost of the 1990s Locker Room

Mero's revelation is completely shocking, sure. But if you have paid any attention to the history of this bizarre carnival business, it shouldn't really surprise you.

The wrestling locker rooms of the 1980s and 1990s were completely lawless environments. It was a traveling circus of massive human beings fueled by steroids, questionable gas station pills, and cheap beer.

We romanticize the Attitude Era and the Monday Night Wars because the television output was incredible. Stone Cold driving a beer truck to the ring is etched into our collective memory. But behind the curtain, it was a waking nightmare of bad decisions, zero oversight, and early graves.

A few years ago, The Undertaker famously complained that the modern locker room is soft. He grumbled about how guys today play video games and make sure their gear looks pretty. He proudly compared it to his era where guys carried knives and guns in their gym bags.

Well, Mero just proved the Deadman right. They absolutely were out of their minds. But the idea that we should be nostalgic for an era where the boys were running international narcotics operations is utterly ridiculous.

Enter the Video Game Generation

This brings us to the polar opposite end of the spectrum. While Mero is making headlines for his past criminal enterprises, what is Kenny Omega doing?

He is making news for two things. First, he publicly praised the current AEW roster for their intense dedication to the craft of professional wrestling. Second, he is happily debating his pick for the greatest wrestling video game of all time.

You literally cannot script a better contrast. The dichotomy of the sport is perfect.

The old guard literally trafficked narcotics. The new guard argues about Nintendo 64 cartridges, frame rates, and whether WWF No Mercy holds up better than Virtual Pro Wrestling 2.

Kenny Omega is the poster child for the modern, nerd-centric wrestling locker room. The guy named his finishing move after a Final Fantasy VII boss. He comes to the ring dressed like characters from Street Fighter. He genuinely cares more about the FGC (Fighting Game Community) than he does about old school wrestling traditions.

And you know what? He is also arguably the greatest in-ring performer of his generation. His dedication to biomechanics, match psychology, and elite athletic conditioning is completely off the charts.

The modern locker room looks like an esports lounge. You have guys playing Smash Bros in the corner, someone else vlogging for their YouTube channel, and three guys studying King's Road tapes on an iPad. It is a completely different world.

Where the Modern Era Fails

I am not going to sit here and pretend the 2026 wrestling scene is flawless. Far from it.

While I am thrilled that wrestlers are no longer dropping dead at 42 years old, the modern approach has created a completely different set of problems. Sometimes, that video game mentality bleeds way too much into the actual matches.

You watch Dynamite or Raw these days, and half the roster wrestles like they are trying to execute a pre-programmed sequence in WWE 2K24. It is overly choreographed. It lacks struggle.

When everyone is super dedicated to having a technical masterpiece and getting star ratings, you lose the gritty, unpredictable danger that made wrestling feel like a real fight.

You knew the guys in the 90s were unhinged. You felt it through the television screen. Mero's cartel story just confirms what the audience already subconsciously knew: these guys were actually dangerous.

Today, everyone is a professional athlete. They hydrate, they stretch, they coordinate their spots perfectly. It is objectively better for their long-term health. But strictly from an entertainment standpoint? It can feel incredibly sterile.

When two guys stand in the middle of the ring trading forearm shots for three minutes straight because they saw it in a Japanese match from 1994, it doesn't look like a fight. It looks like a dance routine. When a Canadian Destroyer is used as a transition move for a two-count in the 12th minute, the illusion is completely broken.

The Collision Course of 2026

But despite my complaints, the business has never been healthier. The money is absurd, and the athletes are the most physically gifted performers we have ever seen.

This Sunday at AEW Dynasty, we are going to see things that defied the laws of physics thirty years ago. The AEW roster's dedication, as Omega pointed out, is very real. They put their bodies through absolute hell on a weekly basis to entertain us.

And then we look ahead to April. WrestleMania 41 in Vegas is going to be a monstrous spectacle. John Cena is gearing up for his farewell, CM Punk is ready for a massive spot, and Cody Rhodes has the weight of the company on his shoulders.

The corporate suits at TKO have polished this product to a blinding shine. You cannot have a guy with Mero's background as the face of a publicly traded company today. The public relations department would have a collective heart attack.

We traded the rockstar, outlaw lifestyle for corporate stability, massive television rights fees, and global stadium expansions.

The Final Bell

We are incredibly lucky to be fans right now. The Monday Night Wars were a glorious, burning trainwreck, but that era was built on a foundation of absolute chaos and human suffering.

I will take the video game nerds over the cartel associates any day of the week.

Sure, they might spend way too much time setting up their elaborate springboard dives. They might care a little too much about internet feedback and star ratings. They might completely lack that terrifying aura of genuine menace that the old veterans had.

But at least when they leave the arena on Sunday night after Dynasty, they are just going back to their hotel rooms to play Tekken and complain about room service.

And honestly? That is the biggest victory the wrestling business has ever pulled off.