I was scared at first. Scared that the love I thought I felt was just nostalgia for a simpler time. I was a different person now than when they originally walked into my life. My eyes are nearly two decades older than they were the first time I saw them, and they’ve seen so much since then. Would they still look upon them with fondness? Does my heart still have the ability to care deeply enough? But they came back and the joy returned. And it really was love. I know that now.
So thank you, American Gladiators. It’s nice to feel this way again.
I wrote to express my optimism last month when the New American Gladiators premiered and I’m writing now to say that my hopes were realized. I watched the entirety of this season’s tournament and was entirely satisfied with the results. Now, I actually find myself looking forward to next season (whenever they get around to making it). I loved the new events (Pyramid was an absolute joy to watch), the Gladiators were fantastic (Wolf’s bizarrely poetic contestant taunts delighted my roommate and me), and the Eliminator was so grueling that it truly earned its name.
There have been folks that told me they didn’t want to watch this year because they didn’t want to taint the memories of the original. These people should be sprayed with a water bottle like they’re misbehaving cats. If the Gods of Television judge us worthy of a second season, every last one of you better clear your schedules to prepare. If not, I’ll come to eat of your houses dressed like Mayhem and shoot Nerf Balls at you. I will. I’ve got nothing else to do.
Watch American Gladiators Season Two. Do it.