Paul Wight, better known to everyone who grew up watching television in the nineties and two-thousands as The Big Show, is a bit of a walking contradiction. He’s 7 feet tall. He’s spent most of his life weighing north of 400 pounds. Yet, for some reason, fans spent half his career making fun of how many times he turned from a "good guy" to a "bad guy" instead of marveling at the fact that a man that size could do a sunset flip.
It’s weird.
People forget what a spectacle he was when he first showed up. When The Big Show signed that massive ten-year contract with WWE back in 1999, he wasn’t just another wrestler. He was the "Giant" who had already conquered WCW. He was the guy who could move like a cruiserweight but hit like a freight train. Honestly, we probably took him for granted because he was always there, like a mountain that doesn't move. But if you look at the tape from his early days, the agility is terrifying. He was doing moonsaults in practice. A man that size should not be able to leave the ground, let alone rotate in the air.
The Myth of the Seven-Foot Athlete
Wrestling history is littered with tall guys. You had Andre the Giant, of course. You had Giant González, who was taller but couldn't really move. Then you have The Big Show. What made Paul Wight different from the guys who came before him wasn't just the height; it was the athleticism.
He didn't start in a wrestling ring. He was a basketball player at Wichita State. You can see it in his footwork. Even when he was at his heaviest—pushing 500 pounds during some of the darker periods of his career—his balance was impeccable. Most giants in the business have "bad knees" written into their DNA from day one. Wight managed to survive decades of taking "bumps" on 1.5-inch plywood and steel. That’s not just luck. That’s an incredible amount of body awareness and strictly disciplined training that people rarely give him credit for.
Think about the ring collapse with Brock Lesnar in 2003. That wasn't just a stunt; it was a cultural moment. When the ring imploded on SmackDown, it didn't matter that it was a rigged spot. What mattered was that Paul Wight was the only person on the planet who made that spot believable. If it had been anyone else, it would have looked like a cheap trick. With him, it felt like physics finally giving up.
Why the "Turns" Actually Happened
If you ask a hardcore wrestling fan about The Big Show, they’ll probably joke about his "heel turns."
Some counts put it at over 30 times.
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It became a meme. But if you look at it from a promoter's perspective—specifically Vince McMahon’s—it makes perfect sense. The Big Show was the ultimate "utility player." If you needed a monster for a new hero to overcome, you turned Show heel. If the crowd was getting bored and needed a massive hero to save the day, you turned him babyface. He was too valuable to keep in one lane. He was the "break glass in case of emergency" guy for the WWE creative team for twenty years.
He was also one of the few guys who could lose a match and not lose his "aura." Most wrestlers get "buried" if they lose too much. Not Wight. He was so big that the audience always believed he could win the next one. He survived losing to Floyd Mayweather at WrestleMania 24—a match where he actually let a boxer half his size break his nose for the sake of the story. That’s a level of professionalism that is rare in an industry full of massive egos.
The Physical Toll of Being a Giant
Living as a giant isn't a movie. It’s a medical struggle. Wight has been open about his battle with acromegaly, a condition caused by a tumor on the pituitary gland that leads to excess growth hormone. He had surgery to stop the growth in the early nineties, but the effects on the skeletal system stay with you forever.
Every time The Big Show climbed those turnbuckles, he was putting thousands of pounds of pressure on joints that were never meant to handle it. By the mid-2010s, you could see the pain. He was slower. His hips were giving out. But then, something crazy happened.
He got ripped.
In 2017, photos started surfacing of a 45-year-old Big Show with a six-pack. He lost over 70 pounds. He basically reinvented his entire lifestyle to prove he wasn't just "the big guy" who was collecting a paycheck. He wanted to go out on his own terms. That transformation is probably more impressive than any title win he ever had. It showed a level of grit that most people who retire on their couches will never understand.
The AEW Transition and the Paul Wight Era
When he left WWE for AEW in 2021, it shocked the system. He had been a WWE staple for so long that seeing him in a different colored ring felt wrong, like seeing Mickey Mouse at Universal Studios. But his role changed. He became a mentor. He became "Paul Wight" again, dropping the moniker that WWE owned.
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In AEW, he wasn't expected to main event every night. He was there to provide "color" on commentary and help the younger generation understand the "psychology" of the business. Wrestling isn't just about the moves. It’s about the spaces between the moves. It’s about making the audience feel something. Wight understands that better than almost anyone because he had to spend his whole career making people believe he was a monster while being, by all accounts, one of the nicest guys in the locker room.
Misconceptions About His "Lazy" Years
There’s a narrative that Wight got "lazy" in the mid-2000s. He was sent down to developmental (OVW) at one point to lose weight. People point to that as a failure.
They’re wrong.
Imagine being 7 feet tall and being told you need to run three miles a day. Your heart is the size of a grapefruit. Your lungs are fighting for air. Wight wasn't lazy; he was burnt out. He was working 200+ days a year on the road, sleeping in airplanes that weren't built for him and staying in hotel beds where his feet hung off the end by two feet. The "laziness" was actually just a human being hitting a wall. The fact that he came back from that and wrestled for another fifteen years is a testament to his mental strength.
He’s held the WCW World Heavyweight Championship, the WWE Championship, the World Heavyweight Championship, and the ECW World Championship. He is the only person to have held all four of those specific titles. That’s not a record you get by being lazy. It’s a record you get by being indispensable.
What the Big Show Taught Us About Longevity
Most wrestlers' careers are like a firework. They go up, they look pretty for three seconds, and then they disappear. Paul Wight is more like a lighthouse. He’s been a constant.
He taught the industry that:
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- Being a "giant" is a psychological role, not just a physical one.
- You have to evolve or die (literally and professionally).
- Respect from your peers is worth more than a "five-star" rating from a critic.
Moving Forward: The Legacy of Paul Wight
We won’t see another Big Show. Modern wrestling is moving toward smaller, faster athletes. The "Era of the Giant" is mostly over, replaced by high-flyers and technical wizards. When Paul Wight finally hangs up the boots for good, a specific type of storytelling will die with his career. He was the last of the true attractions who didn't need a gimmick to get your attention—he just had to walk through the curtain.
If you want to truly appreciate what he did, go back and watch his match against The Undertaker from Cyber Sunday 2008, or his extreme rules match against Ric Flair in ECW. Look at how he moves. Look at how he sells for guys who are half his size. He was a master of making his opponents look like superheroes.
How to Appreciate the "Giant" Style Today
If you’re a newer fan who only knows him as the guy who cries in segments or flips between teams, you’re missing the point. To understand the impact of The Big Show, you need to look at the "big men" coming up today. Guys like Omos or Satnam Singh are trying to fill those shoes, but they lack the nuance Wight had.
Next Steps for the Hardcore Fan:
- Watch the "Vader vs. The Giant" matches from WCW 1996. It’s some of the best "big man" wrestling ever recorded.
- Study his 2017 match with Braun Strowman on RAW. It was a literal passing of the torch and showed that Wight could still hang with the new breed.
- Listen to his long-form interviews. Specifically his appearances on Talk is Jericho. He’s incredibly self-aware about his career and doesn't hold back on the mistakes he made or the frustrations of being booked as a "comedy act" at times.
The Big Show wasn't just a wrestler. He was a survivor of an industry that usually chews up people his size and spits them out by age 35. The fact that he’s still standing, still smiling, and still contributing to the business is the real "Giant" feat.
To get the most out of your wrestling history, don't just look at the wins and losses. Look at the durability. Paul Wight stayed relevant through the Monday Night Wars, the Ruthless Aggression era, the PG era, and the rise of the "Indie" style. That kind of staying power is the rarest thing in entertainment.