Welcome to today's deep dive. You are stepping
into a world today that is equal parts dazzling,
grueling, and absolutely fueled by sheer unfiltered
passion. Yeah, that's definitely the right way
to put it. Right. We are talking about the regional
professional wrestling circuit. You already know
the massive stadium shows you see on television,
the pyrotechnics, the global superstars with
merchandise empires. The stuff everyone knows.
Exactly. But beneath all that corporate glitz
is a foundation built on local armories, freezing
cold road trips and hometown heroes who bleed
for their craft just to get a reaction from a
few hundred people. It's a completely different
reality. It really is. And our source material
today is the Wikipedia page of a man who lived
and breathed that exact reality, John Cosman.
He dominated the Western Canadian independent
circuit for decades. By the time we're done here,
you're going to intimately understand the man
behind his legendary in -ring alter ego. Principal
Richard Pound. Principal Richard Pound. Our mission
for you today is to trace the complete life cycle
of a true territory wrestling pillar. We're gonna
follow his journey from a starry -eyed kid in
the crowd with his dad all the way to a dominant
heel holding championship gold. Yeah. Cosman's
story is a master class in career reinvention.
It exposes the grinding, unglamorous reality
of the business, and it highlights the immense
power of local networking. We want you to see
exactly how a lasting wrestling persona is built
from scratch. Okay, let's unpack this. We need
to set the scene in Regina, Saskatchewan. This
is throughout the 1970s and early 80s. Cosman
wasn't born into a wrestling dynasty. No, not
at all. He was a fan. Super fan. He spent his
youth attending local house shows with his father,
just soaking in that visceral atmosphere. You
know the vibe. Oh, absolutely. The smell of the
popcorn, the echo of the mat slamming in a small
arena, the heat of a local crowd. He was mesmerized
by it. And he wanted to cross over that guardrail
and do it himself. And making that leap from
the grandstands to the locker room during that
era was notoriously difficult. It was basically
a closed society. Right. Completely. The business
was heavily gate -kept. Outsiders were viewed
with extreme suspicion. You couldn't just, you
needed to have trusted in. And for Cosman, that
entry point arrived in 1984, but it didn't come
from a promoter. Right. And it didn't come from
a veteran worker. It came through a wrestling
photographer named Bob Leonard. That seems like
an unconventional key to the kingdom, honestly.
How does befriending a ringside photographer
actually get you a ticket into the locker room?
Well, what's fascinating here is the unique ecosystem
of the kayfabe era. In the 1980s, protecting
the business was paramount. Right. Maintaining
the illusion at all costs. Exactly. But a photographer
like Bob Leonard was a rare exception to the
outsider rule. He was a constant fixture at ringside.
He was trusted by the boys in the back. He understood
the unwritten rules of the locker room. And most
importantly, he had the ear of the veterans.
Ah, so he had social capital. Tons of it. Leonard
vouched for Cosman. And that endorsement was
absolute gold. It earned him an introduction
to the legendary Archie Gouldy. And Gouldy takes
him on, and they don't mess around at all. Cosman
goes through six intense months of training under
him. Just brutal foundational work. It's not
glamorous. Not even a little bit. Taking bumps
into your spine aches, running the ropes until
your back is bruised, learning the mechanics
of actually calling a match in the ring. It all
leads to his 1985 debut in stampede wrestling.
But getting your foot in the door is just step
one. Once he debuted, Cosman immediately entered
his dues paying phase. Time to hit the road.
Yeah, he hits the road touring the Maritimes
with Emile Dupree's Grand Prix Wrestling. The
Maritimes tour is infamous for being an absolute
crucible. Oh, it's notorious. He's traveling
with his trainer Archie Goldie and Leo Burke
working under the early ring name Danny Young.
It is the ultimate grind. You are looking at
endless highway, driving across eastern Canada,
performing in a different small town every single
night. And we're talking about the 80s here.
Exactly. You are dealing with varying ring conditions,
navigating pure exhaustion, and learning how
to read wildly different crowds on the fly. It
forces a worker to figure out exactly who they
are in the ring. Trial by fire. Literally. He
even ventured down to the United States to work
the Texas territory for Joe Blanchard. It's that
classic territory era hustle, chasing the work,
learning different regional styles, and building
a repertoire. His roots were always in Canada
though. He eventually anchors himself back in
Stampede Wrestling for a solid five -year run.
A hometown promotion. Yeah. He's mixing it up
with guys like Cary Brown, building his reputation,
working stiff programs. He's literally living
his childhood dream, working for the very promotion
he watched as a kid with his dad. It's a great
story. It is. Until 1990, when the entire landscape
shifts. Right. Stampede Wrestling closes its
doors. The traditional territory system was collapsing
everywhere under the weight of national television
expansion. leagues were just eating up the territory.
They were and when your home promotion folds
the reality of the independent grind hits incredibly
hard. The spotlight turns off and Cosman actually
retires. Yeah. He steps away from the ring and
takes a job working as a security guard. I want
you to really sit with that psychological pivot
for a second. It's heavy. One week you are Danny
Young Working a hot program with Cary Brown in
front of screaming fans who are living and dying
by your every move, the adrenaline rush is unmatched.
You're a local superhero. Or villain. Right.
And the next week, you are standing in a quiet
hallway in a security uniform. It highlights
the profound financial and emotional precariousness
of the wrestling business. The incredibly specific
skills you master in the squared circle do not
easily translate to a standard nine to five resume.
It has to be maddening. You know the itch never
really goes away. It rarely does for the lifers.
He tried to dip his toes back in around 1995.
He partnered with a worker named Venom and they
spent three months training a new crop of guys
for the Prairie Wrestling Alliance. A noble effort
to give back. It was. But the promoter ultimately
just pulls the plug before the promotion even
gets off the ground. That's a heartbreaking indie
wrestling reality right there. Promises are made,
funding dries up, and the workers are left holding
the bag. It's tough. But a true territory guy
rarely stays away forever. By 1997, Wild West
Wrestling starts running towns in Saskatchewan,
and Cosman is drawn right back into the orbit.
Here's where it gets really interesting, because
his return sparks one of the most brilliant creative
summits I've ever heard of. It's a great moment.
It's 1997. The World Wrestling Federation is
running a house show in Regina. Cosman is backstage.
And he sits down to brainstorm a brand new persona
with the specific goal of securing a WWF tryout.
The holy grail. Right. And look at the minds
in this room. It's Cosman, his old friend Bob
Leonard, Bruce Hart and Owen Hart. That is an
incredible gathering of wrestling intellect,
just a massive amount of psychology in one room.
I can only imagine the pitches bouncing off the
walls. They recognized that pure work rate wasn't
going to turn heads in the late 90s. W. W. S.
You needed a gimmick with teeth. You needed a
character that instantly provoked a visceral
reaction from the crowd. You needed a character
that people wanted to see get beat up. Exactly.
They even pitched the resulting concept to Jim
Cornet, who was heavily involved in WWF creative
at the time. And they spent and the next couple
of years refining it. So when stampede wrestling
resurrects itself in 1999, John Cosman doesn't
just return. No, he doesn't. He walks through
the curtain as Principal Richard Pound, the tyrannical
heel leader of a faction called the Honor Roll.
As a heel gimmick. It is psychologically bulletproof.
It's brilliant. Think about the mechanics of
generating heat. A principle represents absolute,
unquestionable authority. It taps into every
fan's latent childhood resentment of arbitrary
rules and strict discipline. Everyone had that
one principle they couldn't stand. Right. So
the moment he steps out, demanding silence, scolding
the announcer or threatening detention, the crowd's
instinct is pure rebellion. It's so visceral.
It provides the baby faces with the perfect authoritarian
regime to topple. It's a master class in working
a crowd without having to take a single bump.
And the heat was immediate. The fans absolutely
despised him, which means the character was a
massive success right out of the gate. A home
run. He takes this momentum straight to the top
of the card. In November 1999, he's in Calgary
for a three way dance against Tiger Khan and
Greg Pollock. He wins, walking out as the stampede.
British Commonwealth mid -heavyweight champion.
Which is a highly significant title. Huge. He
was the first person to hold that specific belt
since Stampede had previously closed a decade
earlier. He essentially became the standard bearer
for the promotion's revival. He wasn't done collecting
hardware either. By April 2000, he's beating
Tatanka. Tatanka? Yeah, a worker with major international
TV exposure. He beats him to win the Stampede
North American Heavyweight Championship. He is
operating at his absolute peak. dripping in championship
gold. But staying at the summit indefinitely
is impossible in this business. The belts are
narrative devices and they have to move to keep
the territory fresh. The story has to keep moving.
Always. By June 2000, he drops the mid -heavyweight
title to Tiger Mahatma Khan. That one stings
particularly hard because the winner earned a
high -profile match against Sabu. Oh man. Yeah,
missing out on working with an extreme icon like
Sabu is a tough pill to swallow for any worker.
And then the North American heavyweight title
goes next. In April 2001, he loses it to Bruce
Hart. His old brainstorming partner. The very
guy who sat in that backstage room and helped
him create the principal character. That's the
poetry of the business. You build a monster together
and then you tear it down together for the fans.
It's a beautiful thing. But even as the local
titles shifted, that ambition from the 1997 brainstorm
was still burning. If we connect this to the
bigger picture, you have to admire the relentless
drive it takes to maintain your spot at the top
of a territory while constantly angling for a
look from the global leagues. He was getting
agonizingly close too. May 2001, the WWF is in
Alberta broadcasting Monday Night Raw. Cosman
is backstage mingling with guys like Wild Man
Gary Williams. Just being in that environment
is huge. He doesn't get put on TV that night,
but the networking pays off. The WWF invites
him to an official tryout match in the Tacoma
and Seattle area the very next month in June.
Securing that tryout is a massive validation
of his work. It proves he was firmly on the radar
of the largest promotion in the world. The hard
work paying off. And later that summer, in August,
his reputation earns him a spot representing
Stampede at the Brian Pillman Memorial Show in
Cincinnati. That was a hugely respected interpromotional
event. Working in front of the boys, honoring
Pillman, he wrestles an East Coast Wrestling
Association veteran, JR Ryder. Right. He doesn't
get his hand raised. But simply being booked
on that card speaks volumes. It absolutely does.
It shows that even without national TV exposure,
his peers across the industry knew exactly who
Principal Richard Pound was. He was a known entity.
He was navigating the very edge of the big time.
By early 2002, he was even negotiating a UK tour
with Wrestle Express. He was determined to keep
his momentum going, proving that a regional talent
could command international respect. And he kept
that hustle alive. well into what we might call
his twilight years in the ring. Around 2005,
he steps away from Stampede and starts taking
bookings across Western Canada. He eventually
becomes the veteran anchor for High Impact Wrestling
Canada, HIW, right back in Regina where it all
started. Returning to his hometown territory
allowed him to really lean into the kind of wild,
localized storytelling that makes independent
wrestling so deeply beloved by its die -hard
fans. You want wild storytelling. Look at what
happens in March 2006. He's booked in a two -night
program with the legendary Honky Tonk Man. That's
incredible. Night one is a tag match. Cosman
and his partner Todd Myers take the loss against
Big Daddy Cash and Honky. Sitting the stage.
Night two is the payoff singles match. Principal
Richard Pound versus the honky tonk man. A classic
old school booking. Cosman takes the loss again,
but it's the finish that makes it legendary.
He loses because of outside interference from
a heel manager. Yeah. And that manager. Tell
him. Bob Leonard. The layers of irony there are
just spectacular. Think about it. The man who
vouched for him in 1984, the man who got him
into the business, the guy sitting in the room
when they created the principal gimmick, is now
the on -screen villain executing a run -in to
cost him a marquee match 22 years later. It perfectly
illustrates the brilliant blurring of reality
in kayfabe. They leveraged a legitimate decades
-long brotherhood, twisted it into a betrayal
narrative, and gave the Regina fans an incredibly
memorable finish. That's so good. That requires
immense trust between two performers. You only
do that kind of angle with someone you consider
family. It's pure magic, and his commitment to
the region extended way beyond the ring itself.
He was everywhere. The very next month, April
2006, he travels to Memramcook, New Brunswick.
Okay. He's attending a recognition night banquet
for the Cormier Wrestling Brothers. Yeah. But
get this set up. The event also doubles as a
bluegrass music festival. Ain't Andy. A fundraiser
for the local volunteer fire department. That
is the quintessential grassroots experience right
there. Right. It highlights how deeply integrated
these workers were in their communities. It wasn't
just a gig. It was a lifestyle. You've got wrestling
veterans like Rick Martel and Emile Dupre eating
dinner to the sound of banjos to help buy fire
equipment. You simply don't get that level of
community fabric in the corporate league. No,
you don't. It is a wildly specific subculture.
He stayed in the thick of it for years, winning
the Puyallup Bones Rumble in 2009, outlasting
29 other guys in his hometown. Incredible stamina.
But the bump card eventually fills up. The physical
toll is undeniable. In October 2013, he works
his final match against a longtime rival named
King Cash. Shortly after, illness forced him
into an unexpected retirement. A forced exit
is always a bitter pill for a worker. When your
body or your health makes the decision for you,
it leaves a lot of unresolved emotion. It'd have
to be incredibly tough to process. But the industry
makes sure he got his flowers while he was still
around to appreciate them. In 2014, the Cauliflower
Alley Club which is a highly prestigious fraternal
organization for wrestlers, honored him with
their Men's Wrestling Award. A huge honor from
his peers. And in October 2015, HIW officially
inducted him into their Hall of Fame at the Monster
Brawl event in Regina. And his inductor, Bob
Leonard. Wow. Bringing the entire journey completely
full circle. It's incredibly poetic. John Cosman
sadly passed away a year later on November 28th,
2016, at just 52 years old. Far too young. Far
too young. So what does this all mean? When you
look at the journey from a fan in the Regina
grandstands to the despised principal Richard
Pound, it's a testament to unyielding dedication.
I want you to really think about the passion
it takes to grind in that regional circuit. It
takes a special kind of person. the humility
to take those first agonizing bumps in freezing
maritime arenas, the quiet resilience to put
on a security uniform when the promotion folds,
keeping the fire alive in the dark, and the sheer
creative genius to sit down with your friends
and reinvent yourself into a character that makes
people buy a ticket just to yell at you. Success
in this business isn't exclusively measured by
WrestleMania main events or global merchandising
deals. Sometimes true success is becoming the
absolute undisputed pillar of your own territory.
I completely agree. John Cosman was a champion,
a locker room leader, and a hometown legend who
kept the local scene breathing for decades. And
this raises an important question for you to
consider as we wrap up today's deep dive. Lay
it on us. Think about the entertainment, the
arts, or the industries you consume daily. We
always celebrate the billionaires and the megastars
at the very top. But how much of that massive
industry's foundation is actually built on the
backs of thousands of local dedicated principal
Richard Pounds, the unsung regional heroes who
keep the art form alive in their hometowns when
the cameras aren't rolling. That is a fascinating
thread to pull on. It really makes you appreciate
the local guys in every field. Exactly. We want
to thank you so much for joining us to explore.
the incredible life and legacy of John Cosman.
We hope you enjoyed this journey through the
trenches of the squared circle. Thanks for listening.
Until next time, keep digging deeper and we'll
catch you on the next deep dive.