The wrestling world woke up to heartbreaking news in 2025: Sabu, the man who made hardcore wrestling a global phenomenon, has passed away at 60. Born Terry Michael Brunk on December 12, 1964, in Detroit, Michigan, Sabu left us shortly after stepping into the ring for what would be his final match. A simple, haunting tribute image—his name in bold, with the years "1964–2025" beneath—has been shared across the internet, breaking the hearts of fans who grew up watching him risk it all. I can still remember the first time I saw him dive through a table, and I know I’m not alone in feeling this loss deeply. Let’s take a moment to look back on the life of a true legend, a man who bled for this sport and changed it forever.
Growing Up in the Shadow of a Legend
Sabu didn’t just stumble into wrestling—he was born into it. His uncle, Ed Farhat, better known as The Sheik, was a hardcore wrestling pioneer back in the ‘60s and ‘70s. If you’ve ever seen grainy footage of The Sheik carving up opponents with a fork, you know the kind of brutal legacy Sabu grew up around. As a kid, Terry Brunk soaked it all in, training under his uncle and stepping into the ring for the first time in 1985 at Big Time Wrestling, a small promotion in Michigan run by The Sheik. Even back then, you could tell he was different. He wasn’t just wrestling—he was putting on a show, taking risks that made the crowd gasp.
He took the name Sabu, inspired by an old adventure flick called The Thief of Bagdad, and built a character that felt like it came straight out of a desert epic. With his keffiyeh headscarf, pointed boots, and that intense, silent stare, he looked like a warrior from another time. But it wasn’t just the look that hooked you—it was what he did in the ring. He’d leap off chairs, crash through tables, and take bumps that made you wince. That was Sabu: always willing to go further than anyone else.
Finding His Place in Japan’s Hardcore Scene
By the early ‘90s, Sabu found a home in Japan with Frontier Martial-Arts Wrestling (FMW), a promotion that was all about pushing the limits. FMW was wild—think barbed wire ropes, exploding rings, and matches that looked more like street fights than wrestling. It was the perfect place for Sabu to shine. He became a star there, taking on opponents in matches so brutal you couldn’t look away. I remember hearing stories about him in FMW, like the time he tore his bicep on barbed wire, grabbed some athletic tape, wrapped it up right there in the ring, and kept going. That’s the kind of guy he was—nothing could stop him.
In Japan, he started perfecting the moves that would define his career. The Arabian Facebuster, where he’d set a chair on your face before dropping you on it, was pure Sabu: creative, dangerous, and unforgettable. Then there was the Air Sabu, a springboard dive off a chair that made it look like he was flying. Fans started calling him the "Houdini of Hardcore" because he always found a way to escape the impossible—and make it look good doing it.
ECW: Where Sabu Became a Household Name
Sabu’s big break came in 1993 when he joined Extreme Championship Wrestling (ECW). If you were a wrestling fan in the ‘90s, you know ECW was the place to be—it was raw, rebellious, and unlike anything on TV. Sabu fit right in. Under Paul Heyman’s direction, he became the face of ECW’s hardcore movement, taking on legends like Terry Funk and Taz in matches that still get talked about today. He won the ECW World Heavyweight Championship twice, first in 1993 after a wild three-way match against Shane Douglas and 2 Cold Scorpio. That win felt like a coronation—Sabu wasn’t just a wrestler; he was the king of extreme.
I’ll never forget watching him at ECW’s first pay-per-view, Barely Legal, in 1997. He was up against Taz, and at one point, he did a moonsault through a table outside the ring. The crowd lost it. Even though he didn’t win that night, it didn’t matter—Sabu was the guy you couldn’t take your eyes off. He lived the hardcore life, too. Stories floated around about him sleeping in his car between shows, wrestling with broken ribs, and never complaining. That’s what made him so real to us fans. He wasn’t playing a character—he was living it.
Big Leagues and Back Again
Sabu’s talent caught the eye of the bigger promotions, and he had a short stint in World Championship Wrestling (WCW) in the mid-‘90s. He brought his hardcore style with him, feuding with guys like The Public Enemy, but it didn’t last. WCW wasn’t ready for someone like Sabu—they wanted flash, not blood. So he went back to ECW, where he belonged. Later, in 2006, he got a shot in World Wrestling Entertainment (WWE) with their rebooted ECW brand. I was so excited to see him on the big stage, but it wasn’t the same. WWE toned down the violence, and you could tell Sabu wasn’t happy. He had some great moments, like a ladder match against Big Show, but by 2007, he was gone, back to the independents where he could wrestle his way.
Even in his 50s, Sabu didn’t slow down. He wrestled all over the world, from Total Nonstop Action Wrestling (TNA) to tiny indie shows in front of a few hundred fans. He was still doing the same crazy moves—moonsaults, chair shots, the works. I remember seeing a clip of him diving through a table in 2020 and thinking, “Man, he’s gotta stop before he really hurts himself.” But that was Sabu. He didn’t know how to stop.
The Final Bow
We don’t know all the details yet, but Sabu’s last match happened at an indie show in 2025. From what people are saying, he went out there and gave it everything, just like always. He did his high-flying spots, took his bumps, and left the crowd on their feet. But after the match, something happened. Sabu passed away, leaving the wrestling world in shock. We don’t know the exact cause yet, but you can’t help but think about the toll those decades of hardcore matches took on him. He broke his body for this sport, and in the end, he gave it one last piece of himself.
It’s hard not to see the poetry in it—Sabu going out after one final match, doing what he loved most. But it’s also gut-wrenching. He was only 60. He should’ve had more time to sit back, tell stories about the old days, and soak in the love from fans. Instead, he left us with that haunting tribute image: "In Memory of Sabu 1964–2025."
The Man Who Changed Wrestling
Sabu didn’t just wrestle—he changed the game. He made hardcore wrestling mainstream, paving the way for guys like Mick Foley and Jeff Hardy to take it even further. Wrestlers today, the ones doing flips and crashing through tables, owe a lot to Sabu. He showed them it was possible to mix high-flying moves with hardcore grit and still tell a story in the ring. But more than that, he showed us what it means to be real. Sabu didn’t care about the spotlight or the money—he cared about the fans and the craft. He turned down big contracts if it meant compromising his style, and that’s something you don’t see much anymore.
Saying Goodbye
The tributes have been pouring in since the news broke. Rob Van Dam, who teamed with Sabu in some of ECW’s best matches, wrote, “We bled together, fought together, and changed the game together. Rest easy, brother.” Paul Heyman called him “the heart of extreme,” and I couldn’t agree more. Fans like me have been sharing our favorite Sabu moments online—mine’s still that Barely Legal moonsault. We’re all grieving in our own way, but we’re also celebrating a life that gave us so much.
Growing Up in the Shadow of a Legend
Sabu didn’t just stumble into wrestling—he was born into it. His uncle, Ed Farhat, better known as The Sheik, was a hardcore wrestling pioneer back in the ‘60s and ‘70s. If you’ve ever seen grainy footage of The Sheik carving up opponents with a fork, you know the kind of brutal legacy Sabu grew up around. As a kid, Terry Brunk soaked it all in, training under his uncle and stepping into the ring for the first time in 1985 at Big Time Wrestling, a small promotion in Michigan run by The Sheik. Even back then, you could tell he was different. He wasn’t just wrestling—he was putting on a show, taking risks that made the crowd gasp.
He took the name Sabu, inspired by an old adventure flick called The Thief of Bagdad, and built a character that felt like it came straight out of a desert epic. With his keffiyeh headscarf, pointed boots, and that intense, silent stare, he looked like a warrior from another time. But it wasn’t just the look that hooked you—it was what he did in the ring. He’d leap off chairs, crash through tables, and take bumps that made you wince. That was Sabu: always willing to go further than anyone else.
Finding His Place in Japan’s Hardcore Scene
By the early ‘90s, Sabu found a home in Japan with Frontier Martial-Arts Wrestling (FMW), a promotion that was all about pushing the limits. FMW was wild—think barbed wire ropes, exploding rings, and matches that looked more like street fights than wrestling. It was the perfect place for Sabu to shine. He became a star there, taking on opponents in matches so brutal you couldn’t look away. I remember hearing stories about him in FMW, like the time he tore his bicep on barbed wire, grabbed some athletic tape, wrapped it up right there in the ring, and kept going. That’s the kind of guy he was—nothing could stop him.
In Japan, he started perfecting the moves that would define his career. The Arabian Facebuster, where he’d set a chair on your face before dropping you on it, was pure Sabu: creative, dangerous, and unforgettable. Then there was the Air Sabu, a springboard dive off a chair that made it look like he was flying. Fans started calling him the "Houdini of Hardcore" because he always found a way to escape the impossible—and make it look good doing it.
ECW: Where Sabu Became a Household Name
Sabu’s big break came in 1993 when he joined Extreme Championship Wrestling (ECW). If you were a wrestling fan in the ‘90s, you know ECW was the place to be—it was raw, rebellious, and unlike anything on TV. Sabu fit right in. Under Paul Heyman’s direction, he became the face of ECW’s hardcore movement, taking on legends like Terry Funk and Taz in matches that still get talked about today. He won the ECW World Heavyweight Championship twice, first in 1993 after a wild three-way match against Shane Douglas and 2 Cold Scorpio. That win felt like a coronation—Sabu wasn’t just a wrestler; he was the king of extreme.
I’ll never forget watching him at ECW’s first pay-per-view, Barely Legal, in 1997. He was up against Taz, and at one point, he did a moonsault through a table outside the ring. The crowd lost it. Even though he didn’t win that night, it didn’t matter—Sabu was the guy you couldn’t take your eyes off. He lived the hardcore life, too. Stories floated around about him sleeping in his car between shows, wrestling with broken ribs, and never complaining. That’s what made him so real to us fans. He wasn’t playing a character—he was living it.
Big Leagues and Back Again
Sabu’s talent caught the eye of the bigger promotions, and he had a short stint in World Championship Wrestling (WCW) in the mid-‘90s. He brought his hardcore style with him, feuding with guys like The Public Enemy, but it didn’t last. WCW wasn’t ready for someone like Sabu—they wanted flash, not blood. So he went back to ECW, where he belonged. Later, in 2006, he got a shot in World Wrestling Entertainment (WWE) with their rebooted ECW brand. I was so excited to see him on the big stage, but it wasn’t the same. WWE toned down the violence, and you could tell Sabu wasn’t happy. He had some great moments, like a ladder match against Big Show, but by 2007, he was gone, back to the independents where he could wrestle his way.
Even in his 50s, Sabu didn’t slow down. He wrestled all over the world, from Total Nonstop Action Wrestling (TNA) to tiny indie shows in front of a few hundred fans. He was still doing the same crazy moves—moonsaults, chair shots, the works. I remember seeing a clip of him diving through a table in 2020 and thinking, “Man, he’s gotta stop before he really hurts himself.” But that was Sabu. He didn’t know how to stop.
The Final Bow
We don’t know all the details yet, but Sabu’s last match happened at an indie show in 2025. From what people are saying, he went out there and gave it everything, just like always. He did his high-flying spots, took his bumps, and left the crowd on their feet. But after the match, something happened. Sabu passed away, leaving the wrestling world in shock. We don’t know the exact cause yet, but you can’t help but think about the toll those decades of hardcore matches took on him. He broke his body for this sport, and in the end, he gave it one last piece of himself.
It’s hard not to see the poetry in it—Sabu going out after one final match, doing what he loved most. But it’s also gut-wrenching. He was only 60. He should’ve had more time to sit back, tell stories about the old days, and soak in the love from fans. Instead, he left us with that haunting tribute image: "In Memory of Sabu 1964–2025."
The Man Who Changed Wrestling
Sabu didn’t just wrestle—he changed the game. He made hardcore wrestling mainstream, paving the way for guys like Mick Foley and Jeff Hardy to take it even further. Wrestlers today, the ones doing flips and crashing through tables, owe a lot to Sabu. He showed them it was possible to mix high-flying moves with hardcore grit and still tell a story in the ring. But more than that, he showed us what it means to be real. Sabu didn’t care about the spotlight or the money—he cared about the fans and the craft. He turned down big contracts if it meant compromising his style, and that’s something you don’t see much anymore.
Saying Goodbye
The tributes have been pouring in since the news broke. Rob Van Dam, who teamed with Sabu in some of ECW’s best matches, wrote, “We bled together, fought together, and changed the game together. Rest easy, brother.” Paul Heyman called him “the heart of extreme,” and I couldn’t agree more. Fans like me have been sharing our favorite Sabu moments online—mine’s still that Barely Legal moonsault. We’re all grieving in our own way, but we’re also celebrating a life that gave us so much.
