WASHINGTON — The nation’s capital has its share of menacing lobbyists — power players whose mere presence is enough to command the respect, even the fear, of the establishment.
But in the annals of strong-arm politicking, no one cuts as intimidating a figure as a man by the name of Bill Goldberg, who made his debut on Capitol Hill this month.
Known simply as Goldberg to his fans, the World Championship Wrestling star packs a persuasive argument for just about anything into his 6-foot-4, 285-pound frame.
Making the rounds with lobbyists for the Humane Society of the United States, he came to defend animal rights and specifically to push for an end to cockfighting and other forms of animal blood sport.
Lawmakers would be well advised to pay heed: This is Goldberg, the head-shaven, tattooed flag-bearer of professional wrestling, and by all accounts, the most burly, fearsome Jew in professional sports today.
He catapulted to the top of the wrestling world last summer by defeating “Hollywood” Hulk Hogan for WCW’s heavyweight championship title. Although he recently lost his championship title, the 31-year-old Goldberg is still the rage among millions of Americans with an appreciation for violent theater — and one of the biggest reasons why WCW’s “Monday Nitro” has become one of the most widely watched television shows in the country.
His fame has spawned a complete line of products, including what is believed to be the world’s first Jewish action figure.
The phenomenon was on display on Capitol Hill in early February as an overflow throng packed into a Senate briefing room to catch a glimpse of the absurdly large man stuffed into a black pinstripe suit. Congressional staffers, interns, pages, local fans and a wide-eyed contingent of visiting high school students formed a ring around the wrestling star.
Despite being out of his element, Goldberg pulled off his first foray into politics with aplomb. His message was simple.
“When I step into the ring, that’s my choice. But these animals, they have no choice. It’s sick,” he said, throwing his weight behind a bill that would make it a felony to transport fighting roosters across state lines.
He worked the crowd with grace and patience, signing every last autograph, posing for every last photo, ruffling the hair of every last young fan.
A senator even approached him, saying: “I don’t know who you are, but I was told I had to get a picture with you.”
Goldberg is not, however, exactly what you would call a normal Jew. And that’s part of his appeal to Jewish fans. Not only has he bucked Jewish stereotypes — he has turned the notion of Jew as victim on its head.
“I wanted to give the Jewish public someone to hold onto,” Goldberg said, “someone as a positive role model that didn’t go out and cuss, didn’t go out and cheat, someone to look up to.”
As one devoted Jewish follower of pro-wrestling, 27-year-old Lou Kipilman of Corte Madera put it: “He’s a proud Jew, a righteous kicker of goyim tuchas and a shooting star who’s beloved by every stripe of wrestling fan.”
As for his future, the natural question arises following his political debut: Is Goldberg looking to become the next Jesse Ventura?
Ventura, a former pro-wrestler, is Minnesota’s new governor.
“Nah,” Goldberg demurred. “I’m here for a specific purpose. That and that only. I’m not here to do anything else than lend my time and heart to this cause.”