Some childhood dreams fade quietly.
The Dream Never Left: How Referee Mike Charles Found Memphis Wrestling—and Shared It With His Son
They get buried beneath jobs, bills, responsibilities and the unspoken belief that a person eventually has to “grow up” and leave certain things behind. For Michael Brewer, wrestling could have been one of those dreams—a Saturday-morning memory from a different era, filed away with cartoons, action figures and the innocence of being 10 years old.
Instead, the dream waited. Today, at 47 years old, Brewer is living it as Referee Mike Charles in Memphis Wrestling. He is not just watching the stories unfold from a living room couch or talking about the glory days with other longtime fans. He is stepping inside the ring, helping bring the show to life in the same city where he first fell in love with professional wrestling.
And on television taping Sundays, he gets to experience it with his son, Jake.
That is the part that makes this more than a wrestling story. It is a story about a father, a son and a dream that refused to disappear.
A Six-Year-Old Found His World
Before Michael Brewer knew Hulk Hogan. Before he knew the WWF. Before wrestling became a national phenomenon that turned larger-than-life performers into childhood heroes, he had Memphis wrestling. He credits his older sister with opening the door.
“I will always credit my older sister for first getting me hooked on this business,” Brewer said.
It started in the mid-1980s, when a young Michael would spend Friday nights at his sister’s house. The next morning, after the cartoons, there was another appointment that mattered just as much: Channel 5 wrestling at 11 a.m.
“I can remember spending Friday nights at my sister’s house when I was five or six years old,” Brewer said. “This was around 1984-85. I would wake up Saturday mornings, and after the usual Saturday cartoons, she always had Channel 5 wrestling on at 11 a.m.”
For a kid, it was perfect. The personalities were loud. The arguments were dramatic. The characters were colorful. Somebody always seemed angry, somebody always had a microphone and, eventually, somebody had to get into the ring and settle it.
“What more could a six-year-old boy ask for?” Brewer said.
In the middle of all that chaos were two familiar voices: Lance Russell and Dave Brown. They brought order to the madness, telling viewers what mattered while the wrestlers did everything possible to make the moment bigger, louder and more unforgettable.
Then came Hulk Hogan and the WWF—a national boom that felt as if it had been created specifically for kids like Brewer.
“When I discovered Hulk Hogan and the WWF in an era that was tailor made for kids like me? Forget about it,” he said. “Hooked for life.”
Forty years later, that feeling remains. Brewer admits there were times when being a wrestling fan was not always easy. Every fan has seasons when the product does not connect the same way. But the thing that kept him coming back was never just a favorite wrestler or a particular promotion.
It was the story. A good guy. A bad guy. A grudge. A fight. A villain willing to do anything to avoid losing. A hero trying to overcome it. And the promise that, no matter what happened today, there would always be another chapter next week.
“It’s kept me tuned in for 40 years,” Brewer said. “When it’s done correctly, there’s nothing better.”
The Dream He Thought Had Passed Him By
For Brewer, Memphis Wrestling is not just another stop on wrestling’s map. It is home.
“It’s cliche to say it means everything, but it means everything,” he said.
Born and raised in Memphis, Brewer carries the rare perspective of someone who watched the territory era as a fan and now gets to help carry that tradition forward. He understands the history attached to the name. He understands the memories people have of gathering around televisions to watch wrestling in the same city that shaped his childhood.
“As a wrestling fan, I consider myself the luckiest person in the world to have been born and raised in Memphis, Tennessee,” Brewer said. “I’m completely aware of the history that we are connected to and carrying on.”
But he is not stuck looking backward. Brewer sees the young talent at Memphis Wrestling training, putting in the work and trying to find the characters, confidence and identity that could define their own careers. He sees people chasing the same kind of dream he once carried.
“As many great memories as I have from those days, let me tell you that the young talent we have on this current roster is incredible,” Brewer said. “I love going to training and watching these young people putting in the work, learning this craft, and figuring out who they are and who they want to be.” The difference is that Brewer had convinced himself his own chance was gone.
For years, he loved wrestling from the outside. He followed it, watched it and imagined what it might have been like to be part of it. But by 47, he had made peace with the possibility that it was a dream meant only for the younger version of himself.
“Actually being involved in the business was something I had always dreamed of, but I never felt that the opportunity would come my way,” Brewer said. “Being 47 years old, I had accepted that that dream had long since passed me by.”
Then Memphis Wrestling asked whether he would be interested in refereeing. He did not hesitate.
“But the opportunity presented itself, and I didn’t think twice about it,” Brewer said. “Grateful isn’t a strong enough word to describe how I feel about being given this opportunity at this stage in my life.”
That is the reminder in Brewer’s journey: You do not always get to decide when a dream is over. Sometimes, the opportunity arrives after you have stopped looking for it.
Sundays With His Son
The story became even bigger when Brewer realized he would not be walking into Memphis Wrestling alone. His son Jake had already found a place within the promotion through his work with Dustin Starr at Memphis Redbirds games. Jake became the kind of dependable, flexible presence every live production needs—the person who can take on whatever role the show requires.
“Jake is a bit of a utility man for the promotion,” Brewer said. “He serves as backstage interviewer, ring announcer when needed, and color commentator when needed. He also helps with promos, along with whatever else is needed.” Now, father and son share the same wrestling world.
One works in the ring, enforcing the action as Referee Mike Charles. The other helps create the story around it through interviews, ring announcements, commentary and promotional work. Their jobs are different, but they are part of the same controlled chaos—the kind of chaos Brewer loved when he was six years old.
“TV taping Sundays have quickly become my favorite days,” Brewer said. “It is complete chaos at the WrestleCenter, and it’s the best kind of chaos. Everybody has their roles and they all work so hard to entertain these fans and put on the absolute best show.”
For Brewer, the value is not limited to the time they spend together. It is not only about the memories being created. It is not only about seeing wrestling through Jake’s eyes. It is all of it.
If Brewer could travel back to 1990 and sit beside the 10-year-old boy watching USWA and WWF Wrestling Challenge on a Saturday morning, he would tell him to keep believing. He would tell him to keep watching. He would tell him not to listen to classmates who laughed at the kid who watched “that fake stuff.” But he would not tell him the whole story.
“Would I tell him that a day would come when he would get to step inside the ring and become a part of all of this?” Brewer said. “Probably not. I’d let him keep dreaming.”
Because some dreams are better when you do not know how they end. The six-year-old watching Channel 5 wrestling could not have imagined that he would one day step between the ropes. The 10-year-old who loved USWA and WWF could not have imagined that the chance would come at 47. And he certainly could not have imagined that his son would be there, helping him live it.
“I will never take a moment of this for granted,” Brewer said.
That may be the most powerful part of the story. Michael Brewer did not outgrow wrestling. He grew into it.
