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jswift@student.highlands.edu

January 21, 2008

 

I believe it was several years ago that Joey Styles preceded to cut a highly charged worked promo about his then current disdain of the so-called sports-entertainment administration on an episode of Monday Night Raw. It was a very effective demonstration, because the viewer knew that everything he said during that spirited soliloquy was of genuine sentiment. It was the proverbial wrestling equivalent of Luther nailing the note to the door of the cathedral, an act of defiance that was to radiate throughout the industry as a universal wake-up call that things needed to change, and change drastically for the business to survive.

Of course, that never came to fruition. It seems as if every day, be it on a mainstream site such as this or in a minute post on some unseemly forum, some fan posts a statement about “never watching wrestling again”. This is usually met with a chorus of ennui and superfluous Internet schism, complete with all of the blatant, post-ironic semblance of disillusionment and disenfranchisement that one comes to expect from this collection of ne’er-do-wells known as the Internet Wrestling Community.

This is one of those tracts.

It is incredibly hard to pinpoint an exact “breaking point” in my disinterest in the world of wrestling. Granted, what was once a grade school obsession is subject to wane over the years, regardless, but as of late, something incredibly different has taken hold of me, a paradigm shift, if you will.

It has come to my realization that with the death of my interest in professional wrestling, so dies my semblance of childhood. It’s a thought that many people, especially those of you reading this on a “smart” site, will brush off with a sense of personal refute. The world of professional wrestling is very much a world as viewed through the eyes of adolescent splendor, a fantasy land in which there are no gray areas and all disputes are finalized with displays of heroic triumph. It tends to permeate in other areas of the common fan’s life, and regardless of one’s own personal “success” in the “real world”, that sense of childlike wonderment is prevalent throughout.

It always amazed me just how much “smart fans” were alike. Moderately educated, medium income, and financial and social status that fell somewhere in between the aggregate of the American population. Some had wives, some had children, some had careers and steady finances. They would spend a large amount of their disposable income on things like plasma screen televisions, and had near-obsessive fancies of things such as film, literature, music and other facets of popular entertainment. They also seemed to live in a perennial present state, with no actualization of a future and planned out progress.

Long story short, they spent money as if they were fourteen year olds with astronomical allowances. This isn’t a stereotype or a mass generalization. This is essentially a person by person account of the mindset of the “smart fan”. Social security, a stable financial outlook, career employment, savings accounts, retirement plans, life insurance, health insurance, securing solid education…I guarantee you that you won’t find a discussion of any of these things on any wrestling forum, or in the backstage of any wrestling show, or in the stands at a TV taping.

The entire wresting dynamic, from the low-level casual fan, to the eight year old base, to the twenty year old Internet savvy wannabe journalist to the actual performers themselves, are all stuck in that immature vacuum, a glorious, quasi-ignorant world in which the true fiscal and social priorities of a “successful life” are tossed aside for the pursuits of the current day.

In wrestling, nobody plans ahead, and that’s why there’s one less wrestling fan on the planet today.

A respected mentor of mine recently made an incredibly simple, albeit amazingly profound statement about the human condition: For one to succeed, all he has to do is pay attention. The failures have no idea that they are so, because they don’t pay heed at all. If one is aware if his or her current failure, he or she is on the path to “success”. The ones that don’t admit to failing will do so until their dying day.

Admittedly, I was failing at life, and the wrestling-journalism dynamic had a large deal to with that. I was immature, and caught up in the whirlwind of meandering pursuits while my bank account dissolved before my own eyes. I was oblivious to the albatross of defeat, and to this day, I am paying the price.

Most people involved with wrestling never come to understand this. How many wrestlers can one name off the top of their heads that retired in good condition, either financially or physically? Where are the big money makers of the territorial days, the guys that were making heaps of money during the heyday of the rock and wrestling regime now? They’re either dead, poor, or poor wishing they were dead.

Once again, this isn’t a cliché. This is a person by person account.

Realizing things of this nature is incredibly hard, and many of you will absolutely hate my guts for this, but why do you? Is it because deep down, you feel that bubbling sensation of insecurity welling up? Is it because the industry you pursued is inherently a cycle of failure, a defeatist food chain in which the only guarantees are detriments?

Wrestling is a sinking ship, and there’s no solving this problem. The only viable alternative is to grab a lifeboat and start paddling. Or, you can refuse to address the tear in the hull and drown with the vessel. Your call.

Whom does one blame for the state of our industry? Do we blame the owners, the McMahons and Jarretts of the world, whom financially domineer the landscape? Do we blame the social stigma, and the immaturity of the industry’s nature, a culture that throws common sense out the window and embraces a self destructive lifestyle? Do we blame the drugs, the chair shots?

There’s only one place to point the finger of blame for the industry’s downfall, and that’s on us, the fans.

We buy into the garbage. We purchase the videos, we buy the pay per views, we debate about the culture in the forums. We pride ourselves on being smart and knowledgeable regarding the inner workings of the industry. We make fun of the forty year old fans in the stands and their naïve seven year old son in his John Cena regalia and the college fund he obviously doesn’t have. By staying the course, we’re saying to the industry that things are okay. Whining about things isn’t going to solve the problem. The only way to truly destroy the culture is to abandon it all together.

We mourn the death of Guerrero and the Benoit family, debating the faults of the industry and the need for change, but wrap ourselves in the aura of an industry that literally oils itself on the blood of performers. We put money into the cycle, the higher ups say things are fine and dandy, and the cycle of despair and futility continues.

I will never watch another wrestling show ever again. I will never frequent a wrestling site ever again. I will never purchase another piece of wrestling related paraphernalia ever again. The word has been erased from my vocabulary, and the only thing I regret is the notion that if I would’ve drawn out of this inherently destructive cycle earlier, a few lives would’ve been saved.