Recently I was afforded the
opportunity to fulfill a childhood desire of mine—attend a professional
wrestling show. It was great and succeeded my expectations. Usually sporting
events of all types are better witnessed in the stadium/arena that they take
place in; even if they’re viewed from the nosebleed seats.
Over my lifetime I’ve had the pleasure of attending a few professional and
collegiate football, baseball, and basketball games as well as a tennis match
that featured the Williams sisters facing one another in the finals of the U.S.
Open. I even went and saw a MMA show recently. However, even though some view
professional wrestling as a sport—and it does take a certain degree of athletic
ability to be such a wrestler—the open secret is that these events are shows in
every sense of the word. Thus, the term professional better describes the
amount of acting that takes place rather than the degree of their athletic
prowess. Don’t get me wrong; a lot of these guys (and gals) are in phenomenal
physical shape. How else can one bounce up and down from turnbuckles and
against ropes upon fellow human giants and folding tables night after night
with nothing more than a pair of Speedos or Spandex pants all while maintaining
a muscular physique? Then there are others that aren’t so much in
great shape as they are just beneficiaries of working in a profession that
their abnormal sizes fit into. Despite the amount of athleticism these
individuals possess, we all know and clearly understand that the outcomes of
these matches are essentially contrived.
With this in mind, one can easily
understand the need for the over-the-top characters, stereotypes, scripted
melodrama, buffoonish costumes, energetic entrance music, sexually charged
innuendoes, and massive amounts of aggressive marketing that surrounds the
actual wrestling matches. Without such, these events would just be a monotonous
cavalcade of contests involving two or more oversized sweaty
testosterone-driven ex-football jocks prancing around a squared mat. Rivalries must be invented. Good guys (“faces”) need
to be pitted against bad guys (“heels”). Colors, logos, symbols, attitudes,
hair styles, garb, songs, flags, weapons and trash talk are all carefully mixed
together and choreographed through these various wrestlers. These ingredients
serve to create a fictitious world where grudges are dealt with through faux
fights fueled from false bravado.
This collection of flamboyant and
seemingly crazed men appeal to the primitive warrior spirits that have long ago
been buried deep within most men through decades and centuries of forced
conformity and assembly-line lifestyles. Living such an existence has forced us
into cookie cutter houses, paper-doll families, and decaffeinated lives. These
creatures of wild imaginations and equally fictional destinies are an outlet to
the unchecked rage and imprisoned creativity that modern civilized society has
silenced through the demonizing of hyper-masculinity. This is in large part because
there no longer exists a need for the hunter-gatherer or the vigilant protector
of the home front. All hunting and gathering is done at the local grocery
store and home security systems coupled with lethargic police departments are
tasked with defending our domiciles. For a brief moment, these people watching
men (and sometimes women) engage in pseudo hand-to-hand combat dressed in
warrior gear, are allowed to temporarily escape the normal confines of verbal
and legal conflict resolution; all while pretending they are witnessing true,
primal conflict play itself out under fluorescent lights and TV cameras with
the added element of raucous cheering.
As I sat there taking in the sights
and sounds of my seat in the arena, I not only watched the numerous matches
taking place. I also studied the make-up of the crowd in my immediate area. I
sat in back of an entire family of Mexican immigrants. Of course professional
wrestling is big in that country as well, where it is referred to as “lucha
libre.” The Jack Black comedy film, Nacho
Libre attests to this. Usually the Mexican “luchadores” are hidden behind
colorful and sparkly masks. Such characters are often found "competing"
in American based professional wrestling organizations of the past and present
like the WWF/WWE and the WCW. Examples are the well-known wrestlers, Rey
Mysterio and Sin Cara. Everyone from this family enjoyed the matches and
maybe it served as a small taste of home.
To my right were a father and his
two sons. The father was around my age and neither of us was too familiar with
most of the combatants in the ring. However, his two sons knew plenty about
each and every character that strutted into the “squared circle.” So, from time
to time we would briefly reminisce about the old-school wrestlers we grew up
watching like the late Macho Man Randy Savage, the late Junkyard Dog, the late
Andre The Giant, others like Sgt. Slaughter, The Iron Sheik, and of course Hulk
Hogan. It goes without saying that, as every guy gets older, we opine that the
wrestlers we spent hours watching on television as kids were the greatest ever
and that that particular era would never be recaptured. Ask any old guy such
questions and he’ll swear the same—whether it’s sports, music, movies, or
fashion.
On my left were the most interesting
couple of gentlemen I noticed that night. It seemed to me to be a father and
son. Both men would be considered elderly. The younger was clearly late 50’s to
early 60’s. Presumably, his father, was late 70’s to early 80’s. Sadly upon the
latter, one of his eyes was damaged to the point of blindness and he didn’t say
much. Nonetheless, small moments of joy flashed upon his snow-white-bearded
face from time to time as his son yelled and screamed excitedly in response to
the action in the ring. I shared bits of conversation with the younger as well.
We also discussed the "good ole days" of wrestling. Of course he
could remember many other wrestlers before my time like The "Nature
Boy" Rick Flair, The Superstar Billy Graham, Gorilla Monsoon, and Bruno Sammartino. Of all the people I could see in my immediate circle, this
middle-aged man was the most energetic. It was sort of sweet and nostalgic to
witness he and his father sitting together watching a live wrestling match. I imaged how many hundreds (if not thousands) of such moments they
both shared over their decades on Earth. It was beautiful to see a father and
son still next to one another enjoying a shared passion--even if that passion
was as scripted as a daytime soap opera.
As I continued to examine this
occurrence unfold, I was struck by how seriously some of these people took the
matches. Especially the adults. I was like many kids growing up in the 1980's
and '90's who idolized Hulk Hogan, The Ultimate Warrior, and Koko B. Ware. I
thought it was all real. I bought wholeheartedly into the good versus evil
matchups like the patriotic Sgt. Slaughter waving the American flag against the
wrestlers who opposed the "free world" such as Russia's Nikolai Volkoff and Iran's The Iron Sheik. I remember
the very first WrestleMania when the main event featured Hulk
Hogan and Mr. T against the team of Roddy Piper and Paul
Orndorff,. I hated
the annoying managers such as "The Mouth of the South" Jimmy Hart and Bobby
"The Brain" Heenan. And nothing got me more hyped up like a Hulk
Hogan promo where "Mean Gene" Okerlund simply held the microphone in
front of Hogan as he proceeded to go on a tirade that always began with,
"You know what Mean Gene..." and was punctuated by words and phrases
like "brother", "thousands of screaming little
Hulkamaniacs", "do your training, eat your vitamins, and say your prayers", and
always ended with the catchphrase, "What ya gonna do, when all of
Hulkamania runs wild on you?!?!" This stuff was as much a part of my
childhood as Saturday morning cartoons and episodes of The A-Team.
But it was during my time in high
school that an epiphany of sorts occurred. I remember it so clearly. I was
sitting in the living room watching a wrestling match and suddenly it's like my
eyes were reopened. The moves being performed in the ring now looked very fake.
The timing appeared to be really off. On top of that I started wondering about
the lack of blood and bruising when the wrestlers were hit repeatedly in the
face. I also began to question how at certain times the characters would
miraculously become reenergized after seemingly being beaten severely. As I
examined the match more closely, the light of knowledge went off and I was suddenly
disappointed. After all the years of believing in professional wrestling's authenticity,
to have my unblemished image of it brutally crushed like this was low blow of
sorts.
From that point on, instead of being
entertained by such television, I was annoyed and disenchanted by it. It would
be many years before I would sit and watch professional wrestling again. All
that time when my stepfather would yell that wrestling was phony, I would shrug
him off as simply a person who didn't appreciate it. I would never believe
wrestling was anything but real. But at that moment during my adolescence, it
was like a child discovering that Santa Claus, The Easter Bunny, and The Tooth
Fairly were all hoaxes--simultaneously. So, even though I occasionally viewed
an episode or two years later when The Rock would show up on Monday nights, I
looked at it solely for its comedic value and nothing more. The emotional
connection to certain wrestlers or hopes of specific outcomes of the matches no
longer existed. My only interest extended no further than amount of hilarious buffoonery
that was provided by some of these Spandex swaddled brutes.
Therefore, as I relaxed in my
plastic folding theater seat in the arena that night, I could not understand
why anyone but the children took this crap seriously. I was there just to check
something off the list of things I never did as a kid (the others are attending
a rodeo, a monster truck rally, and visiting Yellowstone National Park).
Truthfully, the adults were more involved than the youngsters. But why? Is it
that our grown up lives are so mundane and predictable that we'll pay money to
pretend this stuff is real for a while as an opportunity to escape the norms
and miseries that await us at home and work? Did the dreams and aspirations of
childhood dissolve magically within the acid of the realities of adulthood where
we've accepted our sad lots in life to a degree that we look forward to small
short-lived thrills like imaginary conflict? Do we somehow yearn to live
vicariously through these loud, muscle-bound caricatures and stereotypes who
battle for us because our lives are devoid of any purpose or passion? Is it
simply distraction? Or is there more? I think that's part of the answer.
However, another part of me wondered whether or not on a broader scale, if we
as people in this nation and form of government, liked being lied to and
entertained? Or, do we just go along with the charades because to question
everything or strive to live in reality would take too much energy and force us
to confront how truly messed up our present world is? In other words, are we
trained throughout our existence in this system to avoid too much truth because
once you know something, you're responsible for it? Is it easier to just
embrace the lies and pretend like everyone else--even if we are well aware of
what exists behind the masks and well constructed movie sets of our lives?
The concept of fake combat found in
professional wrestling, I think exists in many other facets of our
"modernized" society. The media and its many news outlets operate in
a similar manner. What is presented to us as unbiased news is actually thoroughly
discussed, heavily edited, and slanted in whatever direction will best arouse the
interest and emotions of the public. News coverage, like movies and music, is simply an additional form of entertainment. The difference being, with news, most the
material to work with occurs on its own and serves as sort of modeling clay for
the directors and producers to work with and shape as they please. Whereas
music, movies, etc. are birthed in the imagination of the creators and artists.
But even they draw inspiration and ideas from real-life events pretty normally.
However, just as there are good guys and bad guys, noble causes and evil plans
in professional wrestling, issues and events are presented in the same format
and new programs pit "experts" and various other talking heads
against one another for entertainment purposes. They bring out the same dry
conflicts that people will always get worked up about; be it abortion,
gun-control, affirmative action, gay rights, raising the minimum wage, the
death penalty, etc. And sure enough, people tune in to watch and listen to the
same moldy drivel spit back and forth between these clowns. Sometimes it ends
up as loud and brash and the wrestlers' trash talking session between matches.
There's no difference. The outcomes and battles are as predictable as what
takes place in arenas and stadiums all over the USA when the professional
wrestling show comes to town. These news programs which profess to bring us the
latest updates and talking points about what's important to our lives, desire
for us to get as rowdy about these trivial and age-old issues as people do
about their favorite wrestlers being pitted against their arch rivals. When you
step back from all of the commotion, it's all the same--a distraction.
Something intended to pull you and I in for a few minutes to both avoid dealing
with the depressing state of our lives and/or not pay attention to what the
deceitful duo of the government and corporations are really up to.
It's wonderful for them to pass laws
under your noses concerning corporate tax breaks, restructuring voting
districts, and the newest multi-billion dollar weapons system (that we'll
probably never use) while you're tuned into the latest fights over gay marriage
and making marijuana legal. While the government and corporations work together
to make decisions affecting the world outside of the United States, sending
brave service members into volatile combat zones for corporate and geopolitical
interests (not the defense of the nation), and slowly continue to defund
education and healthcare while increasing the privatization of prisons (and
thus, our criminal justice system as a whole), many are distracted by where the
Confederate Flag hangs and what religion the president is. These media outlets
don't inform us--they entertain, or rather distract us. And like all the
enthralled people that night that surrounded me--they want more.
We don't want reality. Yes, that's a
sad reality. We would rather buy into the game that our officials are truly
democratically elected and not pre-chosen for us to make a decision between
only two which essentially carry out the same agendas. Their differences on
certain social and/or economic perspectives are minuscule compared to the
larger picture. And that's where we magnify it all and pretend along with them
that such things really matter. It's tragic. Our desire to be lied to and
pretend has resulted in our nation relinquishing our minds to the
commercial-political-propaganda machine. We have resigned ourselves to be
satisfied with being told what to think and have abandoned the acknowledgement
of the dire need to know how to think. We are the very zombies in the horror
films we watch, walking aimlessly around looking to devour anyone that dare be
different. We purposely tune out and run towards a state of unawareness because
living in the clouds is much more fun than facing the truth about what has
happened to our economy, society, and political system.
We believe that we operate in a
legitimate democracy when the truth is, in this nation, a democracy has become a political institution and form of government which
convinces the populace that their voting power has legitimate influence over
decisions made by the government and the direction of the state. Nonetheless,
in reality, all major economic, militaristic, social, and political decisions
and the directions thereof are controlled by one person or a select few in the
corporate and political sector. Democracy professes to be a system where the
governed have the final say in matters. The truth is, Democracy is simply
another form of either an oligarchy or a dictatorship. The difference being,
the aforementioned forms of government aren't usually shrouded under such a
thick layer on nonsensical rhetoric and unrealistic ideals.
We have applied the same concept that the hyper-Capitalistic pharmaceutical
industry relies on for success; it's much easier to swallow the pill for
temporary relief than it is to deal with the causes of the symptoms and
sickness--side-effects notwithstanding. We have been neutered and lulled to
sleep by the distractions and lies to the point where we wish not to be
awakened. Just give us more football, wrestling, and news shows. Pretending
this system is real is like believing professional wrestling is a genuine
athletic competition. It may last for a while. But ever since that
special day as a teen, I couldn't enjoy it the same way or even force myself to
get into it like before. There's something about revelation that brands the
truth upon your mind. You can't go back to how you thought before. You see things differently and then begin to question other areas of life. Well, maybe
some people can revert back. But I choose to use my mind. Otherwise, I'm just another
character on the stage.
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