Cantankerous Chicanery

The fact that I’m an afficionado of mock combat is, quite honestly, something I tend not to mention in the company of others. As you can imagine, among friends, it’s something I keep to myself at times. But an article that was recently published in the Village Voice picqued my interest and awakened something that has been laying dormant in me for a long time.

Recently, it analyzed a recent ROH show and claimed it was perfect for gay men because of the latent homerotic undertones inheent in its matches. For those who are curious, you can read it yourself and make up your mind here: http://www.villagevoice.com/2009-03-11/voice-choices/blood-match

Quite frankly, I woulda have expected better than hem than this ciched rubbish. But then again, they’ve always had a reputation of being elitist high-culture snobs, in my opinion. By now, I am quite frankly tired of all the criticisms and insults lodged against wrestling: “It’s fake!” “It’s gay!” “It’s so lame!”

I will not deny that it is pre-planned and choreographed. This fact is indesputable and beyond common knowledge. So, yes, in that sense, it is fake. What’s not fake, though, is all the injuries these brave souls go through. Tell me, how is Edge’s recent torn Achilles tendon false? Watch the guy at the local high school gym promotion bleed from his head and ask him how cartoonish it feels.

I think a good majority of fans are, by now, aware of its rather theatrical style (at least, I hope). In fact, this becomes part of the spectacle. We passionate and hardcore fans have become like patrons at a play production: aware of its expectations, always critiquing the substance in an effort to improve it.

If the whole “don’t watch it because it’s fake” argument holds merit, why even bother with most forms of popular entertainment? Should people stop watching South Park because it’s animated and doesn’t involve three-dimensional flesh-and-blood protagonists? Should I turn off the television when House comes on because I possess the knowledge that in real life Hgh Laurie is not actually an acerbic doctor? There does exist this little concept called suspension of disbelief, ya know.

And speaking of South Park, there was recently an episode dealing with professional wrestling. Quite frankly, I didn’t find it that entertaining. Then again, South Park hasn’t really held my interest lately, what with its reactionary and reducto ad absurdum attacks on liberal ideas. Regardless, it went for the obvious route of viewing wrestling as a male soap opera.

In contrast, It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, a superb show if I must say so myself, handled in a much more mature and thoughtful way (as mature and thoughtful as they get, that is). What we may be seeing here is a slight resurgence in the business’s popularity. As us inside fans know, the industry is cyclical, experiencing periodic ups and downs. Now we see a thourougjly postmodern fanbase; aware of its often cheesy limitations, but with a nostalgic reverence tied to childhood experiences with it.

Those who charge that it’s a bit discomforting to see two half-naked men roll around in a ring seem to be projecting their own latent homosexual feelings into the matches. If you see Triple H facing Randy Orton and the first thing that comes to mind is penis on penis, that tells me a lot more about you than it does the nature of wrestling. Not to get all Freudian on you or getting wordy with the old “no u” defense, but that’s how I feel. It’s just more projectile homophobia from people who can’t let that sort of thing rest.

So, with all this said, and all these arguments, let’s get down to the susbstance of my argument. Just why am I a wrestling fans? It’s hard to say, and I find myself gasping for even a muttering as I think about it. Perhaps WCW and WWF WWE got me when I was young. My brother exposed me to an episode of Nitro as a young kid in middle school, and the rest, as they say, is history.

Time went on and I stayed tuned, through the worst of times (yes, I suffered through Brock Lesnar as champion and Katie Vick….oh, what a loyal fan I am). What occured to me is that, as far-fetched as this argument is, is that wrestling is art, in a sense.

Think about it…..it’s pre-arranged, it tries to make a point, it’s performed in front of a group of people, and it often strives to elicit powerful emotions from the audience. So perhaps there is some merit to the “male soap opera” theory. Oftentimes, the storylines revolve around common themes we all encounter in life. Being betrayed by a friend, striving to compete to be the best, running up against arrogant blowhards, striving to be righteous and virtuous in a world rife with corruption. When Batista recently attacked his now former best friend Rey Mysterio, who couldn’t feel Rey-Rey’s pain, having been there before?

Wrestling combines the best of both worlds: playing on the testosterone-fueled desire for violence and bloodshed, with the public cathharsis we’ve come to expect from Shakespeare. In this gritty and bare release of pent-up agression, we fans feel either exhilirated or outraged, depending on whether the face or heel has come out on top. So, basically, RAW is theater with baby oil.

Is it true that some former fans are wandering away in something more raw, more athelic, more, dare I say it…..realer? I thik there actually is some credibility to this argument. MMA, specifically the UFC, has probably stolen away some disgruntled Attitude Era-bros. Even I’ve slightly wandered ove and have began viewing The Ultimate Fighter, without abandoning Vince McMahon’s baby. But even yo have to contend that the UFC is slightly over-the-top. The entrances, the hype, the PPVS, even how they’re building the Rashad-Rampage feud (so much for that, though, what with Jackson straight-up walking out on them). So even they’re not immune from pop culture producton values.

So, in closing, I hope you now see professional wrestling in a different light. As dorky as it sounds, we fans are a passionate bunch, and our fanatacism is not something to be taken lightly, and we are tired of the usual childish taunts levied against our favorite televsions shows. If it persists, we may have to take a steel chair upside your head.

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