Pro-Wrestling
When I was eight I watched Sting, the undisputed world heavyweight champion of the world, in full black trench coat, white face paint with the slick black framing lines jump down from the rafters and deliver a whooping unlike any I had ever seen before onto the villainous New World Order. He did it alone, armed with a painted black baseball bat, and he swung fast and tremendously powerful, knocking each of the monotone-ly garbed men down, cradling stomach, rubbing knees, cursing at him as the spun out of the ring and the crowd cheered hard and loud. The New World Order were a group of bad guys morally opposed to the state of American pro-wrestling who were closer and closer each week to bringing down the company, and each week Sting and those faithful to the millions of fans and the honor of the sport defended it all. All of it, sucked me in so fast.
I watched this all with my grandfather, who told me names, moves, places, who was what, and how each person worked. “He’s a face.” Poppa J told me, “He’s a good guy, he doesn’t cheat because he knows he’s better than that.” And when someone brought in a metal chair or hit someone in the nether regions and I’d ask, “Why would he cheat?” My grandfather told me, “Because he just wants to win, that’s all. He’s the heel, a bad guy who doesn’t care about anybody else.” And everybody hated a heel. It was here that I learned a few life lessons from sitting and watching each story play out, much can be likened to the B(adsjhaskd)’s article about fairytales and their affect on children. I learned quite a few life lessons. That you never give up on a dream, “Macho Man” Randy Save never let his dream of becoming world champion die, and after three failed attempts on current champ Robert Rude, he beat him and celebrated like nothing I had seen before, weeping openly on television. I learned again from Sting, that good guys lose just for being the good guys when the order finally had enough of him and beat him down five to one, but still each week he kept coming. I learned plenty of other things, that you can cheat to the top and its easy, that love blinds you enough to change who you are, that money is power in our lifetime, but heart can be more valuable than anything-I could go on, I watched a lot of wrestling in my childhood and still do sneak a few peeks here and there. But, I’ll bring my orginal thought back, I think beyond the simple framework that fairytales have in extended in pro-wrestling, that yes, there is evil in the world, and its right out there, and it wants what you want, and yes, by God sometimes that Heel knocks out the ref and steals the win, but there is more. There is a mentality with pro-wrestling that mirrors life. Unlike a fairy tale, the story doesn’t just stop after we learn the lesson, we se what happens beyond the story, what happens the week after, and the week after that, how a character rebuilds itself, a how storylines intertwine, and mix and shape themselves into something larger. Each week is a spectacle, but a new one at that, one with flashing lights and great action and acts of strength and agility, and narrative, constant narrative. In pro-wrestling we can see a fall from grace and then we watch a man pick himself back up or fall down, we are in extended fairytales, ones without end. Ones that spin on and on forever.
Now, I feel as though I’ve been too serious thus far, because all of you can are probably thinking it, how can he justify grown, sweaty, mean grappling to having any narrative wit. Well, I’ll agree with you there, there is stupid amounts of flash and drama, but its for reason. In my eyes, pro wrestling has taken over the roll that the circus had at one point, and what the circus had taken over for vaudeville. Each was a spectacle, but at some form a relatable level to human form. In fact pro-wrestling started in the streets as a side caper to most vaudevilles, public acts of strength that could be displayed, and once it caught on it was regulated and years and years passed. People flock to these events because each and every moment in pro wrestling is bigger than their own lifes. There are heroes and villians, knights and monsters, and they all walk down the same ramp to the same ring and follow the same rules. There is order in their anarchy. And that’s why people watch, to understand their world and compare it to their own, to get sucked out of their thoughts and placed into a new mindset. Its why people read good novels, why people go to movies, why they tell stories at all. Its all an escape, and yes, it is wrapped in neon spandex and “twenty five inch pythons, brother”, but its still trying to tell you a story every week. Yes, its violent, but it is never a blood sport, it is never about just doing the most damage. Pro-wrestling is a spectacle, one meant dazzle with its athletic ability, like the vaudeville strong men, or the tight rope walker, its about how you cause pain and what that says about your character.
I guess I’ll end with a statement. Yes, wrestling it fake, its fake because people can get hurt real easy doing what they do. Its faked so that each week they can still tell that story, and story that constantly unfolds more and more each week, as characters swap roles, heel to face, face to heel, champion to rookie, to mid-carder, to jobber, all the way back around again. And every single moment is for the fans. The performers tied to modern wrestling do what they do, for cheers and for boos, because they love the stories, they love helping people forget, and giving them something new. Its why I still respect as, and I mean this, an art form unto its own. So, my only hope is that this speech has helped to inform you about the undertones of pro-wrestling and what it can mean to the fans, the kids, and the grandparents alike. Thank you.
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