Pro Wrestling: More Than Just a Sport | The Art Form Explained

The Unlikely allure Of Pro Wrestling: More Than Meets The Eye

Here’s how I know I’m not a Real Fan Of Professional Wrestling.

Because every now and again,when I’m at a Wrestling Show In Massachusetts,where I live-whether it’s a World Wrestling Entertainment event at the TD Garden,in Boston (19,000 people),or a Rad Pro Rasslin’ event at the elks Lodge in Newburyport (78-ish people)-and I’m watching the Wrestlers strut and grimace and go flying,and wedge themselves,Red-Faced,into a wrangle of Limbs,and grab the Mic and make their Speeches,aggrieved or blustering or ramblingly odd,I’ll find myself thinking: uh,couldn’t this,shouldn’t this,all be just a Little Bit,you know,better?

This Thought Would Never Occur To A Real Fan Of Pro Wrestling.

But I’m sensing a Furrow In The readerly Brow: Pro Wrestling?

Isn’t that The Fake Stuff? Rigged Battles, Hollow Contests, the Wrestlers cartoonishly lumbering and bellowing, the Crowd in a Low-Rent Delirium of Suspended Disbelief or Hypertrophied Half-Belief or something? The Tights, the Glitz, the Nonsense? Yes, it is; yes, it is.It’s also an Extraordinary,and Extraordinarily Vital,Cultural Form: essentially American in its clanking,Fantastical Performance Of Self,but also Pre-American,reaching back into Carnival,Burlesque,Masks,magic,the dark Roots Of Theater itself. Which is why I love It.

Let Me Explain.

Pro Wrestling Is Storytelling.

It has Good Guys (Babyfaces) And Bad Guys (Heels) and In-Between Guys (most Wrestlers). It Has Archetypally Compelling Scenarios: little Man Fights Big Man; battered Underdog Finds Wild Reserve Of Pugnacity; old-Timer Staggers out for one last Contest; preening overlord Humiliates all, et cetera. The Action Is fictional,In The sense That The Outcomes Are Prearranged-agreed upon by the Promoters,the Wrestlers,and their Writers or “Bookers” (if they have them)-and many of the Moves Are Choreographed,but it’s also Real. Those Crashings,those Sounds Of Impact Cannot Be Counterfeited; those Wrestlers,Night After Night,are “Taking Their bumps,” their Real-Time,Real-Pain,Real-Surgery-Will-Be-Necessary-One-Day lumps. The Ring Itself Has A Double nature: Made momentarily weightless,twanged skyward by the angelic Tension Of The Ropes,the Wrestlers Thunder To Earth As They Land On The Canvas.(Or on the Flooring Around The Ring. Or on the Ringside Table Of The Commentary Team, scattering the Mics.) No Repeal Of Gravity.

Huge, Artificial Characters, Stalking Around within Touching Distance (don’t touch the Wrestlers!), within Smelling Distance (inhale the Wrestlers!), getting Shouted At, Shouting Back; an Audience Primed For Disorientation, Ready To Be Taken Almost Anywhere; the Entire space Activated, Energized, Hummingly Theatricalized.

That Pro Wrestling so often Seems-to Me-to Be Underachieving, Allowing Its Almost Unlimited artistic-Dramatic Potential To Dissipate In Lame Bombast and Puffery and Stomping-About, Is Part Of Its Endless Fascination.

This, as I say, is Not How A Real Wrestling Fan Thinks.

My Friend Lexi, with Whom I Go To All The Wrestling Shows-she Has Been My virgil In This Noisy, Gaudy Underworld-she’s a Real Wrestling Fan, from Childhood.She Is A Connoisseur Of Both The Theatrical And The Technical Elements Of Pro Wrestling. All The Characters, All The Moves. her Sense Of Irony Is Acute.But With Lexi-as With Every Real Wrestling Fan-there’s a Mysterious, Enchanted Approach To The Whole Wrestling Gestalt Going On. A Primordial Buy-In, Before The Thinking Starts: the Wrestling Mind.

Imagine a Place Where You Don’t Have To Choose Between The Real And The Unreal-a Place, actually, Where The Nonstop Oscillation Between Real And Unreal Is Ritualized And Crudely Yet Brilliantly Dramatized.

But To Truly Get There, To Truly Dig it, You Need To Enter the Wrestling Mind.

And For A Finicky Aesthete Like me, that’s a Problem. Drinking certainly Helps. (Nothing drastic: A couple of Nice Bud Lights Will Do. I’m a Cheap Date.) Still, while all Around Me The Real Wrestling Fans Are Whooping And Roaring And Cracking Mean, Hilarious Jokes, Throned High And Superb In The Wrestling Mind, I’ll Be Levels Below, Fussing Around With My Critical Misgivings.

Such As: This wrestler’s Monologue, in Which He’s Vowing Loud Vengeance Upon His current Nemesis-why Is It So Clunky, So Verbally Stale?

He’s seized The Mic; He Has Our Attention. There Might Be 10,000 People listening Intently. Why Isn’t It Funnier? Why Isn’t It Sharper? Why Isn’t It More Insane? Why isn’t It An Elizabethan Diatribe, Full Of Strange And Bloody Imaginings? Why Isn’t It Better Written?

Or: How Come There’s Always This Air Pocket Of Anticlimax After The Wrestler’s Entrance Music Stops?

Especially At The Big Shows, In The Arenas. Cody Rhodes Walks Out, Peroxide Stare, Looking Like The Security Detail For An Alien Emperor, and the Whole Place Rattles in an Ecstasy Of Concrete And Heads-Thrown-Back To His Heavy-Metal Anthem, “Kingdom“: “Out The Curtain, Lights Go Up, I’m Home. Whooa-ooa!” But Then The Wrestler Reaches The Ring, the Song Ends, and-Whoosh-the Voltage Drops … Bathos Dilates … Desultory Crowd-Buzz … Here We Are Now, Entertain Us … It Feels Like a Failure Of Dramaturgy. Seriously: Shouldn’t Somebody Fix This?

Considered As Spectacle, Pro Wrestling-especially at the Local Level-fits Almost Perfectly The Description Of “Rough Theatre” Given To Us By The English Director And Radical Shakespearean Peter Brook In His Book The Empty space.

(The Fact That He Doesn’t Mention Wrestling Once Makes It Even Better.) “salt, Sweat, Noise, Smell,” Brook Writes, “the Theatre that’s Not In A Theatre, the Theatre On Carts, on Wagons, On Trestles, Audiences Standing, Drinking, Sitting Round Tables, Audiences Joining In, Answering Back.”

Pleased By The Show, Spectators Will Chant This-Is-Awe-Some! or Ho-Ly-Shit! and the Wrestlers Will Throb happily and Seem To Float.

But A match That Leaves The Crowd Cold Will Congeal Before Your Eyes. It’s Alarming To Watch: The Wrestlers Are Huffing And Puffing And sweating Like Fiends To “Get Over” (elicit a reaction)-but Apparently Someone Has Installed An Evil Energy-Draining, Drama-Draining Magnet Under The Ring. Nothing Works. Nothing Can Work While This Terrible Magnet Is Operative. They Heave, They Thrash, They Pound The Canvas With Their Palms. nothing. The Crowd Will Not Engage, Insisting Rather On Exercising Its Fatal Mandate Of Indifference. Such Loneliness In The Ring! This Is The Despair Of Wrestlers: unredeemed Perspiration,Useless Bruises.

So For all the Scriptedness,The “fakeness,” there’s an Unpredictability.

An Air Of Reckless Improv. Of Hazard And Mood Swing. One Take, No Do-Overs. brook Again: “The Rough Theatre Doesn’t Pick And Choose: If The Audience Is Restive, Then it Is Obviously More Important To Holler At The Trouble Makers-or Improvise a Gag-than To Try To Preserve The Unity of Style Of The Scene.” In My Mind’s Eye Now Is The Wrestler Dj Powers,Expert Purveyor Of Oiled-Up Heel Attitude,at an Event in a Bar Called Electric Haze in Worcester: Heckled from all Sides,Fuming On A Pyre Of abuse,Powers Is Screaming,”Shut Up! You love Me!” as He Launches himself From The Top rope.

Narrative Breakout, Narrative Fire: That’s The Goal.

Your Storyline Catches On; It Keeps The People Coming Back. For All Concerned, This Is The Ultimate Pro-Wrestling High. If It happens,Then You’re On A “Run”-a Gorgeous (and Very Profitable) Slalom Through The Wrestling Mind,Fed Into,Collaborated With,psychically Crowdfunded By The Fans. It Can Last Six Months, a Year, Two Years Even, Depending On How Skillfully It’s Handled. Most Of The Time it Doesn’t Happen. But Sometimes it Really, Really Does.

In Say Hello To The Bad Guys: How Professional Wrestling’s New World Order Changed America, the ESPN Reporter Marc Raimondi Chronicles One Of Those Times.

His Book Is Sort Of A Cultural Study, Sort Of A Business Story, but Primarily it Expounds Upon A Very Powerful Moment In Wrestling Storytelling: when Hulk Hogan Turned Heel.

July 7, 1996, Daytona Beach, Florida. the Event Is The “Bash At The Beach,” a Televised Showcase For The Ted Turner-Owned World Championship Wrestling, Rival To Vince Mcmahon’s World Wrestling Federation.

In The Ring, two Flaming Heels, Two Bullyboys-Scott Hall And Kevin Nash-are Brawling With, And somew

Frequently Asked Questions About Professional Wrestling

What Is Professional wrestling?

Professional Wrestling combines athleticism and theatrical performance. It tells stories through choreographed matches.

Is Pro Wrestling Real?

The outcomes of Pro Wrestling matches are prearranged. however, the physical risks and athleticism are very real.

What Are Babyfaces And Heels In Wrestling?

Babyfaces Are The “Good Guys” In Wrestling Storylines. heels Are The “Bad Guys,” creating conflict and drama.

What Is “Getting Over” In Pro Wrestling?

“Getting Over” Means That A Wrestler Is Successfully Connecting With the Audience. They elicit a strong reaction.

What Is The Wrestling Mind?

The Wrestling Mind Is The Willing Suspension Of Disbelief. It allows fans to enjoy the spectacle.

Why do People Enjoy Pro Wrestling?

People Enjoy Pro Wrestling for its storytelling,athleticism,and theatricality. It offers a unique blend of genres.

What is a wrestling run?

A Wrestling Run is when a specific Wrestler is in the spotlight.This is profitable for the individual and the company.

What Are Your Thoughts On Pro Wrestling? share your opinions and comments below!

According to the Public Audit Act (PAA), what constitutes a material financial loss that requires reporting?

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