I'm going to make a confession. It's a little embarassing, but the embarassment of this obsession I am about to make has diminished with time and more understanding of the true nature and artistry of this wacky love that I had. So, without further ado, I can take a deep breath, relax, and finally get this burden off of my chest.
hoooohhhhhoohhhhhh... (That's me simulating a release of deep breath, in case you didn't know.)
I was a professional wrestling fan.
I know, I know. It's stupid. It's fake. It's trashy. It's bizarre. It's over the top. It's unintelligent.
And when I was 10 years old, it was absolutely fantastic. Where else could you possibly see the most wild and fascinating characters duke it out in a fantasy world. Say what you will, but in many ways the world of professional wrestling was my first love and introduction into the world of theatre. It had every theatrical spectacle you could include in an entertainment industry. There were fireworks, music, costumes, acting, choreography, and unbelievable storylines. It was performance at it's finest.
Whenever somebody would tell me the simple truth that it was fake, I would get very upset. Not because I didn't want to believe that it was all a farce, but more so because I always felt that that was an incredibly shallow and one dimensional arguement to denounce something. I mean, shoot, would you stop watching Grey's Anatomy if you found out they weren't really doctors. Of course I knew it was all choreographed fighting, but I still enjoyed watching because it was entertaining. I understood, as I still understand, that in reality professional wrestling is not fake at all. Sure the storylines are all pre-determined and pre-written, but so is any television show that hopes to pick up ratings and keep the audience interested. The true beauty of pro wrestling is that the bumps and hits that they take are quite real and painful. They are only choreographed to the extent that they keep each other fom killing one another or seriously hurting each other. Why do you think so many wrestlers die at such a young age. Painkillers, concussions, steroids, constant traveling, and alcohol will take it's toll on a body over time. But the good wrestlers, the really great ones, can be like artists in the ring, great dancers who can tell a whole story in twenty minutes with their bodies through beautiful choreography.
I just finished reading the autobiography of Bret "The Hitman" Hart, one of my favorite pro wrestlers as a child. I loved him because he was a skilled mat wrestler, a fan favorite, had a cool demeanor, kick ass music, and indeterminable will in the ring. He was also man enough to wrestle his entire career in Pink and Black wrestling gear, something unique and inspiring. Hart came from a very large family of 12 children, whose father was a prominent wrestling promoter in Canada. Bret became the best known wrestler of all his brothers, and rose to prominence in the 90's as a great worker and even served as champion of the World Wrestling Federation on several different occasions. He rarely ever missed a show, stayed off drugs and steroids, neveer injured another wrestler in the ring, and always worked fairly with all of the other talented performers around him. Unfortunately, towards the end of his career he went through a multitude of personal tragedies, from being legitamtely screwed and embarassed in the middle of a match by his boss, to the tragic death of his brother Owen, who fell to his death from the rafters during a wrestling show performing an over the top stunt. His family was later torn apart from the subsequent lawsuits. And while riding a bicycle, he hit a pothole and hit his head on the pavement, causing a career ending stroke which probably was not helped by the severe concussion he had recieved a few months earlier.
When Hart retired, that was the end of my wrestling days. Wrestling was just beginning to become more of a raunchy and out of control, nonsensical charade. I could no longer stand to watch something that had nothing to do with the art and entertainment that I had enjoyed watching as a child. The old wrestlers had thrilled me with the physical art of wrestling, and I had great respect for what they did. They were masters of a beautiful dance. Bret Hart had always been at the top, and when he left it merely became a soap opera. I still flip over sometimes on Monday nights to see the wrestling show, but I rarely see them actually wrestling, And with the advent of the internet and tweetering it's kind of impossible to cover up the "biz" anymore. But, I'll never forget all the lessons I learned watching the cartoon world of wrestling.
Thanks Hitman. You really were the best there is, the best there was, and the best there ever will be.
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