So why do we love wrestling? when it comes down to it, its appeal lies on two levels. The first one is the competitive element. Everyone has their favourites, and they want them tae win at all costs. They break their wee hearts when they don’t. It’s an injustice! CM Punk should be the World Heavyweight European Hardcore Champion, forever and ever. Daniel Bryan should share the rest of the belts wae Cesaro, and Big E can keep the IC strap. PUSH DREW MCINTYRE! Aw that shite. We have our favourites and we support them like they’re members of our own family. Like they still suckle on the teet. In reality? its all make believe. Its no more spontaneous than a last minute script change on a sitcom. There’s plenty of improv of course. During matches, promos and anything CM Punk ever does. But its aw rigged. We’re all being played and we know it.
So where’s the appeal if we all know its a work? for me the second level is the storytelling. For me there is nothing more captivating than watching people who are the very best at what they do, telling us a wee story with nothing more than a set of wrestling moves and a particular way of putting them together at their disposal. Like all good stories, the ending has to be fulfilling though. If it doesn’t bring closure, that’s when unrest starts. When Cena takes someones finisher aff the top of the Empire State Building, and still kicks out at 2, that’s when cunts start throwing shit, and making incredibly embarrassing youtube vidoes of themselves burning an effigy of Randy Orton, drying their tears wae an auld Nexus t-shirt. Wondering where it all went wrang. It’s all Triple Hs fault. This company will always be corrupt as long as it’s the house McMahon built. Jack Tunney did it!
All these wee cliches wee aw churn out to make ourselves feel better for becoming too invested in a story.
So why do we buy in when we know we’re being worked? Its simple. All wrestling fans like to live in a fantasy land. We all live in a wee bubble. We’re all idealists, who have the perfect life mapped out for ourselves, but so many things (reality n that) get in the way. Wrestling is an escape from that. It’s a chance for us to get invested in a story outwith our own, and get angry on someone elses behalf. We can write out paragraph after paragraph about how fuckin unfair it is that Daniel Bryan doesn’t get the push he richly deserves, but even if he is being deliberately held back, how much of a shit do you think he gives? He still gets paid handsomely to do the thing he loves, and outwith the wrestling side, he’s an actor at the end of the day. When he goes hame tae the slightly less howlin Bella he’s slingin it tae, he probably stops giving a fuck about Triple H and/or Vince not seeing him as a legit draw. Or Randy Orton not seeing him as a viable lunchroom buddy. Truth be told he probably takes his wee rid pants aff. Pits oan an Ellesse tracksuit and goes about the rest of his day as Brian Danielson. Not a care in the world. But will I allow mysell tae go in tae a deep depression when I feel he’s been slighted? Fuckin right. Did I briefly consider launching my empty beer bottle at the tele when Dolph Ziggler dropped the World Heavyweight belt? I did indeed. I didnae dae it, but I’ll tell ye right now, If I did chose to go down that path, there wouldn’t be a fuckin ounce of regret for my actions. Dolph should have held that belt forever. Forever and a minute. Half past forever rolls round, n yer thinkin thats tea-break? nut. Its Z break mate. Its time for you tae take 5 minutes to admire Dolph Ziggler for the glistening move selling genius that he is.
I suppose the point I’m trying to make, is that living in yer ain wee fantasy world is really ok. Too many people don’t make time for escapism, when reality is often shite. Always make time for the stuff that makes ye feel that sense of wonder ye felt when ye were wee. If your wonder lies wae wrestling, then yer my kinda people.
Also. Buff Bagwell.