Professional wrestling has fought the battle against being labeled as fake for decades. They relentlessly claimed their product was real and their wrestlers sold it to the best of their ability. It’s a code in professional wrestling that goes back to the carnival days. It’s called kayfabe. Basically, it’s the world we as fans aren’t supposed to know about. It’s an innocence where we suspend all form of disbelief and buy into what we’re shown in person or on TV.
We watched Bruno Sammartino and Bruiser Brody with reverence and awe as they plied their craft. It was a simpler time in many ways. It was like reading a fairly tale story where good and evil clashed over the princess or kingdom. We would get lost in their stories for hours, and would wrestle our friends, siblings, or imaginary foes on the living room carpet. Instead of a ring bell, we had our parents yelling at us to not break anything if we didn’t settle down on our own.
It was a wonderful time, a time of magic.
Make believe comes to an end
Then several investigative reports happened in the 1980s that opened the door just a little into the world of professional wrestling. Fans started to pay closer attention, and noticed when wrestlers braced themselves, communicated when their heads were close, and even heard them saying what they were going to do.
But it wasn’t until the Montreal Screwjob in 1997 when the doors between reality and fiction were kicked wide open and fans got their first glimpse into the world behind the lights. For the first time, wrestlers were human beings and not superstars or mythical figures. Suddenly, the Hercules Hernandezes and Kevin Sullivans weren’t something that wowed or terrified us, but were simply people putting on a show like our favorite actors.
It was heart breaking or many, but we accepted it. After all, we still had many of our heroes making appearances, and new heroes were on the horizon to take professional wrestling to a whole new level.
Opening new doors
What happened wasn’t the death of professional wrestling, as many claimed, but a rebirth. It forced wrestlers to become more innovative, to find new ways to grab our attention.
While the time of the giant, musclebound wrestlers faded and were replaced with smaller, more streamlined wrestlers that could fly and produce moves that rivaled what superheroes in comics were capable of, some of that old school mentality remained. As it should.
Evolving isn’t forgetting the past, but embracing it.
Currently, we see wrestlers use many of the time-honored strategies of making the fans hate or love them.
Heels insult the locals at the shows, but also do despicable acts toward those we see as innocent or unable to defend themselves. Our boos are their currency, our tears their nectar.
Babyfaces (or faces for short) defend the fans, praise the town and people where they’re performing, and stand up to the heels. Our cheers are their payment, our joy their lifeblood.
Into these battles we pick our sides
We know it’s scripted, that the outcomes are predetermined. We know that Brock Lesnar and others beating up on our heroes isn’t real. But that doesn’t take away from the magical spell they cast on us.
Professional wrestling is like watching our favorite action movies. The difference is they don’t use wires or stunt doubles. Their careers or lives could end with a single failed move, so enjoy it. Embrace the joy of the moment we’re being exposed to.
