Coming Out: Neo-Marksism

“Oh, you like wrestling? You still watch WWF?”

If you’re like me, you’ve probably cringed at the sound of hearing WWE still being referred to as “WWF.” How long ago was the name changed? About 12 years? The thought of correcting them crosses your mind, and you toy with the possibility of following up with a lengthy explanation about the legal disputes with the World Wildlife Fund and the WWE. Such are matters that smarks like me know so well. But, you refrain. What’s the point? They probably judged you the second they heard the word “wrestling.” You may even have to explain why you’re a grown man who still watches professional wrestling. Yet, you ultimately don’t care. Like most wrestling fans, you’re a bit of a loner who gets a slight kick from being rebellious at times. Whatever. They don’t get it. Wrestling is awesome and you’re proud to love it.

Being proud to love wrestling, however, is something with which is have struggled in the past. Yes, wrestling was undoubtedly awesome. How can one not love such a spectacle: the glory, the action, the characters, the stories in the ring as well as outside? Matches, storylines, and angles are capable of pulling a sea of emotions out of those who watch. Whether you’re pulling for the fall of a despicable heel or watching your favorite wrestler finally win the world title, wrestling has the power to affect you and ultimately entertain you. So why was I ashamed to admit this admiration?

Since my earliest memories, I have been a wrestling fan. I can remember playing with giant, rubber action figures of Ivan Koloff and Jesse Ventura, watching larger than life characters like the Macho Man and Hulk Hogan battle on my television screen, and dropping elbow drops and knee drops as I pretend wrestled with the pillows on my bed. Everyone in my family watched wrestling, too. The parents, the uncles and aunts, and even the girls could sit in front of the TV and watch Saturday Night Main Event or CMLL on Telemundo. They weren’t all as invested as I was, but one thing you could safely say was that wrestling was fun, and everyone loved it.

Suddenly, my friends at school became fans, too. The NWO was invading WCW, WWE was on the verge of the Attitude Era, and everyone was sucking in the brash and rebellious new wrestling style. As teenagers, you can imagine that my friends and I were digging the new era in wrestling. We would walk into class yelling out the New Age Outlaws’ “oh, you didn’t know!” We skipped class to get autographs from Tommy Dreamer and Rob Van Dam, who was at the height of his popularity as ECW Television Champion. We spent hours replaying Toshiaki Kawada dropping Mitsuharu Misawa on his head with the Gonzo Bomb. Wrestling was lunchroom talk, video games, movies, and literature. We lived wrestling. Wrestling was not only fun, but cool, too!

Then, something changed. Initially, my family began hopping off the bandwagon. Then, my friends began bashing the product (sometimes rightfully so). They would balk at any mention of RAW or WrestleMania, and while some still watched the occasional new tape from Japan, their appetite for pure professional wrestling had declined. The rise of mainstream MMA didn’t help either. Now, there was a sport that mixed the lights and glory of pro-wrestling with the “authenticity” of boxing. There were no more inquiries regarding the top spot on PWI’s 500 or rotations of whose house was going to host the next PPV. Wrestling was no longer cool. But I still loved it.

Bringing that love of wrestling to Corporate America did not help boost my pride in being a wrestling fan. Like Sting as a heel, things just didn’t work well. Whenever I mentioned that I watch wrestling I have been given a weird glance, almost immediately dismissed from the conversation, and even sometimes laughed. I can recall one occasion that best explains this.

In 2008, I went to the Royal Rumble at Madison Square Garden. I was excited as this was my first live event. The next day I went to work, and still buzzing over the great time I had, I shared my experience with a coworker over lunch. Then, another co-worker walked into the cafeteria and sat beside us. He then began to share his weekend adventures with us and he was apparently in the MSG vicinity seeing some kind of show that escapes my memory. While telling us about this, he mentions that there was a wrestling event at MSG and the place was crowded. “It was horrible” he exclaimed, and with a look that says a million words he concluded “especially since you know the kind crowd that goes to wrestling events.” In fairness, he didn’t know that I was there, and he probably thought he would get cosigners to his claim. Instead, his story came and went, and we carried on with our lunches.

Now remember, this is Corporate America and not a schoolyard. Situations never merited an anti-bulling campaign. But this culture, along with being the sole member of the wrestling fan faction, has led me to avoid any mention of wrestling. I became a closet wrestling fan.

But now, things are different, and like the nature of those during the attitude era and NOW days, I embrace the loner role. Wrestling is my thing, and if I’m alone in that, then I’m ok with it. I’m a father now and knocking on 30’s door this year. I have a better idea of what’s important in life, and at the risk of sounding too philosophical, I tell you that everyone is unique. Some of us embrace that, and others hide it. What kind of life will you have if you hide the things you love from yourself? For me, this is wrestling. For other’s it may be being a Yankee fan in Boston, or loving Country Music in the roughest of neighborhoods.

Ultimately, that is what I was doing. I was hiding and my love of wrestling from myself. Now, however, I take pride in my love for wrestling. I’m proud to be able to name off the top of my head every Royal Rumble winner and whom they last eliminated. I’m proud that I can talk in depth about the contradictions of current storylines and the successes of good ones. I take pride in knowing details of title histories, King of the Ring events, G1 Climax tournaments, and other puroresu trivia. I can name all of the Tiger Masks, Vilanos, and Sin Caras. I know what a front chancery is. I am proud that I can describe the beauty of Bret’s Sharpshooter and the danger of a Steiner Screw Driver. I take pride that although I know what may happen, my nerves still rack when pulling for my favorite wrestlers. I’m proud to be a fan and love wrestling.

Although once challenged, I now embrace this eccentricity. What’s best? Sometimes I meet a fellow fan, and we can partake in debates that put John Stewart and Bill O’ Reilly to shame. I’m happy I’m a wrestling fan. Now, when asked, I tell them “Yes, I watch wrestling, and by the way, it’s not the WWF anymore.”