How The WWE Made Me Realize I Am Old

Roman Reigns

I’m old.

On January 27th, 1985, I was just 2 ½ years old. A baby. That still didn’t stop me from already being obsessed with professional wrestling. My parents often have told stories about how a diapered me would stop dead in my tracks when at 6:05 on WTBS, World Championship Wrestling would come on television. I know that by 4 I understood the fundamental difference between WWF and NWA, and even had a tenuous grasp on territories considering I had found Georgia Championship as well as Mid-Atlantic and Florida Championship Wrestling on various syndication and AWA as well. I stole my aunt’s Apter mags and marveled at the bloody pictures of Bruiser Brody and Abdullah the Butcher. Soon, World Class Championship would be found on UHF channels and my entire world would revolve around Magnum T.A. and his quest for the NWA world title.

But that is all color to the story. On January 27, 1985, I attended my first wrestling event. Mid-Atlantic Championship Wrestling was in Roanoke, Virginia that night. I remember riding in the car on the way there, looking at clouds with my aunt who was in her early teens and every bit of a fanatic about wrestling as me. I remember sitting high in cheap seats, climbing over a couple rows to alternately be with my Dad and then with my aunt and sometimes just by myself. I don’t remember much of the show until I heard the music of Ric Flair. I remember him showing up behind us, like he had walked right through the front door of the arena (in retrospect, he had likely done a double shot that day and had indeed worked once already that night). I remember reaching out and touching his robe and him looking at me, the Ric Flair Smirk on his face. I remember that he fought Wahoo McDaniel and that it ended with Flair being disqualified and Wahoo was a bloody mess.

Ric Flair
Image Source:
WWE

I remember all these things, and I tell you all of them because I want you to realize how deep this obsession goes.

I remember in middle school being picked on because I was unashamed to call myself a wrestling fan. In a time when Hulk Hogan was passé, Ultimate Warrior was a screaming lunatic who represented the WWF and the steroid trials were mounting, I defended pro wrestling to my classmates. They thought it was all cartoonish, and in that way that pre-teens do, chided me for being childish. How grown up they were, relishing in the blood of Mortal Kombat and the oncoming storm of grunge music on MTV. How could I like something as silly as ‘roided up men in underwear fake fighting?

I remember all these things, and I tell you all of them because I want you to realize how deep this obsession goes.

I remember in high school, the nWo was running wild, Mick Foley was still in the habit of being thrown off high places and Stone Cold Steve Austin was shocking the world by blaspheming and flipping the bird all the time. Kids sought me out because they knew they could ask me for a rundown of what was going on. Wrestling was the hot new thing and they wanted in. I was their dealer. I told them about the history of wrestling, about why Goldberg and Austin would never fight each other (I was right, of course, but not because WWF and WCW would never work together, it was still inconceivable back then that WCW would ever be bought by WWF). I told them about ECW and Puroesu. I educated some of them on how wrestling was more than just Monday Nights. Some of them even listened.

I remember all these things, and I tell you all of them because I want you to realize how deep this obsession goes.

I cried when Owen died. I cried when Eddie died. I cried when Benoit died. I cried even worse when I found out how.

I remember all these things, and I tell you all of them because I want you to realize how deep this obsession goes.

Eddie Guerrero
Source: WWE

As my adulthood as gone on, much to my dismay, I have gotten older. I understand now more about the world, how it works, and why wrestling went back to its PG state. I am even somewhat relieved, having a 7 year old myself that I can watch it with her in the room and never feel uncomfortable. I have taken 2 hours every Monday night (now 3), many Thursdays, then Fridays, then Tuesdays, once a month a Sunday (and during the early days of the brand split, occasionally TWO Sundays, and now apparently, every six weeks), all dedicated to WWF/WWE wrestling on top of enjoying other promotions. WWE is where all my history is. They own my childhood. They are what people think of when wrestling is mentioned to them. I have made time, out of the very limited time I have available, to dedicate to their flagship show, Monday Night Raw.

I remember all these things, and I tell you all of them because I want you to realize how deep this obsession goes.

Yet, these past few months WWE has done something I never thought they would be able to do. They made me actively want to not watch.

WWE gave the world the WWE Network, a place where I can go and watch all the things that made me a fan, all the things I defended in middle school, all the things people asked me about in high school. I can relive the joy, the heartbreak, the silliness and the edginess of what wrestling used to be. Yet, on Raw, weekly, they have proven to me that in no uncertain terms, those days are over. It’s not about me anymore. It never will be again, either.

You see, WWE and their machine, they have made a conscious decision to market to a different audience. Children. What’s more, they have gone after adults. But not me. A more mainstream audience. The casual audience. The hardcore, life-long fan of pro wrestling has no place here anymore. They may throw us a bone occasionally. They may give us a glimpse of good feuds or matches. They may let Cessaro or The Wyatts or AJ Styles have interesting things to say and do in the ring. But they are secondary to movie stars, part-timers and Roman Reigns. Movie Stars. UFC stars. Mainstream.

Roman Reigns
Source: YouTube

Roman Reigns has said he loves wrestling. It’s his blood. The famous Anoa’i family has produced star after star, Roman being the latest among them. There is no reason not to believe Roman either, he has come up the hardest way a WWE handpicked guy can, working in the developmental territory for years, first FCW and then as it morphed into NXT. He came up as part of a heavily pushed group, but was the silent muscle for a long period while the focus was turned mostly to Dean Ambrose. The turn of Seth Rollins made him a huge babyface, and when Batista was being shoved down the throats of the audience heading into Wrestlemania XXX, the arena exploded for the last man remaining in there with him in the Royal Rumble, the young powerhouse Roman Reigns. He went on to have good to great matches with Daniel Bryan, Brock Lesnar and his fellow Shield members. He has won titles and become The Big Dog on RAW. And we, the group of people my age, the lifelongers, we hate him for it. Why?

Our obsession runs so deep.

We want what we want, and up to now we have been given it without question. Vince catered to us and gave us Hulk Hogan, a cartoon to rally behind. NWA followed close behind with Sting. When we grew too old for colorful facepaint, wrestling changed to accommodate us. Hogan turned bad. Sting went Crow. Austin flipped the bird. Women were nearly naked. Everything a teenage boy wants in his entertainment. Then when we were older and into UFC and more sport based stuff, Vince even gave us that too. Eddie and Brock, Angle and Benoit, even HBK and HHH had knock down, drag out, bloody brawls. He gave us the intensity we were looking for. But now… now we are old. And irrelevant. And we don’t know how to handle it so we boo Reigns. We boo John Cena for reasons no one can properly explain other than “his character is old”.

Daniel Bryan became our obsession. He was everything we wanted because he was everything we knew Vince wouldn’t want in a Main Eventer. He was small, vegan, an indie-darling. He wasn’t much of a talker, and grew his hair and his beard out. He had a silly gimmick predicated on hugging Kane and saying alternately Yes or No. He was a goofy midcard act that we decided we wanted to be our representative. We chose him. We made him a star. We cheered so much even the ‘marks’ got in on the act. Vince threw us a bone because the marks got in on it and made him a champion. Then Daniel Bryan, wrestling the style we loved so much, ended his career with one too many concussions. What was Vince to do but go back to the tried and true method of building a tall, good looking babyface? Hogan had worked. The Rock had worked. Cena had, more or less, worked.

Daniel bryan wins the titles

It’s our own fault.

Vince McMahon is moving to the future. The Network and to a lesser extent, NXT, is here to appease us old timers. RAW and Smackdown, Superstars, PPVs, everything else, that’s here to appease children and the main stream. Roman Reigns is here to stay.

We no longer matter and that is why we are so angry. Our voices; so loud, so effective, so catered to for so long… they have been silenced.

There is a new Big Dog in the yard, and come WrestleMania Sunday, he will likely beat The Undertaker, packing him off to retirement.

As Batista said when we booed him for coming back, “Deal with it.”

Enjoy this? Like us on Facebook for more.

Some of the coverage you find on Cultured Vultures contains affiliate links, which provide us with small commissions based on purchases made from visiting our site. We cover gaming news, movie reviews, wrestling and much more.