How WWE Smackdown Made Me Stop Worrying And Learn To Love Wrestlemania

I woke up Tuesday morning excited, perhaps inexplicably considering my current mood towards the product as I have written about here.

My wife and I ran some errands early, rain came down in a wonderful Spring shower and my daughter and I played video games, ate Doritos and then splashed around in the mud and puddles before coming inside for me to get ready for the show. While I was getting ready, my wife ran to the store and got me posterboard and markers so I could make signs and my daughter helped me color them in before sending me off to the show. It was as perfect a day as a man could ask for, and it was ending with Smackdown and 205 Live in my hometown of Richmond, VA.

Maybe this could lift my spirits about this year’s prime attraction, WrestleMania?

My brother from another mother, Bryant, picked me up and we argued, as we always do, about the future of WWE on the way to the arena. Specifically he argued the merits of Shane McMahon facing AJ Styles, and I argued how fucking dumb the idea is, regardless of where it leads. There was no clear consensus in the car by the time we arrived, which is also usual. Bryant and I argue about wrestling constantly, but in the best way, knowing we rarely change each other’s mind, and living for those few times we either do, or we are proven right and can win some dumb bet. We arrived at the arena just after 7, met up with another friend, Cal, and ran into a few more (including a long time friend, Anson, who helped me stage a show in high school once where I took a chokeslam off of a 5 foot stage). I was in an almost euphoric state as we entered the arena, having had a wonderful day and having the evening start off splendidly so far.

Truly this would be the night that my opinion on WrestleMania changed.

We made our way to our seats, lower concourse, between the ring and the ramp. Bryant is no great fan of heights, which is funny considering he is short.

So am I.

I have no such problem with heights.

Our seats were very good, high enough to see over the heads of those taller than us (most everyone it seemed) but not so high that we felt far away. I could see the ring with no problems and knew that the corner facing us was a corner they wouldn’t use considering the new age of WWE is all about working to cameras, and it’s difficult to shoot that corner for the Kevin Dunn crew. Come to think of it, in the many shows I have seen at this arena (likely around 100), I have sat virtually everywhere, and the worst time I ever had was sitting on the floor, near the back, next to the announce table (back when they were on the stage).

The lights dimmed. An announcer of extreme generic-ness announced the name of our city, one wrought with history both good and bad, and the crowd cheered. I don’t think they cheered for the history of the city, for its prominent place as an early American hub, as its place as the Confederate capital during the Civil War, for its role in the resurgence of punk and metal music in the 80s and 90s. I think they cheered simply because it was a WWE employee acknowledging them, and where they lived, and made them feel important.

WWE made them feel recognized.

The show began, as 90% of wrestling shows seem to now, since the dawn of the Attitude Era, with people talking. AJ Styles, receiving a massive pop from fans who remember less than a year ago when he won his first WWE World Title in Richmond, came out to confront Shane McMahon in what I assume was a contract signing. I didn’t pay terribly much attention to what they were saying because as they talked, something was dawning on me. Something I had been thinking about for a day or so, and had discussed in the car with Bryant earlier. It was dawning with a sense of clarity I had yet to have in the last few weeks. It had been really spawned by one of the (seemingly) hundreds of videos they had played since the Generic Announcer had said our cities name and the slightly less generic announcers of Phillips, Otunga and JBL had arrived to signal the beginning of Smackdown. The video featured the spectacle of WrestleMania throughout its history, with a strong emphasis on the celebrities that got involved. The thought hit me so hard I was dumbfounded and, while I watched what was happening in the ring that first half hour or so, I wasn’t particularly invested. That thought ran across my mind in big bright shiny letters, blinking in a grotesque sequence that is impossible to ignore in its gaudiness.

WrestleMania isn’t about wrestling.

I know that sounds weird, and trust me, for someone who had been in a great mood and was finally sitting in his seat watching WWE live in front of my eyes, it was weird for me to be processing these thoughts then too. But it is true, it is right, and best of all, it made me stop worrying about WrestleMania.

WrestleMania, as I am sure you have read in one of the millions of articles over the last week, began in 1985 and featured a host of celebrities. Liberace was there. Billy Martin was there. Cyndi Lauper was there as part of her big storyline with Wendi Richter. And of course, Mr. T was in the main event, and what’s more Muhammad Ali was the guest referee. WrestleMania didn’t blow off any feuds, any huge debuts, there were no five star matches, hell, the Main Event of the show was only thirteen minutes long and Piper and Hogan, the main feud of the time, were barely featured during it.

WrestleMania II didn’t change any of that. Sure there was a great tag match with the Bulldogs and the Dream Team and a really decent Funks VS JYD and Tito Santana match, but otherwise the matches themselves were nothing to write home about. But celebrities, oh boy, there were tons of them. The battle royal featured loads of NFL stars, including the incomparable William “Refrigerator” Perry. Ray Charles sang the National Anthem, jazz legend Cab Calloway was there, Ozzy Osbourne was in the Bulldogs corner for the night, Elvira made an appearance as did Joan Rivers, Susan St. James, Robert Conrad, Cathy Lee Crosby and a host of others. Mr. T had another match, a boxing one with Piper. The whole show was an excuse for celebrities. Again the Main Event barely crossed 10 minutes, and was a slow, plodding affair of Hogan selling his ribs, bleeding, and then winning with the usual.

It was WrestleMania III that screwed us up, specifically Steamboat and Savage. I blame them. They got us to expect big blow offs to feuds with five star matches being put on at WrestleMania. Those selfish bastards, they ruined it for everyone.

And so on.

http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x4jxzwf

I snapped back to reality around the time that The Miz’s music hit. Bryant was vibrating with excitement, as he had been keeping up with Smackdown far more effectively than I have and knew what to expect. Soon a little mini-movie aired, poking fun at Total Bellas and John Cena and Nikki’s relationship. It was funny. It was a little edgy. It was mesmerizing.

Not long after, Cena would come to the ring and cut one of the most impressive promos I have heard in several years. It was raw, and intense, and funny, and ruthless.

It was also pretty honest, by the way.

Out of nowhere, despite every continuing issue I had with the matches that will be presented on Sunday (and the outcomes expected of more than one of them), despite the fact that the show itself is a pompously ridiculous six hours long with only twelve or so matches, despite the fact that the match I was now most excited for involved THE GODDAMNED MIZ OF ALL FUCKING PEOPLE. despite all that, I had stopped worrying about WrestleMania. It all clicked.

Of course celebrities had a huge place in WrestleMania. WrestleMania isn’t about wrestling.

Of course old part-timers had premier spots at WrestleMania. WrestleMania isn’t about wrestling.

Of course a mixed tag match involving The Miz was the match with the most heat going into the show. WrestleMania isn’t about wrestling.

Of course.

Of course.