The Work · 19 min read

“It’s only pro wrestling. And yet, it’s pro wrestling. After all, after all, it’s a thing so flimsy a puff of wind could blow it away. As far as society is concerned, it’s something that stinks enough to hold your nose at.”

— Tarzan Yamamoto

Professional wrestling is one of the oldest sports in the world. It goes back to before the First World War. There’s a film of Ernest Roeber wrestling August Faust from 1901, which is a hell of a thing to be able to look up when most of us can barely agree on what counts as pro wrestling in the first place. Wrestling is probably older than that match, even. You’d think a pastime with that much history would have a fanbase that liked digging around in it. Ask someone about the history of their favorite promotion, though, and see how much they know outside of the years they watched.

For some reason, one of the oldest pastimes in the world has one of the most infantile and underdeveloped fanbases in all of sports and entertainment. I don’t think anyone has had the means (or balls) to conduct some sort of global, intergenerational survey, but I’m sure if they did, they would find that statistically the biggest ills of wrestling fandom are ignorance and illiteracy. Ignorance because, as I pointed out, most fans can’t even tell you the history of their favorite promotion outside of the years they watched it, let alone the history of wrestling itself. And illiteracy because even among the fans who devoutly consume wrestling, how many can explain what they’re watching beyond what it makes them feel?

Before you say I’m being an elitist, consider the lobster. We can argue about where Game of Thrones lost the plot, whether La La Land was the last great modern musical, or whether DreamWorks ever reached the heights of Pixar. We have some idea of what to look at when somebody asks us to explain ourselves with these takes. I’m less sure what happens when you ask a wrestling fan why they liked a comeback. How many of us even think about selling or bumps when we watch a match? I suspect the reason is that in any other medium or sport, fans have a universal language of reference. Wrestling does not.

A Universal Language of Reference

What is a universal language of reference? I’d like to think that it’s all the tropes and genre conventions and institutionalized logic that all fans or consumers of that particular hobby or sport or medium share and understand. Take basketball for instance, people may not agree on who the greatest player of all time is or if the NBA is even the best league in the world, but basketball fans arrive at that disagreement with stuff they can all agree upon such as a two-point shot being one point less than a three-point shot, or that the Americans did send the 1992 Dream Team. There are facts in basketball and rules in basketball which are universal and common to all fans The same with film, if there are seven billion movie-goers in the world, 99.9% of those moviegoers would all agree that Exorcist is a horror movie or that Die Hard is an action film. The disagreements take place surrounding all the stuff that comes after that fundamental categorization. In wrestling, a good deal of the fanbase think New Japan is an indie promotion, and there are those who don’t even consider it as proper wrestling, whatever that means. Death match wrestling and blood is frowned upon even though a good chunk of the 80s and 90s saw main eventers and international stars put on bloody matches or pioneer death match wrestling. See? There’s nothing truly universal in wrestling outside of a pinfall being a three-count.

A big reason, perhaps the most important, is that other sports and media have historians and critics who develop and add to a canon of knowledge. Those are very controversial castes in wrestling because the work they do rarely makes it into the average fan’s vocabulary. Wrestling is beset by ignorance and illiteracy because there is a refusal to recognize the legitimacy or need for historians and critics. Recognize, mind you, not respect. Fans in other media and sports do not need to respect every analyst, critic or historian. At the very least, they recognize their legitimacy. It’s only among wrestling fans that there is a need to push back against the existence of wrestling scholars.

And no, I hate the argument that wrestling is fake and therefore does not need critics or a historical framework. There are so many other mediums that are fake, yet we recognize the tropes and elements that add quality to those simulated forms, whether in theatre or comic books or film. But with wrestling there is an allergic reaction to everything but the most basic values, and usually it’s only because the values are too obvious to ignore but even then it’s obscured by lack of knowledge. Again, consider the lobster: most fans who grew up watching WWE or American wrestling know what a babyface is, but do most understand how a babyface is presented in a match? Or how the babyface interacts with a heel to generate that emotional response from the crowd? It’s the inability to express these instincts that creates holes that can only be plugged by devoted critical thinkers who understand what they are watching and can explain it to others.

In their book titled The Pro Wrestling Hall of Fame: The Storytellers (From the Terrible Turk to Twitter), Greg Oliver and Steven Johnson cite 1.1 billion WWE social media engagements in 2018. By early 2019, WWE’s YouTube channel had 20 billion total views and 40 million subscribers. I’m not citing this to imply that WWE is the end-all and be-all of pro-wrestling fandom. I’m using WWE’s presumed scale as a rough point of reference for imagining how many disparate communities there are. How many of those millions belong to a wrestling community at all? How many are just passing by? How many follow only the one kind of wrestling they grew up on? How many are actually literate in the various paradigms of pro-wrestling?

Then take into consideration the fans who came of age before WWF’s rise and grew up with the heroes and villains of the territories, or those who grew up in Japan, Mexico or other countries with strong wrestling traditions. We need to factor them as well, they might even be larger than the ones subscribing to the WWE social media sphere or they might be smaller. So you see, given this vast, contradictory body of fans, there is a need for scholars and critics trying to establish some form of universal language. Like those ancient sailors trading spices or garments despite great geographical divides, we as fans need some sort of shared understanding that cuts through cultural and linguistic barriers that can unite us to an extent.

Critics and historians help develop this kind of framework through academic research and meaningful discourse about the nature of the craft. Think about the scholars who study ancient Greek texts or Shakespeare’s works. We have a fertile ground for ideas and critical theories about those texts because historians put in the work. They sift through historical records, giving us a clearer picture of what happened during those eras and of the day-to-day conditions that shaped an author’s voice. Critics then read and parse the lines and symbols. They develop lenses and methods for interpreting and deconstructing the work. That’s why you can have a postmodern reading of Shakespeare, a feminist interpretation of the Iliad, or Marxist or capitalist readings of either.

Within wrestling fandom, there are no major, widely accepted critical movements of this kind. Attempts to recreate this kind of discourse in pro wrestling are relegated to the fringe. Nobody wants to talk about the strange dichotomy between Punk as a heel in the Straight Edge Society and Jeff Hardy as the face. Why did the crowd get so behind Jeff? Was it because he was already a beloved star, or because, as a society, we understand addiction as something deserving compassion rather than social stigma? Nobody wants to consider how Moxley preaches survival of the fittest while relying on run-ins to retain the title in his defenses. That contradiction makes for a sharp commentary on the hypocrisy of fascist social-Darwinist models. In any other medium or sport, there would be books and essays, with historians and critics arguing about these concepts. In wrestling, we hate the people who try to go deeper or we don’t care enough about it to give time to these voices.

Factional Legitimacy

I’ll use two of wrestling’s most famous historian-critics as examples: Dave Meltzer and Jim Cornette. Both have accumulated knowledge that far exceeds what most fans, and even many people working in the industry, can claim. Meltzer has watched wrestling across different eras and countries, giving him something like a panoramic view of the sport. Cornette managed the Midnight Express, one of the most successful tag teams in American pro wrestling history. He has also worked extensively behind the scenes and owned and booked his own promotion.

You don’t have to like their criticism or their taste in wrestling. To hell with Dave’s star ratings. Who gives a crap if Corny is losing his mind over Speedball? But you need, at the very least, to recognize their authority to make wrong takes. You’d think they’d have that much standing, the way Stephen A. Smith has an established place in sports discourse, whether people agree with him or not. Yet in wrestling fandom, Meltzer and Cornette have factional legitimacy at best.

Factional legitimacy. That’s just a fancy buzz phrase I made to say that accomplished and learned scholars of graps, are only recognized by a minority of the wrestling world. A million subscribers does not represent mainstream wrestling fandom. Most mainstream fans could not care less about Shocker, and many have probably never seen a Midnight Express match. The AEW–WWE debate that violently dominates online wrestling discourse doesn’t come close to representing the whole audience. Meltzer and Cornette for all their knowledge only cater to a small segment of the general wrestling community, and by implication that means that the amount of fans who are not ignorant or illiterate are tiny compared to the ones who really just enjoy it.

The wrestling figures who seem to break through to that wider audience are often biographers and intimate chroniclers. Chris Van Vliet comes to mind. CVV is a wrestling personality and interviewer; fans come for his rapport with wrestlers and the personal stories they share. His interviews can preserve valuable firsthand history. Oral tradition of historical preservation, if you’d like. The stories give fans a way into the lives of wrestlers they already care about. They don’t necessarily lead audiences toward wrestling’s wider history or a shared language for discussing match concepts and tropes. That’s no knock on CVV or his work. Wrestling fans will consume personal stories and gossip about wrestlers and promotions. The relevance of match ideas, styles, and tropes across eras remains much more debatable for them. I can imagine three million people buying Becky Lynch’s book. Good. I have nothing against that. However, I don’t think three million people will buy Death of the Territories by Tim Hornbaker, which is sad and also scary because that’s not fringe history anymore. So that’s factional legitimacy in practice: a small part of the audience recognizes the historians and critics, while the broader fanbase remains largely outside that conversation or refuses to. I’m of the cynical inclination that it’s the latter.

The Usual Objections

If it’s the latter I guess you can cite a slew of reasons fans reject critics and historians. These are familiar objections. The first is that the critic has never taken a bump or held the book, so why listen to someone critiquing the sport when he’s never practiced it? Well, my own retort is that I don’t think a film critic knows what was said on the set of Titanic, either. Most great basketball analysts and journalists weren’t former professional stars. Yet I don’t see anyone calling David Halberstam or Jackie MacMullan hacks. It’s only in pro wrestling that the only people who can speak ill of the sport’s faults are the practitioners, and the rest of us should be piggies on the other side of the lane, waiting for our turn to ride. It’s a bullshit bad-faith argument that I don’t really see in other mediums. Imagine questioning Roger Ebert just because he didn’t direct a film. Incredible.

Another popular objection is bias. Are critics supposed to be unbiased? Correct me if I’m wrong, but critics evaluate and form opinions, and those opinions are subjective by nature. A critic’s bias becomes a problem when it goes unchallenged or when one voice is treated as the only legitimate one. That tells me two things: we need more critics, so one person’s perspective can be challenged by others; and we need fans to be more mature and accept that liking something doesn’t make it impervious to disagreement. My favorite example is that whole Kurt Angle debate that has been going on for years now, and it’s a fine example because it encapsulates why those two things I mentioned are important. So, there is this expectation that because Kurt Angle wrestled in one of the most popular eras of American wrestling, we’re supposed to give him every accolade out there, what’s worse is that we can’t even criticize or question Kurt’s range. Like this whole yearly debate is on whether or not Kurt is a technical guy, and I get it. He is and he isn’t. If we’re talking about technical skill then yes he is one of the most skilled wrestlers ever whether in professional wrestling or in Olympic wrestling, but if we’re talking about his presentation and his booking? He’s actually more of a big bombs guy that’s closer to pre-Poppa Pump Scott Steiner. Yes, that’s a beautiful, and educational conversation and it is one that can teach the listener so many things about in-ring craft and presentation, but we’ll never reach that part because immediately there is accusations of bias against Angle or lack of credibility to even have the gall to question his body of work. It’s stupid. And it’s why we need more critics willing to open up conversations like this so that it can pierce fan echo chambers, and conversely, why we also need more open-minded fans who won’t treat every piece of wrestling criticism like a fucking lynch mob.

Shame, Nostalgia, and What We Can Admit

I think there are also more subtle obstacles to why fans don’t want to make a deeper conversation out of wrestling. There’s this secret shame and guilt we feel when we try to be pro-wrestling fans openly. I’ve seen it with thine own eyes. Most wrestling fans are afraid to admit that they are passionate ones. Like this is where nostalgia comes in as a mask or a beard. Wrestling has a negative connotation that it’s for children, because it’s fake and only kids can get worked by the sport. Right, because theatre is legit. Anyway, so wrestling is fake and society says it is for kids. Therefore, most fans refuse to delve deeper into it because I guess there’s this sense of shame that they’re becoming too weirdly obsessed in a nice hobby. They use nostalgia as a convenient excuse, to the world and to themselves. Like here, you can tell your non-wrestling friends why you like Rock versus Hogan or Cena versus Umaga, and they can probably go along with you.

But try talking to them about who Necro Butcher is or Beer Money’s TNA run, or why you like Japanese wrestling, or RINGS early years, or even prime Ric Flair matches. All of a sudden, you’re gonna get these weird looks. Can you imagine if you start talking about the nuances of selling. Try doing that please, with the Jericho Learning Tree voice; “hey guys! Do you know what selling means?” it feels weird but it shouldn’t. And I guarantee you, majority of the mainstream wrestling fans feel this discomfort when they try to show more than just a rudimentary or acceptable level of passion.

Also, here’s another obvious thing: many wrestling fans got into the hobby through WWE. I’d be disingenuous if I said otherwise. I got into it through WWE too. The WWE philosophy is the only thing a large number of the fanbase knows. Most of us did not have that cool uncle who barged into our room shouting, “Young lad, today I’m going to make you watch Mil Máscaras because he’s cool.” No, a good chunk of fans started watching wrestling through WWE, and, like the people in The Matrix, many still stay inside its comfy bubble. And the thing with WWE is that it has presented its own reality of wrestling while simultaneously inhabiting an industry with other wrestling companies. There’s a correlation to why most fans are ignorant or illiterate and the scope of WWE’s dominion, their understanding of wrestling is based on WWE’s pronouncements. For the longest time, the fans only saw what WWE wanted them to see in terms of history and geography. This started to change by the 2000s when the internet developed enough for tape traders and smarks to have a decent platform to share their insights, in a way becoming online historians and critics. But even then the emotional attachment to a certain narrative or philosophy had become too great.

One of the chief difficulties of being a wrestling historian or critic is the inevitability that feelings will be hurt because of said emotional attachment. Criticism and historical facts tend to go against personal beliefs. So when critics and historians do their job of pointing something out about a certain wrestler or a certain match, instead of feeling a sense of wonder and awe, most mainstream fans will feel like it’s an attack on them. It’s a tricky thing really. Imagine watching a Triple H match with your brother, and it’s the last wrestling match you watched with him because he dies soon after. You hold on to that match or to Triple H because you associate them with your deceased brother. Now, imagine reading some blog or watching some person break down with nuance and detail why that match was dogshit and why Triple H is a terrible wrestler. Chances are, you’re going to raise walls against that critic or historian.

It’s weird but it does happen a lot. And what’s even weirder is that we have things like the Oscars or the Michelin Star system to single out work which may not appeal to the general public but is still recognized as top quality. The general public may disagree with those judgments, yet still acknowledge that the awards mean something. Wrestling has no comparable authority that the wider fandom recognizes. Any attempt to rate or distinguish work is too often treated as a personal attack on the fan’s taste.

Conclusion: It’s Not a Race, It’s a Siege

I can go on and on about why wrestling has a hard time fostering wider appreciation for its historians and critics. I can also go on and on about why something as basic as a shared understanding of wrestling history needs to be inculcated. But I think we all get the points I’m getting at.

The only real solution to all the questions I’ve raised is for those of us who care enough to preach and pontificate about these things to keep fighting the good fight and growing our numbers. We need more voices to break down the walls holding the fandom in. More writing about wrestling, more YouTube video essays, more social media posts about classic matches. More, more, more.

The more we love, the more we conquer. Ultimately, history and criticism are among the greatest acts of love because through them, we remember what might be forgotten and call out what should be called out. True love is memory undying and honesty unyielding.