Before I begin, I should probably let you know that I’m aware wrestling is staged. I’m not a 25-year old man still residing in la-la-land where wrestling is real and nothing is scripted, I’ve known the truth since I was an eight year-old boy whose slightly older cousin ruined it for him. I’m still a little pissed about that, Steve, but I still wish you well as a newlywed, you and Nicole are great together.
I know WWE has a creative team and I know half of their names. As a viewer over the past 19 years, I’ve been more of an analyst of the product of professional wrestling than I have been a fan. I get frustrated when their employees wrestle a crappy match, even more annoyed when they tell a crappy story, and absolutely furious when they give Triple H another title reign so people will put him and Ric Flair in the same conversation.
But more than anything, I’ve been unable to completely abandon a product that was such a significant part of my childhood. Nowadays, I often lose touch with what the wrestling business puts on television week in and week out, but as I’ve grown older I’ve realized one truth about my relationship with professional wrestling that will stand for as long as I am alive. View full article »