Ive been in an alternate reality for five hours. It reminded me a little bit of The Bachelor, in that theres a rough script and, as a viewer, you dont know exactly how much is staged. But the wrestlers and the fans are both so thoroughly invested that none of that matters.
The physicality of wrestling is stunning. These people perform mind-blowing feats of athletic ability they corkscrew off the ropes, they jump off of stories-high ladders, they lift up 300-pound opponents and yet, I dont think they get the credit they deserve from the general public because its wrestling. It cant be real, some folks argue.
But let me tell you: The winners may be decided, but holy hell, that doesnt make the stunts less superhuman. I dont know how people survive this.
The violence is ... a lot. In the beginning of the show I couldnt watch the beat downs without imagining what it felt like to receive them. My hand was over my eyes for much of it, specifically during Seth Rollins match. By the end, however, I watched Roman Reigns bash Taker with a chair and thought more about the plot of Takers career ending than I did about his body getting absolutely destroyed. I grew somewhat immune to the violence. And Im not sure thats a good thing? Like, I feel a little gross.
But that grossness is cancelled out by the fact that, more so than violence, nostalgia is the WWEs main commodity.
Thats what this is all about. As someone just dropping in, I was an imposter. I regretted that I couldnt fully appreciate the beauty of the relationships or the narrative arcs because I just didnt know enough. But if you grew up a wrestling fan or have been following the sport (yes, its a sport) for a while, you become invested in the storylines. You have years worth of build up, tension that comes to a climax when the matches are announced, and gets released as the referee counts to three and a winner is crowned (belted?). The announcers do an incredible job of fueling those dramatic fires.
Any good sport worth its salt is largely about fans connection to the athletes and memories of past teams. Wrestling takes all of that, adds raw human impulses and violent physical action, dresses everything up in spandex and sequins, and sells it to football stadiums filled with screaming humans who are willing to suspend their disbelief to enter a weird, wild, mystical world that isnt a far cry from one giant Greek tragedy.
And as long as everyone fans and performers alike is a willing participant, theres something kind of glorious about the whole visceral experience. This is living.
