The Death of Pro Wrestling

The kids love it. Parents will spend hundreds of dollars on Pay Per View events each month. It is now practically a monopoly, and possibly bigger than ever. What is it? It's pro wrestling, of course, and it seems to be out of control.

When I was a kid I thought it was real. I loved it. How could a four year old not find something about Hulk Hogan to be completely electric? It was what I wanted to be when I grew up. Boxing seemed too bloody, sweaty and brutal. In the early 1980's, pro wrestling seemed like fun. It was almost like a circus, with large crowds, and outrageous competitors. There were heroes and villains.

It seemed like no more than fun and games...

Someone my age couldn't possibly understand the seriousness behind the steroid situation that existed in pro sports. The sad part is that steroids weren't where the ball stopped rolling. As a child all I saw was the gallant persona my heroes presented to the camera. I saw them maybe once or twice a week, unaware that most of them were battling it out in the ring six or seven times more than that.

People say that pro wrestling is fake. I beg to differ. Pro wrestling is staged. There is technique involved in every maneuver performed inside the squared circle. But even that can't stop the pain of being smashed, trashed and pounded six days a week.

In comes the 1990's, and out go the heroes and villains. Instead, wrestling became a contest of over the top personalities. There were no good guys or bad guys any longer. Wrestlers were increasingly toned to the peak of physical fitness, and the number of Pay Per Views was escalating dramatically.

The war between companies became nasty. It was inevitable that the lighthearted circus of the 80's had to be replaced by the nonstop action that wrestling has morphed into today. Wrestling has the potential to be bigger than ever before. Now everyone who steps in that ring is a superstar.

One would think the industry was attempting to compensate for all the legends of the past, which left us at ages far too young. I won't name anyone here, but so many of the people we call legends that I grew up watching are gone. Some passed at ages around fifty years, some as young as forty, some around their thirties. Tragically men have passed away at ages even younger than that.

The strain of competing day in and day out, as part of an industry that has perhaps become too large, must be overwhelming. Wrestlers, by their very work schedule, are practically forced to take painkillers. Many legends suffered fatal heart attacks. I have personally watched, on my television, the wreck some of their lives became, right in the ring, sometime before the end.

I'll drop no names, but when seeing bad things happen in the ring, things that so obviously weren't in the script or staged, an unsettling feeling comes over me. It's a feeling of inevitability. At once I can almost tell when a certain superstar will either end up behind bars, or someplace worse. Almost as bad are the instances when I am completely taken by surprise by tragic developments.

Because of these developments, I no longer watch pro wrestling. The fun has gone out of it for me. Perhaps in growing up I no longer see the circus, but instead I see the terrible pain any single maneuver must surely cause the competitors. Perhaps I can only imagine the necessity behind making the pain disappear, so that these people can feed their children.

I suppose the majority of competitors will always escape with their lives intact. But there is nothing that can make up for those who failed to live through the experience. I for one would rather they never made it in front of a TV camera, if it meant they could have a second chance at life.

For me, the death of these individuals was the death of wrestling.