411's Countdown to WrestleMania 22: Wrestlemania - A Household Name

Posted by Scott Slimmer on 02.07.2006

The story of how Jimi Hendrix, Ray Bradbury, and Bobby "The Brain" Heenan shaped the way I look at Wrestlemania.

I'm proud to be a fan of professional wrestling. In fact, my love of professional wrestling is such an integral part of my life that I often take for granted that I actually feel pride in being a fan. However, recently I've begun to contemplate that pride on a far more frequent basis, and I always seem to be left with one simple question. Is being a fan of professional wrestling really something in which one should take pride? I've always associated pride with the achievement of a positive personal accomplishment. You can be proud that you graduated from college. You can be proud that you bought your first house. You can be proud that you raised a happy, healthy family. But can you be proud that you're a fan of professional wrestling? Being a fan isn't an accomplishment. Being a fan doesn't take years of hard work and sacrifice. Being a fan isn't the culmination of a lifelong dream. Being a fan doesn't seem like something in which one should take pride.

Don't get me wrong; there's certainly nothing wrong with being a fan of professional wrestling. Being a fan isn't immoral. Being a fan doesn't speak poorly of me as a person. Being a fan isn't something of which one should be ashamed. I'm not ashamed to be a fan of professional wrestling. I began this column by saying that my love of professional wrestling is such an integral part of my life that I often take for granted that I actually feel pride in being a fan, but lately I've come to realize that I take for granted much more than that. I take for granted that being a fan isn't immoral and that it doesn't speak poorly of me as a person. I take for granted that being a fan isn't something of which one should be ashamed, but that's certainly not a universally held opinion, is it? The majority of the general public believes that professional wrestling is something to be looked down upon. There are numerous stereotypes about professional wrestlers as well as their fans. The more open minded in the general public see professional wrestling as a guilty pleasure; the more judgmental see it as a sinful regression to mankind's basest nature.

My family and friends all know that I'm a fan of professional wrestling. It's not something I hide. It's not something I feel the need to hide. That being said, it's also not something that I often discuss with my family and friends who are not fans. They all know me as a whole person, and they know that being a fan is just one part of who I am. I think that most of them view the fact that I'm a fan as just another one of my interesting quirks, but by the same token it's still something they'd rather not discuss. When my mother's friends ask how I'm doing she always updates them on the progress I've made on my thesis research but never seems to mention that I also write an online column about professional wrestling. I suppose I understand her point of view. As I said, my family and friends know that being a fan of professional wrestling is just one part of who I am, but it's also an awkward subject to broach with someone who doesn't know me as well. I've learned never to mention it on a first date. That's a lesson I learned the hard way.

I've come to accept that the general public looks down upon professional wrestling and its fans. I've come to accept that my family and friends have come to terms with the fact that I'm a fan even though they probably wish that I wasn't. I've also come to accept that I'm always going to be a fan in spite of all that. At the end of the day, I'm not ashamed to be a fan, and no one can change that. I'm not entirely sure that I realized it until I typed it just now, but that's why I'm proud to be a fan. I'm proud that I'm able to stand by something I love in spite of it being misunderstood, laughed at, frowned up, and insulted by almost everyone that I know.

All of this may make it seem as though I'm saying that I simply don't care what everyone else thinks, but that's not entirely true. I suppose that in an ideal world I would be secure enough with myself and my beliefs that it truly would be inconsequential what other people thought of me, but I'm just not there yet. Sure, I continue to be a fan of professional wrestling in spite of most people's negative image of the industry, but I would be lying if I said I didn't wish things were different. I wish that I could walk into a party and make small talk about Samoa Joe like other people make small talk about the Chicago Bears or the UConn Huskies. I wish that my friends and I could walk into a bar on Friday night and see Smackdown! on every screen. I wish that one or two co-workers would stop by on a Monday morning to ask what I though of the pay-per-view the night before. It would be, well, nice.

I don't think anyone actually believes that these dreams of my will ever come to fruition. Not the wrestlers, not the writers, not the bookers, not the fans, not even Vincent K. McMahon himself. Vince McMahon has been on the receiving end of more negative criticism than just about anyone else in the history of this industry. Say what you will about him, but one thing he is not is a fool. I firmly believe that he knows professional wrestling will never be "mainstream," but he did have one idea for which he will always have my respect. Though he realized that professional wrestling will never by "mainstream" in the way the football and baseball and basketball are, Mr. McMahon had the vision to wonder if the industry he loved couldn't capture the spotlight for just one day a year. He called this vision "Wrestlemania."

People say that Wrestlemania is our Superbowl. I guess I can't argue with the analogy, and I suppose that's the easiest way for a non-wrestling fan to understand Wrestlemania. It's certainly the most important show of the year. It's quite often the culmination of the previous year's worth of storylines and feuds as well as the beginning of a whole new year's worth of mayhem and conflict. It's the one show a year that can make or break a wrestler's career on a single night. It's even the most financially profitable show of the year. Wrestlemania is all of those things, but to me it's also something more. Wrestlemania is the one day a year that professional wrestling is almost "mainstream." Not quite, but almost. "Wrestlemania" truly is a household name. Most people have never seen an episode of Raw or Smackdown! or Impact! They've probably never heard of the Royal Rumble or Summerslam or Survivor Series. But I think it's a safe bet to say that everyone has heard the name "Wrestlemania" at least once in their life.

Yes, Wrestlemania is indeed a household name, but it's even more than that. It's the one event a year in which the general public shows even the most mild of interest. My mother has been known to call me after Wrestlemania and ask how I enjoyed the show. I think it's the one time a year that she'll bring up the topic of professional wrestling on her own. Every year without fail I'll have one or two co-workers come up to me the day after Wrestlemania and ask me if anything interesting happened. You should see my eyes light up. Of course, then I have the difficult task of explaining to them the importance of matches between men that they've most likely never heard of, but that doesn't diminish my enthusiasm in the least. Those co-workers may not remember who won the matches I tell them about, but I hope they remember my enthusiasm and the sparkle in my eyes. I hope they remember that this business can be something truly exciting. I hope they remember the name, "Wrestlemania."

I have one co-worker that is at best a very casual wrestling fan. He knows about Stone Cold and the Rock and even remembers seeing Brock Lesnar in a collegiate tournament, but he certainly doesn't follow the current events and storylines. Anyway, we were at lunch one day and someone brought up professional wrestling. I monopolized the conversation for a couple of minutes, but then this guy spoke up. He told a story about walking into a bar in March of 2002 and getting to watch The Rock and Hogan tear down the house. That right there is the power of Wrestlemania. It's the one show a year that even the most casual of fans will remember. It's the one show a year that they'll talk about later.

I said that Wrestlemania has been called our Superbowl, but for me it's more like Woodstock or Burning Man. Hogan vs. Andre was our version of Hendrix's National Anthem. Madison Square Garden has been our Black Rock Desert on three occasions. It's a gathering together of outsiders that the mainstream public recognizes but doesn't necessarily understand. That's fine. We get a little bit of mainstream press. We get a little bit of attention. We get to show everybody else the beauty and splendor of this thing we love.

I'm reminded every year of Ray Bradbury's short story "All Summer in a Day." In the story, an extremely rainy planet Venus has been colonized by human explorers. It rains constantly, and in fact the sun only comes out for one hour once every seven years. School children are fascinated by the event; many of them have never even seen the sun. When the sun finally does emerge from the clouds the children go outside and dance and play and live more in an hour than they do in whole years. That's Wrestlemania to me. It's our day in the sun. It's the day that I'm most proud to be a fan of professional wrestling.

Maybe Bobby "The Brain" Heenan summed it up best in his speech the night he was inducted into the WWE Hall of Fame. He had the following to day about Wrestlemania I in 1985:

"Boy, I thought, ‘This isn't going to work.' You got Muhammad Ali. You got Billy Martin. You got the Rockettes. Mr. T. This has become a carnival. A lot of the boys said, ‘Yeah, it's not right.' And then we looked out that night, and there's Cyndi Lauper, and there's Dick Clark, and there's Spike Lee, and the press is all over the place. I said, ‘This guy's got his finger on something. He knows what he's doing.' And it worked. It really worked. And we became respectful people. We were no longer considered one step behind the roller derby or a circus clown. People said, ‘You guys are great performers. What great shows you're putting on.' It made us feel proud. It made us feel like we were really something."

Amen, Bobby. Amen.

I'm proud to be a fan of professional wrestling every day of the year. I'm guessing that most of you reading this column feel the same way. But when we look forward to Wrestlemania we're not just looking forward to the biggest show of the year. We're looking forward to the one day a year that we can take just a little bit more pride in this thing that we love. Once a year we get our day in the sun. Once a year we get to share this strange little beast we call professional wrestling with the rest of the world. Once a year we get Wrestlemania. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.