Don't Mess Around With God's America!
When I first fell in love with this unique art form twenty years ago, I must admit - I was an odd little wrestling fan.
First off, I never thought it was real. Not even for a split second. But it's not like I ever thought of it as "fake" either. I just never viewed it in those terms - they seemed weirdly inappropriate for what I was watching. To me, calling wrestling "fake"would be like watching Thundercats and saying "There aren't really talking half-man/half-cats on Third Earth." I mean, everyone knows that the oxygen/nitrogen ratio of the Third Earth atmosphere couldn't support a talking cat. I mean, a man/dog yes, or perhaps man/parakeet hybrid, but a man/cat? It's just silly. That's just stone cold science. But the point is - I never understood why people would call wrestling "fake"? Is a kung fu movie "fake"?
As a result, I never had that heart-breaking "Santa isn't real" moment when the facade of wrestling was exposed. Although if I was still a believer, I think the moment would have been when The Rockers were running down the aisle to fight the Fabulous Rougeau Brothers (an underrated team, which I'll get into another day) and I noticed that Shawn Michaels' cheeks were puffed out like he had a mouthful of Mr. Pibbs. A few minutes later, the Rougeaus smacked him in the mouth with Jimmy Hart's megaphone... causing an eruption of fake blood to spout out of Michaels' mouth. One of the fakest looking things I'd seen in wrestling. And THAT, ladies and germs, is a statement.
Another way in which I was a weird little kid is that I absolutely hated patriotic gimmicks. Whenever a chant of "USA! USA!" broke out, I reached for my barf bag covered in Care Bears stickers. Not only did it seem like pandering to me, but it attacked even my childhood sense of logic.
In my mind, the most egregious offender was one man: "Hacksaw" Jim Duggan. If you'll remember, Duggan debuted in the WWF by running into the ring every time Nikolai Volkoff would try to sing the Russian national anthem. The great American Duggan showed his support of our country's precious ideal of free speech by smacking Volkoff across the back with a 2x4. The "pro-America" crowds would go wild. Even at age 10, the irony was not lost on me.
And neither was it lost on Jesse "The Body" Ventura, who was supposed to be the "bad guy" commentator. He would try to convince Gorilla Monsoon that Volkoff was merely exercising his free speech. Even though he was supposed to be the "good guy" authoritative voice of reason, Monsoon had no answer. Not to overestimate the effect of "Hacksaw" Jim Duggan, but I think that perhaps a few seeds of my adult anti-jingoism and mistrust of the contradictions of patriotism were planted in those halcyon days. That, and a healthy hatred for Gorilla Monsoon.
Man, I hated that guy. At the last show at the Boston Garden before they tore it down and built the Fleetcenter, Gorilla Monsoon came out and gave a little heartfelt speech about the venue and the great Boston fans. I booed the living crap out of him. Everyone in my section hated me. But in my mind, I was just exercising my free speech.
I'm lucky no patriots were around to hit me with lumber.
First off, I never thought it was real. Not even for a split second. But it's not like I ever thought of it as "fake" either. I just never viewed it in those terms - they seemed weirdly inappropriate for what I was watching. To me, calling wrestling "fake"would be like watching Thundercats and saying "There aren't really talking half-man/half-cats on Third Earth." I mean, everyone knows that the oxygen/nitrogen ratio of the Third Earth atmosphere couldn't support a talking cat. I mean, a man/dog yes, or perhaps man/parakeet hybrid, but a man/cat? It's just silly. That's just stone cold science. But the point is - I never understood why people would call wrestling "fake"? Is a kung fu movie "fake"?
As a result, I never had that heart-breaking "Santa isn't real" moment when the facade of wrestling was exposed. Although if I was still a believer, I think the moment would have been when The Rockers were running down the aisle to fight the Fabulous Rougeau Brothers (an underrated team, which I'll get into another day) and I noticed that Shawn Michaels' cheeks were puffed out like he had a mouthful of Mr. Pibbs. A few minutes later, the Rougeaus smacked him in the mouth with Jimmy Hart's megaphone... causing an eruption of fake blood to spout out of Michaels' mouth. One of the fakest looking things I'd seen in wrestling. And THAT, ladies and germs, is a statement.
Another way in which I was a weird little kid is that I absolutely hated patriotic gimmicks. Whenever a chant of "USA! USA!" broke out, I reached for my barf bag covered in Care Bears stickers. Not only did it seem like pandering to me, but it attacked even my childhood sense of logic.
In my mind, the most egregious offender was one man: "Hacksaw" Jim Duggan. If you'll remember, Duggan debuted in the WWF by running into the ring every time Nikolai Volkoff would try to sing the Russian national anthem. The great American Duggan showed his support of our country's precious ideal of free speech by smacking Volkoff across the back with a 2x4. The "pro-America" crowds would go wild. Even at age 10, the irony was not lost on me.
And neither was it lost on Jesse "The Body" Ventura, who was supposed to be the "bad guy" commentator. He would try to convince Gorilla Monsoon that Volkoff was merely exercising his free speech. Even though he was supposed to be the "good guy" authoritative voice of reason, Monsoon had no answer. Not to overestimate the effect of "Hacksaw" Jim Duggan, but I think that perhaps a few seeds of my adult anti-jingoism and mistrust of the contradictions of patriotism were planted in those halcyon days. That, and a healthy hatred for Gorilla Monsoon.
Man, I hated that guy. At the last show at the Boston Garden before they tore it down and built the Fleetcenter, Gorilla Monsoon came out and gave a little heartfelt speech about the venue and the great Boston fans. I booed the living crap out of him. Everyone in my section hated me. But in my mind, I was just exercising my free speech.
I'm lucky no patriots were around to hit me with lumber.
posted by BJ Boston at 2:42 PM
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