I'm a Wrestling Fan, and I'm Proud of It
By Joe Foering

(continued)

For just as all seems right with the world the proceedings are interrupted yet again, this time by the arrival of the one and only "Nature Boy" Ric Flair. Flair is a true legend in the industry, a 16-time World Champion, and a man who at 50+ years of age is likely in better physical condition than many of us will ever be in our lives. More to the point, he's also someone who I watched in my younger days as he epitomized the term "the man you love to hate." For years he and his allies, collectively known as the Four Horsemen, ruled the roost as the villainous champions of the southern-based National Wrestling Alliance. And seeing him now, still electrifying the crowd with his words, sends nostalgic chills up my spine. For the house show set in Baltimore on that day looks eerily similar to what I had seen on those weekly syndicated NWA shows: no huge steel structures, no giant projection screens, and no elaborate pyrotechnics or video "packages." Just like it was when I watched in my living room as a youngster, there is little more to be seen than a ring, a plain steel barricade, and a fiendish blond-haired braggart, microphone in hand, cutting his adversary dead with his words.

Both Flair and Foley are involved in one of the feature bouts at WrestleMania XX in seven days, and both are determined to sell the match as best they can. While both men may have lost a step in the ring, both are still sharp as ever on the microphone. Both are on top of their game, and hearing these two trade barbs is a rare treat. When harsh words give way to the inevitable physical confrontation the crowd roars its approval as Foley tears into the Nature Boy — and I join right in. My head knows that this is "just" a show but my heart doesn't care one bit, and just like that I'm back to where I was as a kid, hoping that this would be the time that Ric Flair gets what's coming to him. And just like countless times on World Wide Wrestling, Flair evades justice, slipping out of the ring when the going gets too tough and trash-talking the hero as he makes his way back up the aisle. But Foley knows, as we all know, that in seven short days these men will meet again. And this time, my heart tells me, the Nature Boy won't get off so lightly.

The Main Event

The final match of the day features the reigning World Champion, an aggressive powerhouse known as Triple H (center). He is scheduled to take on veteran hero Shawn Michaels (left) and dour Canadian technical master Chris Benoit (right) in a "Triple Threat" match. The same match is scheduled to take place in seven short days as the main event of WrestleMania XX, so my head tells me that WWE history is not going to be made on this day with the crowning of a new champion. Even so, as the match progresses my heart comes to the fore again and I become more and more emotionally involved. My practiced cynicism melts away, and it's almost like I'm ten years old again. I swoon with the crowd at every near-pinfall; I rise to my feet with the crowd in anticipation when Benoit climbs to the top rope to deliver his patented flying headbutt; and like everyone else in the crowd my heart ultimately sinks when the ruthless HHH emerges victorious following his dreaded "Pedigree" maneuver. He leaves the ring awash in arrogant triumph, leaving his challengers bowed but unbroken; everyone knows they will meet again soon enough.

Thoughts After the Final Bell

Watching the matches of that day, in that setting, made me look at the term "professional wrestler" in a new way. Practically everyone we saw today was going to be involved in the biggest Pay-Per-View event of the year in seven short days-in fact, before that they'd all be heading up to Connecticut for the next evening's live RAW show on cable. Given the relatively sparse crowd and the importance of the next seven days, they could easily have gone through the motions and given us a safe and uneventful show. But these people are professionals in every sense of the word, and they worked just as hard for a crowd of 4,000 as they would for a worldwide Pay-Per-View audience of millions. Seeing it all up close, without the filtering element of a television screen, made me appreciate what they do all the more. But above all, and perhaps most basic of all, I had a good time. So did everyone else in the arena. There's nothing wrong with that, right?

Epilogue

As of this writing over six months have passed since March 7, and a lot has happened in that time. WrestleMania dos equis went off the following Sunday, and another of my self-imposed restrictions fell by the wayside as I ordered the event on Pay-Per-View. Once again the kid in me was denied justice as Ric Flair and his allies eked out a victory over the game Mick Foley and his movie star teammate The Rock. But my heart was satisfied in the end, as Chris Benoit avenged his defeat in Baltimore and topped off the evening by claiming the World Championship. He would keep the title for five months, a near-eternity in today's rapid-paced wrestling world, before dropping it to WWE's next rising star at the "SummerSlam" Pay-Per-View in August.

The weeks after 'Mania saw much change come to WWE. Two of the men who I saw wrestle that Sunday in Baltimore as "enhancement talents" (including the opening-match victim "Horshu") have gone on to become stars in their own right. At least seven of the wrestlers I watched that day, including Rico and Miss Jackie, now appear on the Smackdown! brand following a "trade." Both shows have revamped their rosters to keep the product fresh and appealing to fans old and new.

And what of me? Looking back, I realize that that afternoon house show helped me rediscover the joy of being a wrestling fan. So much so, in fact, that while I was writing this piece I secured tickets to the RAW house show that came to my hometown of Philadelphia in May. This time I even got to see my pen pal Kane in the flesh (he didn't appear in Baltimore) as he wrestled for the World Title. Two rows behind me, a twelve-year-old kid was gushing to his friends because he had met Kane backstage before the show. Despite the difference in our ages I see more than a little bit of myself in that happy kid, and the thought of that causes me to smile. From now on I can accept my fandom at face value. I don't have to worry about being lumped into a category, because wrestling fans come in all shapes and sizes, from all social strata, and from all walks of life. In all this I've come to realize the truth: I'm a wrestling fan, and I'm proud of it. And in the words of the immortal Diamond Dallas Page, that's not a bad thing… that's a good thing.