Wrestling for Non-Fans: WWE Network and the Post-Blow-Off Era

Nothing happens in the wrestling world without controversy. Wrestling fans are some of the most obnoxious know-it-alls in the world of geeks but their abrasiveness is tempered by their loyalty. They complain because they care. Mostly, I think they're like heroin junkies chasing their first high; smarks are always looking to recreate the thrill they got when they first saw the storyline that got them hooked.

The WWE Network is the newest controversy, finally shutting up the fans that were disappointed that mediocre-but-well-known wrestler Batista returned and took the main event at Wrestlemania.

The network is, I think, an exciting development, not just in the world of wrestling but for television in general. The WWE is attempting a large-scale internet outlet, offering archived material, new programming and, most importantly, their pay-per-views, for ten dollars a month. The network will offer a 24-a-day broadcast-style channel and an on-demand library.

In typical smark fashion, the complaints run from appallingly stupid to actually pretty smart. Some are concerned with the little alterations that come from problems with music licensing or swear-bleeping. Others are rightfully concerned about the WWE's tendency to change history--famous little mistakes being erased.

A more practical--and unavoidable--problem is that the network is unable to present new episodes of its cable shows until a month after they air. This is due to their deals with the USA and Spike networks and it puts a real crimp in the network's effectiveness in engaging viewers with what's going on right now.

My personal concern--above my general antipathy towards the WWE--is that the archived material isn't as extensive as it could be. Back when the promotion was taking over the world, Vince McMahon showed a lot of prescience. Instead of letting rival promotions collapse into obscurity, he bought them, which meant he owned their video material. The WWE basically owns the history of wrestling.

So far, they've done a good job repackaging that material. The WWE documentary series is generally excellent, if you get over the aforementioned alteration of history (but that's what smarks are for, anyway). But it appears that the documentaries and the original, raw programs (the weekly shows that other promotions ran) aren't on the network in the large numbers that they could be. I'm more interested in watching old stuff.

This article in Vice brings up another question that's been nagging at me:  What does the network mean for the storyline structure?

Back when wrestling was a spectator entertainment rather than a televised entertainment, the idea was that the promotion did small shows all around the circuit, building up storylines. The storyline would set up a big show in a major city, where scores would be settled and heels would get their comeuppance. The smaller shows were promotions for big arena shows.

Early wrestling television followed the same policy. In between matches, the wrestlers would get on the microphone and tell the audience about the next big event.

Vince McMahon had a bigger idea. He took that model and married with a now-forgotten technology--closed-circuit programming. I don't know the mechanics, but major boxing events and one-time specials like Evel Knievel's Snake Canyon jump, were piped into theaters and other places that charged admission to watch the live broadcast. Using that format, McMahon created Wrestlemania.

Wrestlemania is the one wrestling event that nearly everyone has heard of. It's the wrestling Super Bowl; in truth, it's just the biggest big-show of the wrestling business model. The period after the real Super Bowl is Wrestlemania season and, for three months, the promotion builds up the excitement, driving fans into a frenzy wondering what is going to happen there.

The first two Wrestlemanias were offered via closed-circuit and were successful enough that they didn't break the company as they could have (it was a huge gamble for McMahon) but Wrestlemania III was the watershed.

III was the first offered via pay-per-view through cable systems and thus was the first blow-off event (bringing feuds to a climax) available in fans' homes. It was an enormous moneymaker and the WWE found its business model.

Again, this was taking the old format, small shows promoting one big show, and adjusting it to fit a national audience.

The WWE eventually built up its pay-per-view schedule so that there are twelve a year, roughly one a month, and has that format down to a science. The stakes of the pay-per-views from January to April all revolve around Wrestlemania matches--who will face off in the main event?  Who will get to challenge for the various titles? The weekly cable shows all build up to the monthly pay-per-views.

Here's where the WWE Network comes in. The regular pay-per-views cost cable subscribers around $40-50; Wrestlemania is $60 or more. The new network offers those specials included in its $10-a-month subscription.

Some of the smarks are hollering their mantra, "They're leaving money on the table!" They're assuming that all the people that bought the PPVs on cable are going to switch to the network and then the promotion will lose all that money. This is pretty shallow thinking.

For one, do they think that a company with a 2.7 billion market cap is just going to change its strategy on whim, without thinking? The WWE is taking a gamble, sure, but they've probably thought long and hard about it.

I think they're probably trying to atomize their market. Because of the cost of  PPV, most fans don't buy them to watch by themselves. At $10 a month, they can. By lowering the cost, they're opening the market to individual buyers who can watch on their phones, computers or televisions.

They've also taken a lesson from other online media. While some people will always pirate their entertainment, most consumers who pirate do so when there is no other online outlet. iTunes and Netflix showed this to be the case. And WWE PPVs are heavily pirated--the network is a way to harness those viewers.

(In addition, the WWE's business is not reliant on PPV revenues. It has so many other streams that this one can stand some destablilizing.)

But what the Vice article brings up and what has been on my mind is this:  Won't this have an impact on wrestling's fundamental model? The structure for 60+ years has been storylines promoting the big blow-off show.

Theoretically, no. There will still be cable shows promoting the PPVs. But the company's motivation to make every PPV successful is drained--network subscribers are paying whether the storylines are hot or not.

This can be a good or bad thing. For one, taking the pressure off can remove the edge of hysteria that tinges the lesser PPVs. It could also correct one of the biggest faults of the medium's format, rushing storylines. Not being driven to make the end of the month count in a big way every time could allow more complex and dynamic stories to emerge.

If the positives are going to happen, it will probably be after an extended period of limpness. The WWE has had a writing problem for a long time. The staff is too small, for one, and divided between work-for-hire television writers, who don't usually have a wrestling background, and long-time wrestling insiders. The writing is centrally controlled by Vince (though less so these days) and his daughter Stephanie and her husband, wrestler Triple H. (I think they'd be better off following the Law & Order model, by which the different brands are managed by individual executive producers who have the next best thing to final authority.)

I imagine that, if the network takes off, we'll see the urgency of the stories decline for some time before someone with pull on the inside catches on to the possibilities of a post-blow-off era.

Wrestling for Non-Fans: Kayfabe Broken

Twenty-five years ago, the WWE did the unthinkable:  They admitted that wrestling was fake. Well, they didn't use that word--the proper term is pre-determined.

One could make the argument that the characters of the 80s had finally broken credulity, with Elvis impersonators and Ugandan giants and warriors in made-up face paint. How much longer could they pretend that these were real people who were out in the world when not settling scores in the squared circle?

But the real reason was more practical:  The WWE was tired of paying athletic commission fees. The status quo involved a lot of cutting red tape and cutting checks, all to maintain an illusion that no one over thirteen believed.

It's called the end of the kayfabe era. Kayfabe is carny-talk for "fake." Before the WWE made its announcement, fans were led to believe that the wrestlers were their characters and their feuds were real. When a performer was injured in a storyline, he wore a cast in his daily life, too.

The consolidation of the news media made it harder and harder to maintain the facade. In the 70s, a plane carrying future superstar Ric Flair crashed, carrying a mix of heels (bad guys) and babyfaces (good guys). In the interest of keeping kayfabe, the heels were listed under their real names rather than their wrestling handles. Closer to the reveal, the Iron Sheik and Jim Duggan, who were engaged in a feud at the time, were arrested together on marijuana charges--this peek behind the curtain was better publicized.

It was only a matter of time before kayfabe was shattered on its own, so the WWE decided to get ahead of the curve, leaving rival promotions gasping in horror and surprise. For a time, the rivals tried to pretend that, yeah, WWE wrestling was fake, but we're the real deal.

It didn't last because their gimmicks were just as ridiculous as the WWE's. More interesting is how they tried to handle the expanded palette they were given, like this pathetic mini-movie setting up a feud:

But it was only a matter of time before the dynamics came together. The following are three stories from the worked-shoot era, in which real events (shoots) are turned into in-ring gimmicks (works).

Brian Pillman

As always, the story behind Pillman's double-cross/brilliant maneuver is full of speculation and rumor. But the general story is this:  Pillman, knowing his injuries were coming faster and more debilitating, knew that his days in wrestling were coming to an end, before he'd gotten a big payday. He concocted a scheme developed somewhat in conjunction with booker (head writer, of a sort) Kevin Sullivan at WCW.

Pillman started behaving erratically, both on-screen and in the locker room. He developed a reputation as a "loose cannon," making both fans and his own co-workers unsure of his motivations. In the most famous incident, he and Sullivan were engaged in a storyline feud that was to be settled in a strap match. The two wrestlers were to be attached to the same strap, so that they were always close, and battle until one gave up by professing "I respect you."

Before the match could even begin, Pillman flew into the ring and began beating Sullivan. When others intervened and Pillman could finally take hold of the strap, he grabbed the microphone and said, "I respect you, bookerman," and walked out of the building.

Everyone was confused. Had Pillman just bombed the storyline and ruined the match? The fans--more importantly, the other wrestlers--didn't know what was going on. Had Pillman gone off the deep end?

Sullivan was excited by the prospect of fooling even wrestling insiders, as we'll see, so he encouraged Pillman's act. But Pillman had a plan. He convinced WCW that, if they wanted the work to look real, they should release him from his contract, citing his erratic behavior.

They agreed and Pillman promptly took his high profile to WWE, where he signed a fat contract and entered wrestling history.

Kevin Sullivan's Love Triangle

This one would have been funny if it didn't eventually end in tragedy.

Kevin Sullivan, it's said, was amazed at the success Brian Pillman had pulling a work over the locker room. He wanted to do it himself, so he booked an angle in which young wrestler Chris Benoit was having an affair with Sullivan's wife Nancy, known as Woman.

Sullivan wanted the locker room to believe in the affair so much that he began scheduling Nancy and Benoit to travel and room together on the road. After a while, the inevitable happened:  the staged affair became real. Nancy and Sullivan split up and the locker room joked that Sullivan had "booked his own divorce."

As you might have figured out, though, it was Nancy who Benoit murdered, along with their son, nearly a decade ago.

Mr. McMahon

The "Montreal Screwjob" is a subject for another day (and covered in the film Wrestling With Shadows) but here it is in a nutshell:  Long-time top WWE wrestler Bret "The Hitman" Hart was leaving for WCW. However, he was holding the championship belt as his contract expired. Vince McMahon wanted Hart to drop the belt at a pay-per-view event in Montreal. The problem was, Hart was a Canadian hero--he refused to lose the match in his home country. He offered to give up the championship the next night on television but that didn't fit in with McMahon's plans.

What happened next is wrestling's version of the Kennedy assassination but the facts are that Hart and contender Shawn Michaels went through their routine. At one point Michaels had Hart in a submission hold. McMahon ran out to the ring and demanded that the bell ending the match be rung, effectively saying that Hart had submitted and lost the match. There's no denying that all the players, referee Earl Hebner included, looked confused and upset. It appeared that Hart had the belt stolen from him.

There was an uproar among the wrestlers and the fans so the next night, McMahon appeared on the Monday night show to address their concerns. Hart had gotten so upset backstage that he punched McMahon and a black eye was visible as the promoter announced that he hadn't double-crossed Bret, "Bret screwed Bret."

McMahon's previous appearances on-screen were as an announcer, not the owner. Having earned the animosity of the fans, McMahon now had heel heat--fans were willing to pay good money to see his face rubbed in the dirt.

McMahon was now a character, Mr. McMahon, an evil billionaire who loved to toy with his wrestlers, torturing them, making them kiss his ass (literally) and yelling, "You're fi-ired!" He became a big enough heel to launch one of wrestling's greatest stars, "Stone Cold" Steve Austin. It was the beginning of the WWE's most successful epoch, the "Attitude Era."

What the Non-Fan Should Know About What We Think of Hulk Hogan

Wrestling fandom is a strange beast. Most fans get really excited about the product as children and then lose interest in their late teens. But many--and more every year--either never stop being fans or return once they've figured out the world of relationships and personal finance.

But wrestling, like superhero comics, is a limited medium. There are only so many stories that can be told when it's necessary to punctuate the arc with fighting. Storylines tend to repeat with minor variations and different characters. Extended fandom requires another level of understanding.

This is where the smarks come in. The old term for the audience, true believers that wrestling was "real," is marks (coming from old carny talk). When an individual learns that the matches are predetermined, it's said that he's been smartened up. Thus, a smark is a smart mark--a fan that thinks he knows what's really going on.

What's going on backstage is usually very interesting. Because wrestling being "fake" used to be a secret, the politics in the locker room were secret as well. If sunlight is the best disinfectant, then darkness is where things get rotten.

And wrestling politics in the kayfabe era (when the feuds were promoted as being real) was definitely rotten. It created a culture of backstabbing, favoritism and industry politics that carries over today. It's this backstage maneuvering that get smarks excited. They scrutinize the product for indications of locker room attitudes. Why did they make this wrestler look like a chump when the crowd loves him? Why is that wrestler always in the running for a belt when he's terrible?

Which brings us to this Buzzfeed article, Hulk Hogan Returning To The WWE Is The Greatest Thing To Ever Happen. Hulk Hogan is the wrestler smarks love to hate.

In a nutshell, the knock against Hogan is that he's only ever in it for himself. Hogan is the one wrestler that nearly every one in the world knows. He's used that power to enhance his own image in the industry (and his paycheck), get jobs for his washed-up cronies, prop up his non-wrestling ventures and squash anyone who's a threat to his self-perception that he is the top guy. Not to mention he's a terrible wrestler.

The fact that he's returning to the WWE is less a coup for the promotion than an indication that the WWE is on an upswing. One of the axioms of the business is that its success is cyclical. The big WWE explosion of the 80s faded until the mid-90s, when competing promotion WCW became hot. The WWE parlayed that heat to develop the "Attitude Era," which was even bigger than Hogan's 80s heyday. Hogan's reputation is that he arrives on the scene just as a promotion is starting to pop, gets a big paycheck and then steals away the moment ratings start to slip. Hogan is nothing if not savvy; this way, he looks as though he's the reason for the success and his absence is the reason for the decline.

If you aren't a wrestling fan, you won't hear any more about his return. You'll see a few shallow, goofy articles like that in Buzzfeed, shrug your shoulders and move on. But, if you want some entertainment, check into the IWC's (Internet Wrestling Community) reactions.