{"id":157551,"date":"2024-09-28T22:48:14","date_gmt":"2024-09-29T06:48:14","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/lukeford.net\/blog\/?p=157551"},"modified":"2024-09-29T14:14:44","modified_gmt":"2024-09-29T22:14:44","slug":"ringmaster-vince-mcmahon-and-the-unmaking-of-america","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/lukeford.net\/blog\/?p=157551","title":{"rendered":"Ringmaster: Vince McMahon and the Unmaking of America"},"content":{"rendered":"

Abraham Riesman (a male to female trans) writes in this 2022 book<\/a>:<\/p>\n

There is no art form more intrinsically and blatantly American \u2014 in its casual violence, its bombastic braggadocio, its virulent jingoism, its populist defiance of respectability, and its intermittently awe – inspiring beauty \u2014 than professional wrestling. This lucrative enterprise is not a legitimate competition, but it is indisputably an expression of creativity. Its practitioners have a time – worn saying: \u201cThis ain\u2019t ballet.\u201d But it\u2019s not that far from ballet: a kinetic method of storytelling, one that requires tremendous skill (and physical pain) to perform.
\n Although a wrestling match is infinitely customizable, the typical setup is as familiar as apple pie. Two wrestlers enter a raised square platform \u2014 the ring. Its floor is made of canvas and foam, stretched so tight that it looks like a hard surface but, in reality, left loose enough that it acts as a kind of weak trampoline. At each corner are metal ring posts, with thick elastic cords stretched around them. The wrestlers tussle inside the ring, grabbing each other for semi – choreographed, semi – improvised attacks, flips, and falls (\u201cbumps\u201d) that require cooperation and mutual expertise to execute. If the match isn\u2019t scripted as a draw for one reason or another, one of the wrestlers \u201cwins\u201d by either pressing their opponent\u2019s shoulders to the canvas until a referee counts to three (a \u201cpin\u201d), or by putting their opponent in enough fictional \u2014 or at least exaggerated \u2014 pain that they give up (a \u201csubmission\u201d).
\n There are, broadly speaking, two roles wrestlers can play in the ring: that of the face and that of the heel . \u201cFace\u201d is short for \u201cbabyface\u201d: the innocent, unblemished hero. The etymology of \u201cheel\u201d is more complicated, but one theory holds that the term has its roots in the Hebrew Bible, where Jacob grabbed his brother Esau\u2019s heel during their birth in an attempt to come out first and steal his twin\u2019s birthright.
\n Traditionally, fans are supposed to root for the face. But in wrestling \u2014 as is the case in much of the best fiction \u2014 the good guy isn\u2019t necessarily the protagonist. Just as important, and sometimes more so, is the heel, the one who seeks to get ahead through malice, who feeds off the hatred of the crowd, and who often gains the upper hand at the match\u2019s end, breaking the hearts of all who want to see justice done.<\/p>\n

* pro wrestling, with all its spectacle, is a lie \u2014 but that the lie encodes a deeper truth, discernible to those few who know how to look beyond what\u2019s in front of them. To those fans adept in reading the signs, another narrative emerges, and another beyond that. Suddenly, the pleasure of watching a match has less to do with who wins than with the excitement of decoding it.
\n Maybe a heel gets caught in a sex scandal, or is accused of beating his girlfriend; no matter, just have him own it as part of his gimmick. The fans may be offended by his continued presence on their screens, but their offense can only make him more successful \u2014 and there will always be those who respect him, even like him, for his \u201chonesty\u201d about his vices.
\n Neokayfabe exists in the tension not just between fantasy and reality, but also between revulsion and attraction, honor and hedonism, irony and earnestness. <\/p>\n

* Vince is likely the closest thing to a friend that Donald Trump has.<\/p>\n

* On the all – too – common occasions when wrestlers die of wrestling – related causes \u2014 painkiller overdose, steroid – related organ failure, traumatic brain injury, in – ring snafu, and the like \u2014 the wrestling community has a tendency to write the deaths off as the cost of the lifestyle. Amid the grief, there\u2019s a voice in the backs of fans\u2019 and colleagues\u2019 minds, telling them that the deceased knew what they were getting into when they sold their bodies to the Business. C\u2019est la vie, c\u2019est la guerre , the voice says.
\n But only a true sadist would assert that wrestlers\u2019 dead wives and girlfriends had it coming.<\/p>\n

* Informed government regulation of wrestling has never existed in America. There has never been a union for wrestlers. Wrestlers are not staffers; everything is freelance. There is no off – season. There is no employer – provided health insurance. The travel is relentless. In lieu of serious medical care, this physically grueling ecosystem has historically been a free – for – all of drink and drugs to ease the pain and bulk the body \u2014 all of it permitted by promoters. And the pay, as one might expect, is terrible in comparison to every other athletic industry of its size.
\n So, why bother? Here lies one of the grand, tragic ironies of wrestling: much like with ballet, in order to achieve success as a wrestler, you have to want it to a degree that is both inspiring and objectively unhealthy. You have to love it more than you love your own body and mind. Your love has to overcome your instincts for self – preservation, let alone self – interest. That love, once it burns, is hard to snuff out. It\u2019s the love that comes from athletic achievement and the gratitude of the audience, yes, but it\u2019s more than that.
\n \u201cSee, what a lot of people don\u2019t understand is, once you step in that ring, you\u2019re addicted,\u201d is how a former WWF grappler named Princess Victoria (Vickie Otis) once put it. Those words could be comfortably placed in the mouth of any wrestler. There\u2019s a particular chemistry, perhaps even a magic, in acting out a thrill – packed, physically exhausting pantomime of the human experience to thunderous cheers and boos. People talk about wrestling characters as successors to the flamboyant, archetypal gods of ancient myth. Imagine a job that lets you feel like Zeus.<\/p>\n

* It was August 10, 1977, and [Terry] Bollea was slated to have his in – ring debut in Fort Myers. He was getting a ride to the venue from two established grapplers then working in Florida, Buddy Colt (Ron Read) and, more importantly, Quebecois import Pat Patterson (Pierre Clermont), who would later go to the WWF and become a key staffer. Patterson was openly gay, and has often been held up as a trailblazer for queer representation in the industry, especially since his 2020 death.
\n However, he was also an alleged sexual harasser.
\n \u201cWe got you in the car \u2019cause we\u2019ve been chosen to initiate you tonight,\u201d Patterson allegedly told Bollea.
\n The younger man was confused.
\n \u201cWell,\u201d came Patterson\u2019s clarification, \u201cwe\u2019ve got about a hundred and fifty miles to go, and before you get to the arena, you have to give one of us a blow job.\u201d
\n The twenty – three – year – old Bollea protested: he wasn\u2019t gay and had no desire to do anything like that. He hoped for a punch line, but the older Patterson and Colt looked and sounded deadly serious.
\n \u201cI can\u2019t do this,\u201d Bollea told them. \u201cThis is fucked up.\u201d
\nAs is common for sexual harassment victims, he recalled feeling shame and terror: \u201cI just wanted to wrestle, and they took advantage of how serious and focused I was,\u201d he wrote. \u201cThey tortured me. It was the longest car ride of my life. On top of worrying about the match, how I\u2019d do, if I\u2019d look like a fool in front of a stadium full of people, they put this fear into me that they wouldn\u2019t let me wrestle at all if I didn\u2019t do this horrible thing.\u201d
\n The car got to the parking lot. \u201cOkay,\u201d said one of the older men (Bollea didn\u2019t specify which). \u201cSince you didn\u2019t give one of us a blow job before your match, we\u2019re gonna have to tell all the other guys that you failed your initiation. So after your match, in the shower in the locker room, everybody\u2019s gonna grab you and fuck you in the ass.\u201d
\n Bollea laced up his boots and overcame his dread to execute his twenty – minute match against B. Brian Blair (Brian Leslie Blair), \u201cand instead of basking in the moment of finishing my first match in this arena full of people, I\u2019m only thinking about one thing: Now I\u2019ve gotta go back in the dressing room and fight for my fucking life ,\u201d he wrote. \u201cI was shaking, practically bawling, thinking, I don\u2019t want to be a wrestler anymore .\u201d
\n As Bollea nervously opened the locker room door, he found all the wrestlers waiting with beers in their hands, shouting their congratulations at him for becoming one of them. It had all been a prank \u2014 a \u201crib,\u201d in the parlance of the Boys, and not even a particularly extreme one, on the scale of how these men can treat each other. After this hazing ritual, \u201cthe other wrestlers stopped treating me like some dumb – ass kid. For a moment at least, they treated me like one of their own.\u201d
\n But the trauma lingers: \u201cI didn\u2019t understand why they would do something like that,\u201d Bollea wrote. \u201cIt\u2019s still so weird to think about. Even now, it still upsets me.\u201d<\/p>\n

* Stossel just wanted to prove that wrestling was fake.
\n As the winter afternoon waned into evening on the 28th, the wrestlers arrived in the familiar MSG locker room. Among them was David Shults, who was putting his boots on when Vince arrived. As Shults later recounted, Vince told him, \u201cListen, we got a guy out here making a joke out of the business. I want you to go out and interview with him. Blast him. Tear his ass up. Stay in character, Dr. D.\u201d Even if this dialogue never happened, it didn\u2019t really need to \u2014 Shults, pro that he was, already knew that kayfabe had to be upheld at all costs. Protect the Business.
\n So Shults went out to talk with Stossel.
\n \u201cWhy are you called \u2018Dr. D\u2019?\u201d Stossel asked Shults from behind the camera, the film crew\u2019s bright lights casting a shadow onto the blank concrete behind Shults\u2019s skull.
\n \u201cWhy not?\u201d Shults replied, his eyes those of a killer. It went downhill from there.
\n Eventually, Stossel got to his point: \u201cI think this is fake,\u201d he said.
\n Later, Shults would recall the moment clearly, since it was the one that essentially led to the end of his career.
\n \u201cNow, I\u2019m thinkin\u2019, Vince wanted me to stay in character ,\u201d Shults would tell a reporter. \u201cDr. D would slap the hell out of somebody that said that.\u201d
\n And so, in character, Shults growled, \u201cYou think it\u2019s fake?\u201d and slapped Stossel on his left ear so hard that he would successfully win money for hearing damage in a later lawsuit. Stossel dropped to the floor, gripping the side of his head.
\n \u201cWhat\u2019s that?\u201d Shults asked. \u201cIs that fake? Huh? What the hell\u2019s wrong with ya?\u201d Stossel rose to his feet. \u201cThat\u2019s an open – hand slap, huh?\u201d Shults said. \u201cYou think it\u2019s fake, you son of a bitch?\u201d He slapped Stossel on the right ear, knocking him down once again.
\n Stossel jumped back up, and he and his crew scrambled away down the hall. Shults went to the ring to wrestle.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Abraham Riesman (a male to female trans) writes in this 2022 book: There is no art form more intrinsically and blatantly American \u2014 in its casual violence, its bombastic braggadocio, its virulent jingoism, its populist defiance of respectability, and its … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[42977],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-157551","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-wrestling"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/lukeford.net\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/157551","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/lukeford.net\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/lukeford.net\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lukeford.net\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lukeford.net\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=157551"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/lukeford.net\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/157551\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":157570,"href":"https:\/\/lukeford.net\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/157551\/revisions\/157570"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/lukeford.net\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=157551"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lukeford.net\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=157551"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lukeford.net\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=157551"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}