When it comes to World Wrestling Entertainment, I find that anymore, I apparently have what therapists and Youtube commenters call “Trailer Park Wife Syndrome”. Meaning that no matter how poorly I’m treated, and no matter how much I get beaten mercilessly, I find myself making like Lzzy Hale and missing the misery. I come crawling back, thinking this time they’ve learned their lesson, and BAM! Backhand straight to the face, followed by the age old command of “shut up and make me a sammich, bitch!”. Nobody learned anything, everybody keeps telling me I’m better off, but for some reason, I just keep coming back.
I’d thought for sure after watching Wrestlemania30 that WWE had finally learned their lesson. Daniel Bryan finally got his spot in the main event after exceptionally vocal backlash convinced WWE that nobody wanted to see Dave Batista as the only challenger for the title, Brock Lesnar had the always awesome Paul Haymen (I can never remember how that’s spelled) speaking on his behalf, and John Cena was finally bumped down to the mid card. Yeah, he’s still there, still overcoming the odds in predictable fashion, but somehow, it’s not as insufferable and annoying when it’s the midcard. Also, he was feuding with Bray Wyatt, head of the totally not satanic cult known as The Wyatt Family. I could listen to that guy read the phonebook.
Sure, Daniel Bryan got injured a month later, was out of action for a year, and Cena ended up becoming the place holder champion till Brock Lesnar eventually suplexed him to death, like, a month later, but I figured once Bryan got off the injured list, things would be back to normal. Yeah, no, Bryan got demoted down to intercontinental status, and had to take part in that seven-way clusterfuck of an intercontinental title match. Meanwhile, Roman Reigns, a man nobody wanted to see win the royal rumble, went on to fight Brock Lesnar. And because the WWE loves their underdog stories apparently, Roman Reigns, a six-foot-six tank of a man, was supposed to be this guy who had to defy the odds and overcome adversity. And frankly, he was really lucky Brock Lesnar was his opponent, or else it’d be even less believable than it already was. Lesnar is a beast, pure and simple. This guy dug a tunnel straight to hell simply by punching the ground, and when he got there, he walked right up to Satan, and declared, “Get off my throne, bitch!”. But even then, he could only be so imposing compared to a guy that was about the same size, the same build, and with more hair.
I didn’t even bother ordering Wrestlemania31. 30 was such a great show, only for the WrestleMania the very next year to showcase how WWE creative learned absolutely nothing from last time. It’s actually quite infuriating, because I know for a fact that sometime in January, I’m going to start watching the show again to see what sort of trainwreck is waiting for me at 32. It’s especially sucky because there’s no alternative to WWE anymore. Not with my cable service anyway. TNA is still out there, but apparently, my cable service doesn’t carry that channel anymore. Although I heard something about them losing, like, a third of their talent last year due to either budget cuts, or idiotic handling of their contracts. Maybe both?
So yeah, guess it’s back to Fire Pro Wrestling till January or something. I’ll get to see all those old characters I’ve been trying to re-recreate now that I have a PS3 copy, but it’s worth it when I get around to it.
Seeing all those old creations reminds me of the stories I’d tried to write about those characters. About the short story anthology I mentioned in this series about two years ago that unfortunately got deleted before I could proofread it. It reminds me of a few other stories I’ve written since featuring some of those characters I tried to get published, and had no luck in. And it reminds me of other attempts I’ve made in the past.
Back around 1999-2000, wrestlers were putting out autobiographies like EA was putting out sports games. Mick Foley had gotten the ball rolling with his book, and it was… Well, I wouldn’t say chaos, but suddenly, all the top guys were writing books. I talked about that LXW anthology like it was my first attempt, but in truth, it wasn’t. I’d attempted to write wrestling stories in the past long before that point. It’s just that compared to now, my skills have improved tremendously.
The first time, I tried writing from the perspective of a guy by the name of Tony. He wasn’t very remarkable in hindsight, and I ended up writing more about his friends and their goings on than I ever did about him. That right there was probably why I pulled the plug on that project. It’s always bad when side characters have a more interesting story than the main character. Go ahead and make them interesting, but don’t distract from the main plot.
Somewhere around 2002-2003 (I think), I ended up picking the idea of a wrestler autobiography back up. Except this time, I focused on one of the women.
Women’s wrestling in America… In all honesty, it’s a travesty. Especially now. The days of Jacquoline, Lita, post-Test and Albert managing Trish Stratus, and Chyna are gone, and now we have to suffer through The Bella Twins, Alicia Fox, and god only knows who’s left. Paige can only do so much on her own, I’m afraid. TNA had the better roster in terms of talented women. Yeah, last I checked, they had Brooke Tessmacher on the roster, but no team is perfect. Plus she got better in time. Yeah, she was basically there to rub her butt in people’s faces, but she was still better at wrestling than Kelly Kelly. Worst case scenario, unlike Kelly, Brooke actually had an ass to rub in people’s faces in the first place.
I’m pretty sure I was going somewhere with this before now. Oh right!
Version two of the autobiography focused on a female wrestler. Women’s wrestling may be somewhere between a joke and cheap fan service over here in America (especially now), but back then, I set out to make a wrestler that could hang with the best of them. She even held the tag team titles at one point, and wrestled men! Sure she spent most of the match getting absolutely crushed before tagging in her partner, but it had less to do with women being weaker or inferior or whatever, and a lot more to do with the fact that’s how a lot of tag team matches work. The shorter, skinnier, perceivably weaker member gets absolutely stomped for the majority before the other guy gets tagged in, turns the momentum in their favor, and they do their team finisher. She would take a beating every match she was in, but the very next week, she’d be back for more. She certainly wouldn’t show up the next week with taped ribs after a male wrestler fucking scoop slammed her the previous week like that time Victoria had to go up against Carlito. That was fucking embarrassing.
I actually ended up finishing the story. Back in 2002-2003, that was an accomplishment worth bragging about. Unfortunately, somewhere down the line, the more I proofread it, the more disenchanted I grew with the project. I hung on to the characters, and recreated them on newer wrestling games over the years, but the story I’d written for them at that point eventually found its way into the recycle bin. For the most part, the only thing I remember about it being bad was that it was obvious that a high schooler who’d never been to Japan or England had written this story. Of course, that’s what I remember of it.
I’ve thought about rewriting the story. Here and now with women’s wrestling being a real shame, we could probably use a story about women wrestlers who could actually do stuff besides fan servicy moves and scream “LET’S GO NIKKI!” unconvincingly. Sadly, I just don’t feel the motivation for it anymore. Aside from becoming extremely disenchanted with mainstream pro-wrestling anymore, I really have no reason for why.
I’ve sense given these characters other stories that, at the rate I’m going, are probably never going to see anything beyond the vanity press. Still, it’s fun to look back on how they got their start. And to exorcise some fairly recent demons.