Crisis on Infinite Shows

Dear Wrestling,

So Jack Gallagher turned heel recently. A lot of my friends online are aghast at this--I'd say most are. My first impulse was to be delighted--he is, of course, as excellent at this as he is at everything else. I love seeing weirdos in particular excel. But it's been a week or two, and I've thought about it and I don't think I care for this after all.

My reasoning is this: In wrestling generally and WWE specifically, we're in a cultural trend of bad guys winning. One could liken it to the grimdark era of comics in the 80s. I mean, I'm new here and I can see it. It's hard to miss.

Wrestling sells itself as a kind of moralistic fantasy theatre. People watch wrestling, we are told, because they want to see clearly defined good guys and bad guys and they want to see the good guys win.

In WWE, not so much. Even the babiest of faces cheat or lie or are just dishonorable in some way...if they're on top.

Down in the gutter of 205Live*, art and magic still got to happen, hidden away from Sauron's/Vince's all-seeing eye. Or it did. We had Jack as a gentleman, honorable and true. We had Neville as a crazed king--crazed, but still adhering to his own code at least, bless him, and driven mad by his own excellence, if anything. We still have Mustafa for the moment, but for your health's sake, brace yourself.

Because now we have a Jack who has ignored the praise and admiration of the audience in order to prove himself to his enemy, on his enemy's terms. We have, sweet Thor save us, Enzo Amore as the cruiserweight champion. And so the patterns of the two bigger shows have crushed themselves down upon 205Live, like a stamp or a die.

The cruiserweights were our last holdout where good could triumph--or at least, at very least, it could stay itself. Jack's heel turn feels to me like the end of an era, however short it was. Now there is nowhere on wrestling's largest stage where someone can succeed simply by being good.**  And let me be clear: I think great stories can come from this orientation. I just don't think it should be the only one.

Autumn


*NB: I love the gutter. It's where all my favorite art happens.
**Until Kevin Owen's face turn. I believe KO can turn this trend and set things right.

Heartbreak

Dear Wrestling,

Preface: I worked on this for a couple weeks, knew it was a work in progress and it was bumming me out pretty hard so I put it aside for a minute. Until No Mercy, tonight. The first bit is from before. After tonight, I just wanted to get it out/away. I’ll put an asterisk break for tonight’s…ranting, most likely.


I don't think it's intrinsic to the nature of a heart to be broken--but, once you place a heart in the world, it is subject to the same harm and danger and impermanence as everything else.

In other words, the only place a heart is unbreakable is in a thought experiment.

There are so many different kinds of heartbreak. I've felt quick sharp ones like a finger popping. Aching, festering ones like a gangrenous wound. I have one quiet, constant one that's been ongoing since I was 16 years old. It will probably be with me when I die, an old and familiar friend. I'm even happy about that one, and I hope it never ends.

So now I love this new thing, and it's like loving a new society or civilization: there are a LOT of component parts to love or loathe or be disappointed by. New, exciting ways/people to break one's heart. It's the same human zoo as anywhere else.

Facebook recently reminded me of a status: "Between Bray Wyatt and the New Day, I might have to start paying attention to WWE..."  That was on August 7, 2016. That day I made reference to 'the trombonist in the New Day"--because I didn't know his name yet. I've come a long way since then, although the road ahead seems (happily!) unending. Part of my education in wrestling has been falling in love with the wrong people. As a queer person, it's meant hearing slurs about me from people I adore. It hurts.

At first I thought, “Maybe I’ll hold back. Maybe I’ll try to keep me safe, keep some piece of my heart in reserve, so that it doesn’t hurt so bad when the inevitable happens.” Which just goes to show that I am frequently dumb, and that I really am not very good at remembering what I know about myself. In this case, the fact that when I love, I love hard. I am picky as hell, and once someone or something clears all my bars, they’re in—period. Forever. They can change it: they can be hateful, turn out to want to deny someone basic rights, be a racist—but they have to do it. I can’t.

Which is why I pray to my dear thewful Thor that I never find out something worse about my beloved than that they used the word faggot in the past. That’s plenty, and to be perfectly honest it’s way more than I thought I’d ever be able to forgive an adult for. I don’t know if wrestling has changed me or just shown more of me than I knew existed.

I have found some things that are dealbreakers: calling women whores. Beating or berating them. Supporting people who stand against recognizing the humanity of others—or who are plainly too stupid to live. Being a racist.

********************************************************************************

So Enzo is the cruiserweight champion. This guy who treats people like garbage, who makes a living from making fun of other people’s looks…who has definitely cheated on women and almost certainly behaved abominably toward sex workers…this guy beat Neville.

Neville, who is one of the top five wrestlers in the world. Probably top three. Who has come so, so far in terms of his confidence and mic work and character…who has worked so hard for so long to get where he is.

I tweeted that I’d have to cancel my WWE network subscription. I might. I don’t know.

I know that the story isn’t over. The thing I’m struggling with is, where are the lines for a heel? Some of them are obvious: racism. Sexual assault. Child abuse.

But this guy has a lifestyle of disrespecting women like it’s going out of style—which, god do I wish it was. So his character never crosses any terrible lines…but he sure does.

This company has made it clear that you pretty much can’t be too bad to get fired. It takes a LOT.


I don’t have any answers. It’s the same stupid moral decay and frustration as anywhere else.

So, maybe it’s time wrestling stops selling itself as an escape from that?


Autumn

Volpa Nera on Punk Ethics and Sami Zayn

Dear Wrestling, 

Today instead of the normal letter from me to your incorporeal excellence, I have a treat! A guest post by the wise and kind Volpa Nera, @volpettinanera, about our Best Beloved, Sami Zayn. Please give her all the love this is due and help me convince her to start a blog her ownself. 

In 2017, the real world is a turbulent and terrifying place. The microcosmic world of wrestling reflects this, for better or worse: jingoism is back in fashion, and our heroes are apathetic, hypocritical, egotistical. Beloved tag teams end in shattering betrayal. Skilled performers fall to the bottom of the pile, and 205 Live goes unloved despite showcasing some of the best wrestling on television. At the time of writing, of 9 available titles, 6 are currently in the possession of ‘heel’ characters. Who’d be a good guy at a time like this?

In 1970’s Britain the world was a stagnant and stifling place. The Sex Pistols opined that there was ‘no future’; recession, unemployment and social unrest among the working classes spawned the British punk movement. The rich were getting richer, the poor left to rot at the bottom of the pile. Society, according to punk ideology, had failed; conforming to societal norms was anathema to young British punks. The attitude was slightly different in the US, where punk was largely a middle-class rebellion: youths rejecting the middle-class values they had been brought up to revere in favour of their own, self-determined values. Nonetheless, the rejection of the establishment proved a common thread present in both movements.

Sami Zayn goes by the WWE-appointed moniker of ‘The Underdog from the Underground’; the Underground points to both his past life in the indies, but also his well-documented love of punk rock. His ska-influenced entrance theme stands out in a sea of metal riffs and on the surface it is tricky to reconcile the cheerful, good-guy persona Sami presents with the aggressive nihilism popularly associated with punk.

But punk isn’t solely about nihilism; it’s a nebulous ideology, and its definition depends on our ability to specify a space & time to which we can relate it as a concept. But the spirit of nonconformity remains a constant: the subversion of the establishment, the rejection of the status quo, the elevation of anarchy as a viable alternative. In a narrative environment in which grey morality has become the accepted norm – in which a character accepted as heroic may be applauded for torching another’s house, in which selfishness and egotism are character quirks, in which it is no longer possible to draw a clean line between Evil and Good – if we are to accept the spirit of nonconformity as being key to punk philosophy, then what could be more punk rock than being kind?

(I should add here that punk and kindness are not necessarily antithetical: in 1978 a ‘Rock Against Racism’ concert was held in London’s Victoria Park. Notable punk bands of the era played in support, including The Clash, X-Ray Spex, Generation X and Sham 69. Punk may demand the destruction of social norms, but one could argue that some social norms deserve to be destroyed.)

In a traditional Good vs Evil dichotomy – the kind Barthes posits is the nature of American wrestling, “‘a sort of mythological fight between Good and Evil’” – the archetypes are so broadly sketched and so instantly recognisable that we know which side we are supposed to root for. For the most part, this is no longer the case: AJ Styles spent months in Heel/Face limbo before being officially designated a Good Guy, and we cheer for Randy Orton even as he burns down Bray Wyatt’s house.

Sami is a yardstick by which we can measure the relative ‘Evil’-ness of an act or a character, because we can be sure that his actions and reactions will be consistently and demonstrably the opposite. The precedent for this goes all the way back to his NXT days, in a piece of exemplary storytelling (and which, I believe, has not yet been equalled on the main roster). Sami wants to win the title, but consistently falls at the last hurdle. The potential moral of the story is that nice guys finish last; that you don’t get anywhere without a well-polished ruthless streak. Empirical evidence bears this out, not least when Sami’s friend (and one-man Greek chorus) Neville demonstrates the efficacy of flexible morality. Ultimately, Sami holds firm, does not give in to the temptation to cheat his way to victory, refuses to compromise his morals for success. And when he wins, it feels as though every single heart under the Full Sail roof is about to explode with joy. We, all of us, have wanted this every bit as much as Sami has. We’ve all been on this journey together. (Inclusivity is a key feature of Sami’s character: he frequently pauses to show he’s aware of the audience singing along to his music, or chanting for him. Even the “Let’s Go!” motif is an invitation.)

The key to creating a believably Good character, in my view, is that Good should be a characteristic they strive for. It’s difficult for us to relate to a person for whom Goodness is a personality trait, something innate and embodied, but we all recognise the struggle inherent in choosing to do Good when the alternative seems so much easier. There is an almost Kantian distinction in Sami Zayn’s character between doing a ‘good’ thing and doing the ‘right’ thing – the latter is something we hear from Sami time and time again. For Sami, ‘Good’ is a byproduct of doing what is ‘right’.

Even if we are to accept that punk is essentially cynical, cynicism in its original, purest form is embodied by the rejection of conventional desires – power, wealth, status. Modern usage has transformed the original concept into something more unsavoury, and yet in many ways punk is largely true to the original spirit of cynicism: ancient Greek Cynicism required that the adherent live their unconventional life in full view of the public gaze, indifferent to insults and derision. So when Neville disparages Sami’s virtuous attitude towards victory – his insistence on doing the ‘right’ thing irrespective of the consequences (i.e. failure) – Sami is refusing to conform to the expectation that he should want to be successful at any cost. And when he eventually wins – complete with heartstoppingly dramatic ‘will-he-or-won’t-he’ moment in which the crowd literally beg Sami not to cheat – it’s so much sweeter because he did it on his terms, in his way, without sacrificing the morality which has become almost unfashionable in modern WWE. We see this again in his recent interaction with Kevin Owens: Kevin asks him to be the referee in his US Championship match against AJ Styles. The reasoning, ostensibly, is that Kevin trusts Sami not to cheat him out of a win, in spite of their past history. And here is a wonderful nod to that history: Even with their mutual animosity, Kevin would put his title shot in Sami’s hands because he knows Sami well enough to understand that he does what is right.

The audience, in our omniscience, know that within the context of their shared history, Sami would be forgiven for accepting the ref’s jersey and proceeding to screw Kevin over. Hell, within the context of the Face/Heel dichotomy, one could even argue that this would be a virtuous act. It would represent Kevin’s comeuppance – both for his treatment of Sami and for his multitude of other transgressions (we all remember JeriKo’s own Red Wedding, the Festival of Friendship – he brought you a magician, Kevin!). And if we want to delve even deeper – if we want to get meta about things – we can recall Kevin’s proclamation that Sami has done very little since coming to Smackdown and recognise that this is his opportunity to be significant. I would bet that most of us watching thought we could see the story unfolding before us: the tentative acceptance signalling a potential reparation of a shattered friendship even as that little voice inside of us yells screw him, Sami, he doesn’t deserve you, culminating in a short, sharp return to the status quo as Sami takes his well-earned revenge. Wrestling rivalries run deep, and like the proverbial elephant, a wrestler never forgets.

But Sami doesn’t choose revenge, or significance, both of which are desires we have come to expect from our (increasingly individualistic) wrestling narrative. Nor does he exhibit what we might consider naivety in believing Kevin’s motivations to be genuine. He chooses, instead, to walk away. He does the ‘right’ thing, because that is what Sami does: his values, in keeping with the American punk ethos, are self-determined. Punk values authenticity, and Sami has this in spades: he doesn’t conform to our expectations, nor the expectations of the narrative, and it’s punk as fuck.

Where traditionally Good characters exist, it seems de rigeur to stomp them down, and the implication is that the audience should be entertained rather than outraged – witness Alexa Bliss’ verbal decimation of Bayley, whose inherent ‘niceness’ has been portrayed as a fatal weakness, a character flaw, and the reason for her present inability to succeed. Unlike Sami in NXT, there has been no redemption arc for her thus far to prove this wrong.

Sami’s recent main roster run has been frustrating to say the least, and as with Bayley there has been precious little in the way of meaningful victory to counteract the notion that his essential ‘goodness’ is, in fact, toothlessness. And we have seen glimpses of that frustration; Sami likes to remind us that he has to work to maintain his positive attitude (again, lending an authenticity to his character – even the best of us has wanted to lash out and fuck the consequences sometimes.) You might consider that piling failure upon insignificance might lead to a – whisper it – heel turn. And yet Sami remains defiantly positive. He’s the person who apologises to the Kanellises for a completely accidental transgression, who takes on the monstrous bully Braun Strowman because nobody else will, who turns down the opportunity to screw over the former best friend that betrayed him. Who stands up to The Man (or, pardon the pun, the McMahon) because he can see that Mick Foley is being treated unfairly, and someone has to be the voice of reason. What’s punk about this, you might ask? It’s that nobody else would do it. The only person authentic enough to do the right thing, regardless of the repercussions, is Sami Zayn.

Even now, seemingly doomed to languish in booking limbo, Sami does not give in to his frustration and opts instead to wear his heart on his metaphorical sleeve. His ring gear carries a lyric appropriately borrowed from ska punk band Operation Ivy: to resist despair in this world is what it means to be free. And in that liminal space between our turbulent world and his, the hole in the fabric of the universe in which fiction and reality bleed together, these words resonate.

What Sami Zayn understands is this: When looking after number one is the dominant attitude, when compassion is portrayed as weakness and consideration as irrationality, when the establishment itself lauds austerity and self-preservation as the way forward, the punk spirit demands fuck the establishment as a response. When apathy is conformity, there is nothing more punk rock than being kind.

DDT4 2013

Dear Wrestling,



So. I had been trying to work my way through the Steenerico corpus chronologically, but then Mith​ was talking about watching DDT 2008 and Kev having a strong reaction to losing the tag titles. The way she described it, I wanted to watch it immediately. I have big emotions, and I’m a sucker for them in others. I watched it and then needed to watch DDT 2013, the last time they tagged together.

I’m still learning how to see the subtleties of movement and story that make a match great, so I won’t comment on that. But emotion…emotion I’m good at.

I say on twitter a lot—probably too frequently—that I relate to Kevin Steen/Owens. On the one hand his character is frequently monstrous, possibly evil, and so I slightly worry how those statements will be interpreted. On the other hand, it is so vanishingly rare that I relate to someone as strongly as I do to him, I won’t hold it back.

I am monstrous sometimes. I hope you don’t know this for yourself, it is very fucking difficult to get out of a situation that will leave you with PTSD without doing something monstrous. I have done things that I consider to be evil—bearing in mind, I have a damn low bar for what’s evil. Harming others non-consensually, pretty much. Sometimes I get more angry than I know what to do with, and I lash out at the wrong people—like I just did, just now, to my husband when he interrupted my writing. He’s fine, he’s just curious, but my thoughts are unwieldy and hard to match up to the feelings, so I got frustrated and snapped at him. I feel enormous feelings and whether pleasant or socially unacceptable, sometimes they run away with me. When I first heard the parable of the soul being a chariot harnessed to a good horse and a willful horse, I thought, “Yes!” Enormous animals, far stronger than me, not at all well-trained. That’s it exactly.

Sometimes, when I’m really truly upset—can’t keep it together upset—I shut down. Nothing is safe, anything might push me over the edge. So I lock it all down and figure, I’ll get back to feeling things later, when I can afford to. When it’s safe. When the next thing won’t break me.

That picture up top? That feels like a goddamn self-portrait. That look on Kevin’s face, his posture, that is exactly like what it feels like. I doubt Kevin was feeling quite as bad off as I describe. It’s probably just a ridiculously unlikely coincidence.

Did you know that the word ‘monster’ comes from the same Latin word as demonstrate? Essentially, colloquially, it means a thing you point at. That’s all. A beautiful thing, a scary thing, a numinous thing. That part matters not at all. It’s something that makes you feel something strongly, and compels you to point it out to others.

A friend and I were talking about watching this match, and they said, “Prepare to cry a lot.” Afterwards I responded, “If I was well-adjusted, I probably would have.”

Some emotions are too big for tears.