Here’s something I never thought I’d say: I am a WWE fan.
A few weeks ago, my boyfriend — who watches every Monday Night Raw and pays for a monthly subscription to the WWE Network — convinced me to attend a show with him at Thompson-Boling Arena. At that point, my basic understanding of WWE was also my basic understanding of wrestling in general: ripped dudes in tight outfits gettin’ into compromising positions.
As the date of the match approached, he tried to catch me up on the various WWE storylines: who’s out for revenge, who got carted away to the hospital after being curb stomped onto a table, who’s got a special wrestling move that the fans go wild for.
When I walked into the arena Tuesday, I could immediately tell the atmosphere was different from the basketball games and concerts I’ve seen there. Paunch-bellied men and former high school wrestlers (who were obviously still holding onto the dream) were wearing sheep masks and huge championship belts and inexplicably yelling out “woo!” and “feed me more!”
I felt like I had entered a massive inside joke which I wasn’t a part of.
I really didn’t want to be singled out as an outsider and subjected to their weird, steroid-fueled wrestling aggression, so I yelled “woo!” along with the masses and hugged the wall to hide my business casual attire.
The first match — a tag team between The Usos and Stardust — began and I was swept up into the WWE Universe.
Some things that I learned:
1. WWE Superstars each have an intricate life story and, often, equally intricate outfits and face makeup (See: Adam Rose and the bunny controversy).
2. Everyone hates The Authority and loves John Cena. Don’t ask me for more detail than that.
3. Some of the hits are fake or exaggerated, but some of them are very, very real. When Triple H went on a folding chair rampage at the end of the show, I winced at every blow.
4. WWE is, surprisingly, a family affair. Take your toddlers! Take you grandma! It’s just like the state fair, but with less pie and more body slamming.
Honestly, I was mostly excited to see the female wrestlers I’d heard about. I was ready to let my feminist flag fly and fist pump for female empowerment. Women are strong! Women can hurt each other too! When Paige and Alicia Fox faced off, I did my best to ignore the tiny, boob-accentuating outfits and weirdly sexual straddle moves that they seem to have been trained to do.
More empowering than the female wrestlers, I found, was the little girl in front of me. She was probably eight years old, with wire-framed glasses and braids, and I wasn’t exactly sure how she had entered the WWE fandom. But Lilly — I would like to call her Lilly — screamed just as loudly, if not louder than, any of the men around me. “Don’t do it!” she advised Dolph Ziggler. “Chokeslam him!” she yelled at Kane. This girl was really breaking down gender stereotypes. Future CEO right there.
Overall, I actually enjoyed myself. It was like any other sporting event: pick a side, cheer for them and boo at their opponents. But it was better than a sporting event. It was some competitive wrestling-telenovela-Broadway play hybrid with costumes and makeup and dramatic monologues. And I enjoyed every minute of it.
I do have to admit, with utmost remorse, that I found myself enjoying and even dancing along to the RAW theme song — which was later revealed to be sung by Nickleback. I know, for shame.
WWE has really inspired me to make some changes in my life. Next time I get upset with my co-workers at The Daily Beacon, I won’t keep it in. Why should I? There are plenty of folding chairs and tables for me to utilize and I’m now aware of the “chokeslam.”
From now on, I will only answer to “Slyvia Starr,” a fierce wrestling warrior from the barren plains of Illinois.
Hayley Brundige is a sophomore in College Scholars. She can be reached at [email protected].
