My Wrestling Manifesto

My first memory of professional wrestling feels like just yesterday. Having been born in 1986 with two older brothers, you would think that my first wrestling memory involved Hulk Hogan, Macho Man Randy Savage, or the Ultimate Warrior. However, being in a family without cable television, it took a while before I was exposed to professional wrestling. I remember borrowing a video tape from a friend. On that tape was SummerSlam 1994. From that moment on, I was hooked. I watched Bret Hart battle his brother Owen Hart in a Steel Cage Match for the WWF Championship. I would sit at the dinner table and talk to my mother about the storyline. Owen, the jealous younger brother betrayed his older brother Bret after years of resentment. My Mom smiled and found comfort in the fact that maybe, just maybe I could learn a lesson from these crazy storylines.

In the summer of 1996, my parents bought me tickets to finally go see my first live event. It was not a pay-per-view or Monday Night Raw, but rather a house show (non-televised event) in Providence, RI. I saw The Undertaker battle Mankind, Steve Austin fight Savio Vega, and Shawn Michaels go head to head with Vader.

We first got cable television in my house in 1997. My birthday coincides with WrestleMania every year (a fact that I believe contributes to my longstanding connection with the sport). I begged my parents to let me order WrestleMania 13, an event that would go down in history as the night Stone Cold Steve Austin became the “Toughest S.O.B” and Bret Hart turned his back on the fans turning heel. A graphic popped up on the screen. WrestleMania XIV would be held at the FleetCenter (now the TD Banknorth Garden) in Boston, MA in 1998. I begged and pleaded to go. My mother then uttered a sentence that will stick with me forever, “Let’s just wait. Who knows? In a year, you might not even like this stuff anymore.” Well Mom, 17 years after my first encounter with professional wrestling, and I am still here. In 1998, for my 12^th birthday, I sat in the 11^th row next to my Dad and watched Stone Cold Steve Austin win his first WWF Championship. A night I will never forget.

Professional wrestling is a performance art. I watch a wrestling match the same way I watch a ballet at a theatre downtown. Sure, some of the story lines can be over the top and warrant excessive eye rolls and shaking your head. I sit through the ninety nine lack luster performances in hopes of experiencing one match that captures that “lightning in a bottle” type brilliance that keeps me watching. Much like ballerinas, pro-wrestlers enter a ring and tell a story with their bodies. They get no second takes. They put their bodies on the line in hopes of bringing a crowd to their feet and hearing them pop with excitement. They are performers. I love watching them perform and I am not alone.

The goal of The Near Fall Journal is to create a place where you can read intelligent articles analyzing the present happenings in pro-wrestling while also looking back at the past and appreciating classic moments, matches, and performers that will live forever. I hope you have as much fun reading as we will writing.