|
Three weeks prior to the fight night of the 21st century, I set out on a mission to discover the reason why I and so many others felt compelled to help Floyd Mayweather receive a nine figure payout for 36-minutes of work. Believe me, pinpointing the qualities that make him “Money” was an arduous task. Mayweather likens himself as the greatest fighter ever, better than even the man regarded as “The Greatest” - Muhammad Ali. He lacks the larger than life personality that characterized Ali, though. He is also not the ferocious, cold-blooded dominator that was Mike Tyson. He fails the eyeball test too, appearing no more menacing than the weekend ballers on the local YMCA basketball court. So, it is not his physical presence that draws people. It is not his boxing style either. The manner in which he fights is monotonous. Experts use words like “methodical” and “clinical” to describe it; basically brand conscious boxing analyst speak for “as exciting as a ham sandwich.” Digging a little deeper, I started listening to and watching the media build-up. My primary resource for coverage, ESPN, appeared to have caught the same generational boxing bug that had I and the three million other expected pay-per-view buyers. ESPN has no direct tie-in to the top tier of boxing as they do to the NBA, NFL, and MLB, so their dedication of such massive amounts of air time to this fight boiled down to little more than genuine interest. Fights of this magnitude are like the World Cup or the Olympics; there is just something about them that conjures up a ground swell of intrigue. Similar to nations colliding in sports rivalries that carry over the ill feelings from war or political strife (think USA vs. USSR 1980 “Miracle on Ice”), the biggest boxing matches in history often become microcosms of larger issues that extend beyond the ring. When Max Schmeling lost the World title to Joe Louis, it was Nazi Germany falling to the United States; Louis became one of the very first black celebrities in America as a result. Ali vs. Joe Frazier was American liberal politics vs. conservatism, with Ali banned from boxing for years after he refused to join the US military. Tyson vs. Evander Holyfield was mired in controversy because of Iron Mike’s rape conviction, which prompted protests by groups that did not think it just to allow him to continue his boxing career. Reading all the articles and watching all the commentary reminded me of how substantial boxing can be in our world. The question remained, however, “What makes Floyd Mayweather so significant?” Oddly, the answer appeared when I re-watched WrestleMania XXIV. Floyd, recall, originally came into WWE as a hero with Big Show returning from hiatus as a villain. The problem was that Mayweather was so naturally dislikable that creative was forced to change the dynamic on the fly. With hubris equaled only by his considerable talent, “Money” is, for all intents, a filthy rich, grade A prima donna. He hires someone to go to his house and light specific candles before he returns home. He bought a few dozen cars last year, including a $3 million Ferrari previously owned by the sheikh of Abu Dhabi. He is the worst kind of celebrity, apt to flaunt his fortune. Thus, it would seem that the definable trait of Mayweather's box office appeal is that people ardently want to see him lose. Floyd Mayweather transcends sport. Even people who do not follow boxing have an opinion of him. To most of the population, he is a lousy human-being. His convictions in the court of law have not changed his personal convictions; he comes across like beating up a woman is comparable to getting caught in possession of marijuana – as if it is socially but not legally acceptable. Females in the media, particularly in the sporting world, have to balance the public's desire to see coverage of Mayweather with their disdain for his remorseless attitude toward his checkered past with the fairer sex. Yet, like Mike Tyson two decades before him, his tarnished image has never damaged his drawing power; in fact, it may actually enhance it. The closer attention I paid to the sports reporting, the more another wrinkle emerged that better defines Mayweather's mojo. Every broadcast, in discussing the undefeated champion, mentioned race. Sometimes it was brought up simply to state that it was not an issue, but the more that race was mentioned, the more readily apparent it became that race is absolutely part of the Mayweather story. Hiding from its influence seems counterproductive. On the one hand, his rags-to-riches tale is to be celebrated. He grew up impoverished, his father imprisoned and his mother dying from AIDS, but found an outlet in boxing that earned him an Olympic Bronze Medal that set in motion his wildly successful pro career. He represents the small percentage of young black males in poor socioeconomic situations that rise above their upbringing through athletics. On the other hand, he also represents the group amongst that percentage trapped between the environment that produced him and a world that holds him to a higher standard. It is the plight of the obscenely wealthy black athlete, unapologetic about being a success story, but haunted by achieving his fame and money while furthering the stereotype of criminal inclination by beating women. Mike Tyson seemed to loathe his own reflection in the 90s, eaten up by losing the battle with his past that nearly cost him his future. He has been self-deprecating ever since, poking fun at himself to the point where he has now become a cultural icon. Once stricken by the same prideful disease that plagues Mayweather, Tyson repented enough to gain acceptance and even become somewhat of an endearing figure. There is no such reproach from boxing's current pound-for-pound king. “Mayweather is the center of schism pitting blacks against multiple ethnic groups and some within the black community all because he represents the arrogance of those one percent,” writes Kenneth Miller, Sports Editor of the African-American newspaper, the Los Angeles Sentinel. Miller also notes Mayweather's embrace of hip hop culture, for which an anthem by The Lox (featuring 'Lil Kim) once stated that money, power, and respect is the key to life; that once you get the money, then you get the power, followed by the respect. The song gets it backwards. Money gives you a chance. With that chance comes the greater opportunity to earn respect, which is its own currency for power and influence. And if you don't show respect, then you're not going to earn respect. Mayweather's blatant disregard for his transgressions is an equally vociferous display of immaturity. He has wasted his chance to earn respect. Business savvy as he may be, he's uncouth. People of all races respond accordingly, but Mayweather's $500 million bank account puts him solidly into the class of mostly white corporate America. His peers have provided a blueprint for how best to transition from one phase of life to another, yet he seems uninterested in anything but Floyd's way. Mayweather's other top attribute seems to be that he is, to quote the WWE legend that once accompanied him to the ring, “That damn good.” An unblemished record creates an unmistakable mystique. A goose egg in the loss column means ever-growing anticipation, each victory adding to the aura and each subsequently potential defeat labeled as “historic.” Wrestling fans know full well the value of the undefeated streak; from Andre the Giant to Mr. Perfect to Goldberg to Undertaker, it has long been a popular vehicle to manifest or enhance a wrestler's reputation. To accomplish the feat in performance art pales in comparison to what it means to achieve it in legitimate competition, though. There is nothing like it in sports. Perfection. Self-righteousness. Combine these elements in a brash and obscenely wealthy black man and the main reason for the expectation of Mayweather vs. Pacquiao setting a new PPV record can be summed up in old school pro wrestling terms: Manny is boxing's top babyface and Mayweather is the sporting world's greatest heel. Real world context within the sports viewing experience is an enhancement to the overall presentation that introduces adult themes. It is that extra something which allows us to develop an emotional investment. Such is the characteristic that allows boxing to maintain its dominance over pro wrestling. Boxing is visceral and shines its spotlight on its fighters in a manner that renders them figuratively naked. Exposed to the audience, boxers are revealed as who they really are, allowing us to genuinely decide how we want to perceive them. The perception of Floyd Mayweather saunters between the ultimate winner and the despicable thug. Not one of his fights lacks substance to the story because his story is human interest. Fights – events – like Mayweather vs. Pacquiao evidence how far behind WWE truly is in their product-orientation. Granted, there is something admirable in creating an environment fit for the entire family to buy tickets. You would not likely see a husband, wife, and two kids sitting ringside at a boxing showcase like you would a WWE show. However, kids think in simple terms. The mere illusion of good vs. evil is a strong enough hook to keep them engaged. From a business perspective, there is plenty of money to be made from targeting the child demographic. Yet, the money WWE makes from kids is directly linked to the wallets of the parents. Adult WWE fans that grew up with wrestling as a pastime readily recall the days of their fandom being handicapped by lack of control over funds. Today, they are free to spend their dollars on whatever they choose. Would it behoove WWE to more often place greater emphasis on coherent, intelligent storylines that delve into society’s most responsive topics? It would surely seem an obvious tactic to more cerebrally engross the very sect of the fan base that has the dollars to spend. This particular 30-year fan of pro wrestling would love to see main-event WWE stories as raw and emotive as the brash black champion versus the reformed Christian hero of a crestfallen nation. The entire product need not have that much psychological depth, but there are more adult-oriented subjects to be explored beyond the evil boss versus the unruly employee – the gem at the bottom of the well that WWE keep going back to time and again. Betrayal is another saga that wrestling has used to great affect, most recently with the brotherhood bond between the three members of the S.H.I.E.L.D. being shattered by a kinsman brainwashed by Mayweather's vices (money, power, and respect). So, it is not that WWE fails to incorporate mature themes into their storylines, but it is a rarity that such motifs are examined in mentally-stimulating detail. While sports entertainment dramas have undoubtedly expanded in scope beyond black and white constructs, there are dozens of gray shades to investigate. Mayweather proves that people will flock to innate controversy. Though painted as persona non grata, he is the cult of personality to many. The same media that unabashedly criticizes him in one broadcast will feature anchors that text with him regularly in the next. Michelle Beadle may hate him, but Charles Barkley and Reggie Miller are his good friends. How do you or I, then, form an opinion of him? I've read Barkley's books and have listened to Miller's commentary on social issues, as well. Their views have a better established place in my hierarchy than Beadle's, but I tend to agree with Beadle's take; I don't like how Mayweather responds to questions about domestic violence. All the while, context is important to me. In order to have a well-rounded take on Mayweather's conviction, I'd have to know the details the same as did the court that convicted him. Taking something at face value leaves out the minutia that truly defines circumstance. That, ladies and gentlemen, is a story with many shades of gray. Listen to a WWE executive in an interview and you are bound to hear the words “catering to multiple sects of our audience” mentioned. Prove it. For a company that fashions itself an entertainment brand like Hollywood, it seems content to rotate between a plethora of superficial anecdotes; as if creative meetings involve the use of one of the roulette wheels used on the occasional Monday Night Raw. The movie industry cycles between adult-oriented, action, adventure, comedy, crime, docudrama, fantasy, horror, kid-oriented, politics, teen-oriented, etc., connecting with fans of all genres. Also, the modern era of film has struck a balance between in-depth storytelling and sensationalistic habits (see Titanic, Christopher Nolan's Batman trilogy, Avatar, the Marvel Universe). WWE can do all of that within the framework of competition and with the ultimate goal of getting people to spend money on the payoffs. They have five hours of TV and a Network at their disposal to provide the Scorsese-esque emotional depth with some superstars, the Appatow-esque comedic drama with others, the Cameron-esque well-rounded narrative with others still, and so on and so forth. WWE has established a voice in the world through thirty-plus years in mainstream social consciousness. It is time that they use it. Film and sport uses its influence to send messages to their viewers about life. Those viewers are mostly adults, who then pass the message to their kids. In the WrestleMania Era, we have seen WWE create one boom by focusing on families and another boom by placating young adults. Wrestling fans constantly wonder aloud, “What will it take to create the next wrestling boom?” Maybe the key is to go directly to the consumer and craft a product that tailors to adults; and perhaps the hype for Mayweather-Pacquiao provides part of the blueprint. Stripping its performers down to their more vulnerable selves takes nothing away from the kids or young adults watching WWE and adds something deeper for adults. In the so-called “Reality Era,” this would seem a fitting approach. As an adult, I want my entertainment outlets to be imaginative and absorbing; I want wrestling to reach its full potential as a performance art. Rewind to the 2003 WWE feud between Booker T and Triple H. The wrestling world was not ready for the topic that they explored then, but that was the kind of story that needs to be told today. Would it create controversy? Absolutely, but as the title of Eric Bischoff's biography aptly put it, “Controversy Creates Cash.” The racial divide still exists in the world, as evidenced by numerous headlines in the last few months alone. If Uhaa Nation were to be presented, upon debuting, as a kid from the wrong side of the tracks with jail time in his past who fought tooth and nail to get to the top, culminating in him becoming WWE World Heavyweight Champion, how would that not inspire others? As genuine a person as Uhaa, the man, seems, it would be a riveting tale to see his character overcome the same prejudices that were so strongly implied in the Booker T story from 12 years ago. WWE missed the mark back then, with Triple H winning acting as an unintended subtle reminder to those who shared Booker's history that they can only get so far – especially given the pre-match story...“The Man” always wins. Rectify that situation with better scripting and a more encouraging result and you achieve something with wide-reaching affect. WWE can tell that story and stories like it and teach kids and adults lessons by shaping logical and inspirational outcomes. That will make a difference. It is a wonderful thing that WWE does with its “Be A Star” campaign, going around to schools across the world to promote their anti-bullying work, but don't just talk at those kids; talk to them. They are far more likely to learn and draw inspiration from a well-scripted TV arc (featuring the characters that they look up to) which speaks to their situation than a 30-minute lecture that regurgitates back at them the same things that their principal and teachers say. It will require WWE to take some risks, but they're not historically risk-averse. For instance, if they could roll out a heel character that preyed on homophobia in the mid-1990s to earn attention in the vein of “all press is good press,” then why can't they, twenty years later, present a gay babyface character (male or female) that draws attention for the right reasons? The tone of the argument would be different and it would still be a lightning rod, but it could truly help people. Look at what the Kurt Hummel and Blaine Anderson characters from Glee did to advance the acceptance of gay men. WWE has the ability to back up “Be A Star” with actions that speak to the world. Imagine if they asked Finn Balor to simply portray a gay man or Charlotte a gay woman; the same vivid originality seen in Balor's entrance and Charlotte's genetic superiority from being a Flair would carry over, but they would be gay. It would give WWE an opportunity to show everyone that there is nothing to fear; that the only difference between them and their peers is the gender that they preferred. The various challenges that gay men and women deal with could be investigated along the way. While the realism in boxing's hype may prevail over WWE, pro wrestling's top worldwide organization does hold one distinct advantage over boxing. As proven by the mundane affair that was Mayweather vs. Pacquaio, WWE has the ability to deliver a far more satisfying payoff than boxing. Mayweather is like the “Million Dollar Man” Ted Dibiase amplified by racial controversy and criminal convictions. Think about the degree of enthusiastic resonance it would create if a loathsome human-being like Floyd was knocked out at the end of such a heavily-hyped fight like a Rocky movie come to life. People would be talking about it for years to come; it would have been an iconic moment in sport. Instead, headlines were made for all the wrong reasons. Manny was played to the ring by a Christian ballad in quite possibly the least exciting entrance in the history of sports involving a squared circle. Chris Chase of USA Today called the fight itself “glorified sparring” and “a complete waste of time and money.” With an unmatched hype machine powering expectations to unrealistic levels, Mayweather-Pacquaio might have put the final nail in boxing’s coffin. On the other hand, a horribly hyped WrestleMania 31 main-event scored a stunning critical achievement destined to be placed on a pedestal. If WWE can find a way to tell stories as deep-rooted as Floyd vs. Manny, then they could own boxing because of their ability to deliver the conclusion that people want to see.
|
