Substance versus sizzle–it’s the great debate of our time. Longer four-course meals of matches or segments in contrast to bouts short enough you could grab a handful of Smartfood popcorn and still have some left at the end for the next segment.
“It’s all about the fake match and has nothing to do with the characters and the story. I mean, that’s it bro, you know, back in the day going all the way back to Bruno man. It was all about characters and story. That’s what draws the casual fan.”
For someone not active in the day-to-day workings of a wrestling company, Vince Russo has maintained an unhealthy attachment to the business he claims to no longer be able to digest. It’s like he has a gluten intolerance, but keeps eating whole wheat bread.
Straight away let’s discuss that first line.
While this is just my opinion, I believe we as people throughout time have had an attachment to the idea of physical combat, tests of mettle and athletics to see who is the best in a field. That’s why combat sports and athletics at all levels are popular. And the reason we have that attachment is the story of natural interactions between two or more people to see who is really best at that particular contest. Who’s the better sprinter? Better puncher? Who has the better ground game? Who has the best hands, or hand-eye coordination? Who’s tougher and willing to go to greater lengths to win?
You can plug any scenario into this argument, but at the centre of it is something carnal and pure–a simple, human story.
Let’s use Gladiator, starring Russell Crowe, as an example. What makes the payoff worth it is the struggle that preceded the ending. The loss of everything that matters, the resilience, and the will to stand up and fight another moment longer. Even in spite of the Emperor’s efforts toward the end, Crowe’s character succeeds in freeing himself, his fellow gladiators and helps bring change to the region.
Wrestling stories don’t need to be that complicated, but regardless of their scope the best ones grab you by the hand and pull you along to their conclusion. It doesn’t matter if they’re a few minutes at a time, whether they’re told over the course of a few weeks or even months leading toward the big payoff.
However, I think issue needs to be taken with the notion that anything beyond the purview of Russo’s frankly antiquated Crash TV premise is inferior, and that it was the apex of wrestling television. Was it the highest period of wrestling viewership? Yes. Was it truly a thoroughbred wrestling program though? That’s a point worth reconsidering. Piggybacking from there, I’d ask you what’s more likely: did overall viewership go down over time because the wrestling stagnated, or was it because the tone of the show stepped away from Crash philosophies and into the PG era parallel to John Cena’s rise? Because I would argue two points at this juncture:
- The wrestling quality never wavered and was always great, from the mid-90s through the Crash era and on to the other side with the rise of Cena.
- The dwindling viewership over time has more to do with the kind of program Russo wrote on the foundation of “wrestling entertainment” based on flash-in-the-pan shock value storylines. At the extreme end of his spectrum, the wrestling didn’t matter.
We need to be honest about the Crash era and wrestling’s viewership heights: the people who were brought into the umbrella of watching Raw and Nitro, and later Smackdown and Thunder, aren’t necessarily watching now. Although there’s no way to catalogue and qualify that statement, I don’t believe it’s an incorrect assumption to presume that most people who were brought in as fans and were drawn in by the less-wrestling focused storylines stuck around as WWE veered farther away from the Attitude era. I would further argue that WWE storytelling became much more balanced post-2000, and while never as wrestling-focused as TNA, ROH, Japanese promotions or even now with AEW in the mix, the WWE formula put in play post-Russo is far more conducive to building longer-lasting fans in the same vein of Hulkamania or Austin (who I’d argue transcends the Attitude era alongside a few others).
This doesn’t mean the product was always great, because it wasn’t, nor is there one right way to put together a wrestling show. Every major promotion that has stepped forward over the last 25-30 years and found a home in our living rooms have offered their take on what it means to tell stories inside a wrestling ring and in the locker room, with both of these environments breeding conflict for the other to feed from.
“Wrestling matches don’t draw a casual fan, that’s why I did crash TV. Five to eight minutes, the matches are over, boom, boom, what’s next, boom. You turn it on today then the main event of Raw starts at 10:30. Bro, if I’m not a wrestling fan [of] in-ring action, I’m not watching it, because the reality of the situation is whether we want to believe it or not, fans of the in-ring action, that’s a very niche audience. That is a very niche audience. That’s why I knew when I started writing it WWE, bro, I had to open that up. Because if you didn’t like wrestling, you weren’t watching the show. So, how was I going to get people to watch the show? Real simple, create characters that they fell in love with and they were emotionally tied to, and then give those characters story, because now you gotta you got them hooked now they gotta tune in every week. All that is gone, it is non-existent.”
Let’s discuss that.
Foremost I’d say that’s incorrect, but I would also couple that by saying extreme highspots have replaced shock value segments with shock value moves–a separate element unto itself. Regardless, to provide a blanket statement and say in-ring action does not draw eyeballs is–for better or worse–false.
Let’s just limit the argument to action-focused wrestlers. To say the sheer athleticism of the following, even as a small example, does not or could not draw viewers week to week just to see what they’ll do next is ignorant:
- Kenny Omega
- Will Ospreay
- Ricochet
- PAC
- AJ Styles (even now)
- Dragon Lee
- Blake Christian
- Ninja Mack
- Rey Fenix
- Lio Rush
- Vikingo
If you know them, you know why they’re there.
(Seriously, if you haven’t watched a Ninja Mack match….go now.)
Philosophically there is no difference between what Russo presented and why high spots are so gripping, and functionally they’re the same in that some of the spots are so common you probably won’t remember them after the next one. Fundamentally his argument is flawed, and were it true professional and combat sports wouldn’t be as popular as they still are. Is it scripted? Obviously. Do they also convey human stories–the highs and lows, rises and falls–through very physical contests?
Obviously.
From that point, then we have to rope in the giants, the technicians, the charismatic figures, the underdogs and throw them in the mosaic that wrestling is; every piece of that tapestry has something for everyone. Wrestling throughout its history has never been one-size-fits-all and it shouldn’t be, nor should it arguably sell itself our hold itself against an era in terms of success where the philosophy behind it created a sphere of relevance that was never going to be sustainable. Wrestling’s highs and lows have seemingly always been attached to figures we can rally behind and the stories they are part of, the ones that orbit around them, and the ones that flesh out weekly television programs. Not always perfect, but I don’t think too many watching today will say they’d rather rewatch a Kai En Tai-Val Venis segment over a match from any of the people listed above.
Stepping Forward From the Wreck
When I first saw this interview Russo took part in I was reminded of four active stories over the last week:
- The entirety of the Bloodline story
- Kenny Omega vs. Will Ospreay
- Blackpool Combat Club vs. the Elite
- Cody Rhodes
All four have been great professional wrestling storylines told over the last several years that have blended storytelling inside and outside of the ring to fully flesh out the purpose of the wrestlers’ interactions.
Let’s start small with Omega and Ospreay.
The story goes that when Omega left NJPW a few years ago he told Ospreay and Jay White that they were going to need to be the standard-bearers for the company, and while White would go on to lead Bullet Club and hold every heavyweight singles title including two iterations of the IWGP championship, Ospreay never fully hit that height. He held titles, yes, but mostly by circumstance he was stuck on the outside looking in despite holding the IWGP world title and putting on excellent, physical matches. But in the grand scheme, from Omega’s perspective, Ospreay never hit the height he needed to hit; that point was punctuated at Wrestle Kingdom in January where Omega fleeced him and broke him before beating him.
Moving to Forbidden Door, they rematch and the tables have turned. Now an angry, motivated Ospreay comes back with a chip on his shoulder, still armed with emotions that drove his initial hatred for Omega, and that fuelled his impassioned promo. After a point the “Aerial Assassin” completely decimated the “Best Bout Machine.” Or more appropriately, he took Kenny’s broom and hit him with it repeatedly. These are two of the best athletic matches of the year, and their story was told mostly in the ring, but based off real life realities outside the ring kayfabe or otherwise.
BCC and the Elite veered more toward the centre, telling their story both through physical storytelling in a series of matches in addition to backstage segments to punctuate the highpoints. Through the feud, which seems to have concluded, the entire point of it was to demonstrate that while the Elite referred to themselves as “elite,” the BCC proclaimed themselves the measuring sticks and the best in the world. They called themselves the elite of professional wrestling, undermining the moral fabric of what Page, Omega and the Bucks cling to and identify themselves by. The end result of their Blood and Guts match in defeating the BCC is that they showed they belong and that they can hang with the best outside their comfort zone. They evolved.
(*Segway*)
Speaking of evolution, let’s talk about the Bloodline.
It’s almost inarguable at this point that the Bloodline narrative is the S-Tier wrestling program that’s been given to us in the last 20 years. We have definitely been given some great stories across many companies. For each of us there are stories that really stick out to us, that we think are great character arcs, great physical triumphs, or something as simple as a captivating short-term story. For me, the rise and fall of Jay White in NJPW, or even Cody Rhodes’ entire journey from WWE to the indies and Japan through AEW and back to WWE are in the conversation. However if we’re talking longevity veering toward an epic, what we’ve been provided over the last few years from WWE and Roman Reigns is a unique, legendary run.
And every ounce of it has hinged on character work.
If the Bloodline story were a chessboard, Roman would be the king with all the other players throughout his run as the Tribal Chief occupying the remainder of the pieces. Each piece had its role, white or black, each serving a purpose to entrench the story in our thoughts and ensuring we tuned each week whether it’s for a PPV, an episode of Raw or Smackdown, for a match, or for a 40-minute segment of pure conversation. It’s been gripping. It hasn’t been perfect, but Roman has been able to carry it mostly himself with his supporting cast of allies and enemies helping to pave the road forward from his time as someone no one wanted in the spotlight to someone who commands our attention and demands to be acknowledged.
It’s a story not even Russo can deny, and frankly how could anyone? From start to finish, from his title reclamation, feud with the Usos that brought them into the fold, ongoing saga with Kevin Owens and Sami Zayn that fully dominated us through the middle of 2022 to WrestleMania and beyond, up to his title defence against Cody Rhodes and consequent fracturing of the Bloodline itself; every step has mattered because it’s building toward the downfall. For me it’s what made Switchblade’s downfall in Bullet Club that unique. He was in effect the architect of his own demise in the same way we’re watching Reigns’ future come together. We’re very literally watching the build toward the end and the journey, whether or not we know the conclusion, is what matters. Has mattered.
This is Why We Watch
I fundamentally disagree with Vince Russo’s catch-all comment because I’ve always maintained there’s something in wrestling for everyone, and there’s isn’t one defined way to do wrestling. If wrestling stagnated over the last 20+ years it wasn’t because we didn’t have “Crash TV” every Monday night, it’s because throughout the dominant portion of wrestling history there has been a degree of diversity in styles, company philosophies and wrestlers that never fit inside a singular box. Whether we go back to the heyday of the territories, or the Monday Night Wars with ECW nipping at the heels of giants, or the effective indie landscape that dominated the North American market for nearly 20 years, there was always something out there for you specifically that transcended one person’s idea of what that something should be. It could have been as simple as going back to watch those physical NOAH/AJPW or AJW encounters, or something more palatable like NJPW. Or maybe you were fine with ROH and Impact. Or maybe you were totally content with WWE. Or maybe, you were waiting for a grandson of a plumber to come along, take a stupid bet and win both it and the NWA title on the path to helping bring wrestling forward. All of that was fine, because in each case each wrestler and company approached the business differently, and told their stories their way.
The reasons we watch are vast. It’s the stories, both covert and overt. It’s the physical storytelling that reminds us of the best parts of combat sports without the fear of our favourites getting starched in 10 seconds. They’re real to all of us. It all matters, and to forget that because a self-aggrandizing former wrestling personality is furiously clinging to the past betrays every person who ever wrestled, poured their hearts into the craft and made us care even for a moment.