Why Does Pro-Wrestling Suck So Much Right Now Brrrrutha??

If you're a professional wrestling fan, chances are you are thinking this to yourself anyway, but go ahead and say it:

Wrestling sucks these days.

It sucks ass, truth be told.

There. Feel better? Good.

Because the truth is that if you are a professional wrestling fan, you are not alone. Not by any means. From the completely botched relaunch of Extreme Championship Wrestling (ECW), to Vince McMahon's apparent fascination with displaying the naked male ass on television, the past several months have not been good times for fans of professional wrestling.

This is because Vincent Kennedy McMahon, the man who for all intents and purposes single-handedly controls our beloved "fake sport" of wrasslin', seems to have developed a very unique way of clutching defeat from the potential arms of victory.



And here's the bad news. From the looks of things, it doesn't look to be getting better anytime soon. For those of us really hardcore fans, like myself, who keep telling ourselves week after week that the turnaround is coming, the truth is it may be time to stop deluding ourselves.

Oh sure...we've suffered through similiar downturns in the popularity of our beloved "fake sport." Remember the early nineties? Me and my ever shrinking circle of wrestling buddies, who've long since gone on to find more productive and entertaining ways to spend their Monday nights during the off-football season (not to mention the once a month all day Sunday pay per view extravaganzas) sure do.

The post-Hulk Hogan glory years, which should have brought fans the greatest boom in wrestling history, instead brought us the early nineties. This was a wasteland of missed opportunities and botched gimmicks.

This was where the dream match of wrestling fans everywhere, Ric Flair vs. Hulk Hogan, had to be put on hold because of the steroid scandal (it eventually happened when Hogan came to WCW). Instead what did we get for Wrestlemania? I can't remember exactly, but I want to say it was something like Sid Vicious vs. Randy "Macho Man" Savage.


What I know for sure was that it sucked.

My circle of wrestling buddies (which is again ever-so-shrinking these days) often refer not so fondly to this period as "the shit years." In addition to the botched dream matches and angles, this period is best remembered as the time Vince McMahon attempted to launch a body building promotion around the talentless, 'roided up freak, Lex Luger.


Of course there were also the numerous bad gimmicks of the day. Anybody remember the Voodoo man Papa Shango? How about Bastion Booger or Duke "The Dumpster" Droese? Talk about your "garbage wrestling."

For those who need a refresher of this little trip down memory lane, I highly recommend turning your browsers towards Wrestlecrap, the online shrine to the worst of professional wrestling.


Somehow wrestling still survived the "shit years."

The reason why had everything to do with competition. Sensing blood in the water, Ted Turner's WCW (World Championship Wrestling) gobbled up Vince McMahon's WWF stars from Hogan to Savage in the mid-nineties.

Then, and not without a little luck and a whole a lot of ego involved, a guy named Eric Bischoff came up with the idea of going head to head with Vince's USA show on Monday nights on Turner's TBS. Bischoff had no problem shamelessly ripping off McMahon's ideas, and even named the show Monday Nitro (a cheap knockoff of Monday Night Raw).

Vince eventually won the legendary Monday Night Wars when Bischoff's one original idea, the renegade NWO (New World Order) group led by newly turned heel Hulk Hogan went about three years past its expiration date.

By this time, Vince had developed an array of new stars ranging from original WCW rejects like the beer swilling "Stone Cold" Steve Austin and "Mankind" Mick Foley, as well as charismatic new blood like The Rock.


But the real way Vince won the war? He made the storylines seem real. The beauty of professional wrestling lies in the suspension of disbelief. At the end of the day, it's those "holy shit" moments that bring us so-called wrestling "marks" back to the tube every Monday night.

You can dangle all of the eye candy and gratuitious T & A in the world (and in those nineties glory days of Sable and Sunny, there was enough of it to stick an encyclopedia of Playboys together without the benefit of glue).

You can do untold ECW-inspired "hardcore spots," putting guys through flaming tables and the like (which has long since been toned down since the nineties "Attitude" era when legitimate injuries we're as common as twice a month Pay Per Views).

But at the end of the day, it is a compelling, believable story — one which enables suspension of disbelief — that brings wrestling fans to the party week after week. It's something that harkens back to the sort of wrestling stories I grew up on as a kid.

Back then, there may have been the occasional wildcard like the fire-throwing Sheik (these days it would be the supernatural bullshit of somebody like The Undertaker). But at the end of the day, it was the time honored story of the virtuous babyface getting his against the insufferable prick, "heel," bad guy, or whatever you want to call it.

Whether it was Nick Bockwinkel kicking Ripper Collins' ass all over Hawaii in the seventies, Hulk Hogan body slamming that "big stinky Andre The Giant" in the eighties, or Stone Cold Steve Austin shoving a thermomater up Vince McMahon's ass in the nineties, it all boils down to the same thing.

Wrestling fans are willing and eager to suspend disbelief if the story is a compelling one, with a real hero and a real villian.

And on that note, Vince McMahon's WWE, the only game in town these days, seems to have really lost its once golden touch.

Since winning the "Monday Night War" at the turn the millennium, the WWE has been a series of missteps with no end in sight. They famously botched the can't miss "WCW Invasion" angle. They infamously launched the doomed-to-failure XFL (shades of that God-awful post Hogan body building federation built around Lex Luger).

They switched networks from USA to The Nashville Network (TNN, now Spike TV), and overnight dropped from regular 6.0 ratings to the 2s (they've since switched back and have climbed to the 3s).

Most recently, the WWE has re-launched the Extreme Championship Wrestling brand (after two great pay per views). ECW at its best revisits the old school wrestling formula of great morality tale based storylines and hardcore matches to resolve the disputes of same. As of this writing, the weekly ECW on the Sci-Fi channel is enjoying decent ratings. But there is not a wrestling fan I know of that plans on sticking with it if things don't start changing soon.

What that means in plain English is this. ECW needs to be its own brand with its own stars for starters. Not some cheap WWE knockoff.

We don't want to see Big Show (a WWE star) against some other WWE star (for the past three weeks it's been Ric Flair, Undertaker, and Kane respectively) for the ECW title. We want to see ECW guys in ECW storylines.



We want to see guys like The Sandman and Tommy Dreamer winning actual matches rather than jobbing to WWE guys. We want to see Rob Van Dam back in the thick of the storylines, once he is brought back after fucking up the first week in by getting busted with pot. We want to see promising newcomers like C.M. Punk developed into ECW stars, rather than failed WWE guys like Test pushed.


Make sense?

We want to see an actual ECW, rather than a WWE C level brand. That's what we want to see.

We want to see some actual wrestling, rather than lame storylines involving male cheerleading squads and way, way too much male ass. We want the morality tales that allow us to suspend disbelief, rather than lame, unbelievable storylines about necrophilia and the like.



Speaking of which, how much does it suck to be Kane anyway? Poor fucking guy.

We are waiting Vince. But trust me, our patience, and our suspension of intelligence, which you so arrogantly underestimate, will only go so far.

Fire the Hollywood guys, and let's get back to wrestling okay?

Thanks for listening.

Thinking Mans Popcorn:
Viva La V For Vendetta

One of the most unexpectedly pleasant movie surprises I've had this year was the Wachowski Brothers brilliant screen adaptation of the DC Comics graphic novel, V For Vendetta.

It's not often you find yourself somewhat moved by something advertised as a Hollywood popcorn action movie, but V For Vendetta had that exact effect on me. After seeing the movie (twice), I bought the graphic novel and devoured it in about a day.

You see, even if it has been somewhat cleverly dressed up as a Hollywood popcorn movie, V For Vendetta is clearly a movie with a point to make. It's a story that has been told numerous times before (though not nearly enough lately given the times we live in) of the people rising up against an oppressive government. The closest comparison you would find in literature would be something like George Orwell's 1984.

The paradox of V For Vendetta lies in it's hero and central character, the mysterious (and sympathetic) masked terrorist known only as "V", expertly played beneath the mask by Hugo Weaving.



V is something of a cross between the masked serial killers of slasher fare like Friday the 13th and Halloween, and the avenging angels of Reagan-era action movies like like RoboCop and The Terminator. But in between blowing up government buildings to symphonic soundtracks, and slicing and dicing his enemies with his ever so trusty knives, V is also something of a renaissance man.

He quotes Shakespeare, lives in a crypt like underground "Shadow Gallery" filled with priceless artifacts banned by the government, and dances alone to the torchy slow jazz songs on his own personal jukebox.

But "V" is no angel.

Make no mistake about it. "V" is a terrorist who has a vendetta with an agenda. Which is what makes this such a fascinating film. You see, "V" is a sympathetic terrorist. Remember that scene in the movie "Independence Day" where the aliens blew up the White House that actually had movie audiences cheering in the theatres? When V blows up the British Parliament, you likewise actually find yourself cheering him on. Which is no small accomplishment given the post 9/11 era in which we live.

In a not too distant future, America has been destroyed by civil war and England is ruled by the iron fist of High Chancellor Adam Sutler (John Hurt, who ironically played Winston Smith in the film adaptation of Orwell's 1984), with the aid of jackbooted goons "The Fingermen," headed up by a very nasty guy named Creedy.

As the plot unfolds, it becomes apparent that the rise to power of Sutler, Creedy, and company came through the exploitation of fear created by a national crisis that it turns out they manufactured themselves. This may all sound quite familiar if you follow the various conspiracy theories floating about on the Internet about 9/11.

Anyway, it turns out that "V" was rounded up with the rest of the minorities, homosexuals, and other undesirables and placed in an internment camp once the goons took over. In the internment camp, some very nasty medical experiments took place which V survived. And now, V is pissed.

After he rescues damsel in distress Evey Hammond (Natalie Portman), an employee of the state run propaganda television network, from an attempted rape by a couple of the Fingermen goons, "V" takes her to the rooftops to watch him blow up a government building.

"Do You Like Music?," V asks Evey in one of this film's several great lines of dialogue, as the 1812 Overture blares the soundtrack to the fireworks over loud speakers in the streets.



But V is just getting warmed up.

Turns out "V" has taken a cue from his spiritual mentor, 16th Century Catholic Guy Fawkes (whose mask he wears), and has decided to send a message to his oppressors by blowing up the British Parliament building on November 5th (the anniversary of Fawkes' original attempt to do the same). Leading up to that event, he slices and dices his way through an array of villians ranging from the fascist government's television propaganda mouthpiece to everyone's favorite pedophile Catholic priest.

Meanwhile, with the none too subtle assistance of "V" Himself, Evey has her own spiritual and political epiphany and becomes his accomplice.

As I noted above, there are so many great lines of dialogue in this movie I couldn't begin to note them all.

But here are a few of my favorites:

"A revolution without dancing, isn't one worth having."

"Beneath this mask lies an idea, and ideas are bulletproof."

And my personal favorite:

"People should not be afraid of their governments. Governments should be afraid of their people."

Though cleverly disguied, this a movie that makes you think. Even as it entertains you by blowing things up and slicing and dicing it's way through all the bad guys (loved the knife trails in the fight scenes), there is a definite statement being made:

Question authority.



The double disc DVD comes with some great extras too. In addition to a short documentary on the making of the film, there are features on the new wave of comics focusing on the eighties and nineties rise of the graphic novels which spawned V For Vendetta, as well as a history piece on the Guy Fawkes backstory which inspired it.

V For Vendetta is a thinking man's action picture. I loved this movie in the theatres, and I loved watching it at home. It comes to your nearest video store August 1.

Johnny Cash's American V: A Hundred Highways:

The Best Album of 2006 (Thus Far)

When I was kid growing up in the sixties and seventies I was never much into Johnny Cash. Like most thirteen year olds at the time, my musical taste ran more towards the noisemakers of the day like Led Zeppelin and Grand Funk Railroad, with maybe a side dish of Beatles and Dylan as a reminder of the value of good songwriting.

So like most of my friends, I mentally filed Johnny Cash and his "Boy Named Sue" nonsense somewhere in between the country crap my Dad listened to (guys like Glen Campbell), and novelty artists like Tiny Tim or Ray Stevens. Years later of course, as both my tastes began to change and I grew up a little, I developed a healthy respect for The Man In Black as the American Icon he is.

You had to stand back in just a little awe at the man's voice for starters.

There is nothing that quite matches it's deep resonance in all of music.

The other thing about Cash though is simply his songs. Not all of them are written by him of course, but even when the writer is someone else, Cash makes every song he sings uniquely his own. His songs evoke images of America--the good, the bad, and the ugly--in a way only a very select handful of singers can. Johnny Cash's powers as an interpeter of song are without equal.

I briefly worked at American Recordings in Los Angeles in the early nineties, and was fortunate enough to have been in on the early marketing plans for the first of what was to become The American Series. And over the course of my travels through the years, I've had occasion to meet hundreds of rock stars. I thought I was way past ever being starstruck meeting musicians.

But when Rick Rubin marched into my office one morning in 1993 and introduced me to Johnny Cash, I was speechless. What are you supposed to say when The Man In Black himself extends you his hand and says in that unmistakable voice, "Hello, I'm Johnny Cash."

I was absolutely dumbstruck at the experience. It's a story I tell often over beers with my friends to this day.

In the twilight years of Cash's life, Rick Rubin assured that his legacy would be properly bookended by making the great series of American Recordings albums. In doing so, Cash was able to end his career on the same sort of artistic high note that he began it on with those early Sun Records albums. For that all of America owes Rubin a debt of gratitude (and I say that about the guy who signed off on firing me from his company).


Cash's famously resonant voice has grown a little weaker as his life has drawn closer to a conclusion, but it's no less powerful here on what will presumably be the final chapter in the American series, A Hundred Highways.

In going through and rediscovering the boxed set and five albums proper that comprise the American Recordings series, it has been Cash's interpetive powers which have most struck me as a listener.


On those albums, Cash has reinvented songs by everyone from Soundgarden to Bob Marley (Cash's take on Marley's "Redemption Song" is a revelation) to Neil Diamond. With each interpetation, Cash uniquely stamps them as his own.

But as that famously resonant voice has in recent years began to recede, most notably on his amazing version of Nine Inch Nails "Hurt," it has also taken on new life. Where there was once a apocalyptic preacher's quality to it, there is now an inescapable weariness. A sense of both longing and of an almost biblical sort of take on mortality.

American V: A Hundred Highways is filled with all these types of themes. The weariness, the sense of desolation and longing, and especially the consciousness of the artists own mortality. Cash's take on Gordon Lightfoot's "If You Could Read My Mind" (a song I never particularly cared for until now) is sung as almost a wistful prayer and as a reflection on what had to be an extraordinary life. There's some regret there, but there is also both resolve and resignation.

The same goes for the opening track, "Help Me".

In DJ Radiohead's Blogcritics review of this CD, he makes the point that Cash's voice has never sounded more broken or heartbroken than it does here.

I wholly concur.

But I would add that on this song, as with so many others here, that Johnny Cash, fully aware of his own mortality, and impending meeting with his maker seems to be making peace with that in an almost prayerlike way.

His voice creaks with resigned emotion here. It is the resigned voice of a man whose deep Christian faith framed him as a human being every bit as much so as did the wild, often hard life he lived as a younger man.

Cash is not just aware of his mortality on these songs.

He is also clearly looking to the hereafter.


Cash likewise turns Bruce Springsteen's rocking road song, "Further On Up The Road" from The Rising into another of this album's numerous lamentations on life and death. The musical arrangement of this song, with it's quietly strummed minor chords and occasional Dylanesque organ sweep, in particular compliments the sentiment here. An otherwise fairly minor track from the great Springsteen, here it becomes a statement that is both eerie and poetic at the same time. It's both tearjerker sad and remarkably beautiful. As with all these songs, Cash's interpetation opens up entirely new meaning than you may have heard in the version by the original artist.

On the other side of reflection of course comes redemption. In "God's Gonna Cut You Down," Cash delivers a fire and brimstone sermon on accountability which implores the listener on the wages of sin "that as sure as God made black and white, what's done in the dark will be brought to the light." He goes on to tell "the rambler, the gambler, and the back biter that sooner or later God's gonna cut you down."

If in the Christian faith Cash believed so deeply in, it's true there is sure redemption for the righteous following judgment (as the good book says), I suspect Johnny Cash and his beloved June are enjoying quite a reunion right about now.


This is without a doubt one of the saddest records I've ever listened to. If you cry at certain movies, you may need a hanky or two to listen to A Hundred Highways.

It is also remarkably poignant and beautiful, and a fitting final chapter to one of the greatest stories in music history.

As of this writing, it's the record to beat for Best Album of 2006.

The US vs John Lennon

There has never been a worldwide phenomenon quite like The Beatles. And there has never been a songwriter, musician, social and political activist quite like John Lennon. Ever since his assasination in 1980, Lennon has been remembered in the media primarily for both his music and as a world crusader for peace. It all sounds perfectly innocent and benign.

But what people forget is what a controversial Lennon actually was at the time. Today's politicians in particular, also have conveniently forgotten just how much of a threat Lennon was viewed as by our government, and the lengths that same government went to in it's efforts to silence him.

A certain to be controversial new documentary from Lions Gate Pictures scheduled to hit theatres in September is sure to change all of that. The U.S. vs John Lennon examines Lennon's transformation in the sixties from mop topped Beatle, to the iconic social activist viewed as a national threat by those in some of the highest corridors of power.

Lennon has of course, certainly been the subject of numerous documentaries before, but based on the available pre-release information, this one has the feel of something completely different, and potentially something very powerful.

Where previous Lennon bios have all mentioned the various controversies sparked by his trademark outspokeness--from claiming the Beatles to be bigger than Jesus to posing naked with Yoko Ono for the Two Virgins album cover--The U.S. vs John Lennon zeroes right in on the ramifications of his activism.



While Lennon's legacy today is largely that of a beloved icon, he was equally reviled by many in the sixties because of his outspoken activism against the Vietnam War, and for the causes of peace and equality. Lennon's various crusading not only earned him a spot on Nixon's infamous political enemies list (probably right next to Hanoi Jane), but surveillance by J. Edgar Hoover's FBI.

It's been fairly well documented that his troubles getting legal passage to this country were directly tied to his political activities as well. This film delves head first into that part of the John Lennon story, focusing specifically on those historical events for the very first time.


If the world has forgotten that powerful men like Richard Nixon and J. Edgar Hoover worked diligently and feverishly to keep Lennon out of this country, this film, at least judging by it's trailer (which can be viewed at the top of this page), looks to remove all such cobwebs of memory lapse. At the very least, it confirms that when you piss off those in power, even in a democracy like ours, all bets are off. It can be dangerous.



Utilizing interviews with both Lennon's closest confidants and even a few of his more noteworthy adversaries, as well as some truly remarkable archival footage, The U.S. vs. John Lennon tells the story of John Lennon for the first time as it actually happened.

Filmmakers David Leaf (America: A Tribute To Heroes), John Scheinfeld (Beautiful Dreamer: Brian Wilson and the Story of SMiLE), and Arlene Wszalek (Who Is Harry Nilsson (And Why Is Everybody Talkin' About Him)? have put together what is sure to be one of the most controversial, and talked about pictures this year.

The U.S. vs. John Lennon also draws some very striking parallels between the generationally polarized America of the sixties and the geographically and culturally polarized America of today. Activist musicians of today ranging from Neil Young to The Dixie Chicks might want to bring their notepads along with them to this film.

You can get a ton of information on the The U.S. vs. John Lennon (including the trailer above) at the film's official website. There is also a particularly hilarious and quite clever mockup of The Drudge Report there featuring all Lennon stories. Check it out at The Grudge Report

The U.S. vs John Lennon is in theatres this September from Lions Gate pictures.

War is Over If You Want It.

My (Not So Secret) Life As A Bar Trivia Geek...


Useless knowledge has to account for something right?

So the question becomes, if you have spent several years of your life (usually in your early post high school or college years) in the mad pursuit of aquiring such useless facts as who was the inspiration for Dylan's "Sad Eyed Lady Of the Lowlands", how is such knowledge put to use once the time comes to finally grow up?

Some of us, like myself for example, were fortunate enough to parlay such knowledge into careers in the entertainment industry for a few years as snobby critics or low level record executives (I actually did both).

The select few of us left who hit the nerd's jackpot became millionaire computer poindexters. As for the rest of us? Well think of the comic book guy on The Simpsons or the guy wearing the Spock ears at your nearest Star Trek convention.



For me, this particular dilemna has been dead and center for at least the past several years since I was sent packing home to Seattle from my (actually not so) cushy record label job in L.A. This has been particularly true since I turned fifty a few months ago.

So again, the question simply becomes this:

How do I take my encyclopedic musical knowledge, which served me so well when I was the very poster boy for record store geek in my twenties and thirties, and make it work for me now?

Answer: Bar Trivia Games.

At my local watering hole, The Rocksport Bar And Grill, I've been the king of NTN Trivia for some time now.

Well, that's actually not entirely true. Theres a lot of very smart guys who play there every Friday night, and I can generally hang with them on the general subjects. I hang with them and thats about it actually. I rarely win the big general knowledge games.

But on Rock Trivia? I kick ass.

NTN Trivia is played in thousands of bars across America. If you've ever been to one of them you probably already how it works. You are also probably familiar with the guys and gals who play it. Guys with screen names like "Ratman," "Fetish," and "Cookie," (three of the better players I play with at my beloved Rocksport).

Some use humorous names like "Phoc U" when they can get away with it (Steve, the guy who plays at my bar under that very name is good enough to back that up).

My screen name is "Twoeye."

I'm blind in one eye and used to wear a patch. Back then my screen name was "Oneeye." When I got my glass eye a few years back? Well, you get the drift...

So NTN trivia works like this:

Players are given a handheld device called a playmaker, and answer questions displayed on a screen. Clues are given, and the clock ticks down to the next question. The quicker you answer, the more points you get.

The questions will usually go something like this:

What reclusive 1960's Rock Genius finally released his great lost masterpiece "Smile" in 2005?

1. Kinky Friedmann
2. Bob Dylan
3. Brian Wilson
4. Wild Man Fischer
5. Bobby Sherman

If you answered Brian Wilson you've earned yourself a drink and the right to play me the next time you are in West Seattle on a Friday night.

The etiquette surrounding these games is an iffy thing and will generally vary from bar to bar.

At some places, the bars will comprise teams that share answers in the hopes of placing a national ranking (scores from all participating bars are compiled and displayed following each thirty minute game). At my bar however, things are much more competitive and we go head to head. This can make for some humorous moments.



Like when the drunk passing by the screen will blurt out an answer (which is nine times out of ten going to be wrong) and break the concentration of a devoted player like me. This will piss me off in degrees that can usually be measured in direct correlation to the ammount of drinks I've had that night.

Or when people start making excuses for wrong answers. Among the most popular are "my board died" (which actually can be a somewhat legitimate one) or the perennial favorite, "that's not the right answer!" This usually happens after the player has downed seven or more drinks.

So when I first started playing NTN bar trivia about five years ago it used to be a pretty huge deal at my beloved Rocksport Bar And Grill.

At it's peak in about 2001, the back bar was literally lined up with geeks like myself, boards in hand, ready to match wits with each other.

For the group who played back then it was a Friday night ritual and it was a lot of fun. As for the rewards of playing? Well, I won a few trinkets along the way...T-shirts, concert tickets, and the like. But certainly nothing major. Basically it was all about bragging rights. You got respect from your fellow trivia geeks. There is a certain feeling of superiority when you are able to display your mastery of otherwise useless knowledge.

I very seriously doubt anybody ever got laid playing bar trivia and I certainly know I didn't. That was more the area of the young jocks chasing tail that co-existed with the trivia geeks at the Rocksport.

As with all good things however, times do change.

A few of the guys who used to play got married. A few others moved away. They were replaced by other guys...some really good (theres been one standout named "Dextor" who kicks ass in the current news game).

Others not so much.

For me, and trust me I was a holdout, the Friday night bar trivia ritual pretty much ended six months ago when they passed the anti-smoking law in Washington State. I am much better able to concentrate on the mission at hand when I have a smoke in one hand and a Bud Light in the other.

But you know what? After staying away for six months, I've gone back the past two weeks. And damned if I haven't lost a step. There were differences in atmosphere to be sure. I had to step outside between games for a smoke for one thing. I was only playing against three players at the bar for another (at the peak of trivia night there used to be as many as twenty players).

But I kicked some pretty serious ass in the Rock Trivia games. Can you say #1 in the country on the national rankings two weeks ago? I only hit #3 national last night. Still pretty good for a guy who has stayed away for six months though.

Because useless knowledge has to account for something right?

Has The Relaunch of ECW Already Gone Up In Smoke?

Before we get to this story, a disclaimer is in order. So, for the roughly two of you wrestling fans left out there who think this is all an actual real "sport", you may want to stop reading now.

Have the "marks" left the room? Good.

Professional Wrestling is not the "real" competition portrayed on television by the likes of companies like World Wrestling Entertainment (WWE).

The matches you see on Cable TV shows like WWE's Monday Night Raw and Pay Per View telecast's like Wrestlemania are not actual contests between two (and occasionally more) men for championship belts and titles. Rather, they are athletic exhibitions between real athletes, trained in their disciplines, that happen to have pre-determined outcomes designed to fit the storylines of the shows.

That having been said, professional wrestling is also not a "fake sport," as many of it's detractors are so quick to claim. The manueuvers performed are quite real, and the participants often get legitimately injured. It's a show in the truest sense of the word and it always has been. But it is a "show" where real athletes perform real athletic feats that can often prove to be dangerous.

They also work a far more gruelling schedule than your average NFL or NBA star, where they are often expected to perform as many as 300 plus nights a year. And that is at least part of what this story is all about.



This past weekend, two pro-wrestling stars that were expected to be a major part of of WWE's relaunch of the Extreme Championship Wrestling (ECW) brand were busted for marijuana posession after being pulled over following an ECW "house show" in Huntington, WV.

You can read all about it here

The wrestlers in question were Robert Szatkowski (who wrestles as Rob Van Dam) and Terry Brunk (who wrestles as "the homicidal, genocidal Sabu"). The ECW brand, just re-launched this past month with the "One Night Stand" Pay Per View and a weekly cable show on the Sci-Fi Channel, was expected to be built around Van Dam, and to a lesser extent, Sabu.



As evidenced by it's shows this week, those plans have now apparently gone up in smoke.

Van Dam, who won both the WWE and ECW championships last month at "One Night Stand", dropped both titles this week on back to back broadcasts of WWE's Monday Night Raw and the Sci-Fi Channels Tuesday ECW show. Meanwhile, in the real world, he has been given a 30 day suspension by WWE management.

Now I have no idea where future ECW storylines were going to take Van Dam. What I do know is that these plans were all changed pretty much on the fly this week. The WWE title changed on Monday, which found despised heel (thats wrestling lingo for "bad guy") Edge cheating his way to the WWE title. I really didn't have a problem with that, and actually half expected that was the direction they were going to go this weekend on an NBC Saturday Nights Main Event broadcast anyway.

The ECW title change, which found Van Dam dropping that belt to the 500 pound giant Big Show I find a bit more problematic. As ECW fans are already voicing rather loudly, the re-launch of this much loved brand has had it's share of problems barely a month into it.

If ECW is to succeed as it's own unique entity, it must establish it's own stars. A month into the re-launch, there has already been far too much crossover with the WWE brand. ECW's stars traditionally are young athletic guys (epitomized by Rob Van Dam), where WWE has traditionally pushed the big roided freaks.

Tuesday night's ECW show on Sci-Fi was a mixed bag. They solved some of the problems, most notably taping the show in a smaller Philadelphia arena before a rabid pro-ECW crowd, capturing much of the energy that made the old ECW so special (the Hawaiian shirt guys were even there). Meanwhile the original ECW guys, were all made to look like jobbers (thats wrestling lingo for the guys who lose), right up to Rob van Dam.

New guy Mike Knox beat ECW mainstay Little Guido. Former ECW icon The Sandman did the same two minute caning of some freak (last week it was a male stripper who showed far too much male ass--another problem. This week it was some religious nut), that he's done for the past four weeks. Former (and failed) WWE bigman Test beat the hell out of ECW favorite Al Snow.

Nice way to establish your ECW stars.

Worst of all, a noticeably out of shape and totally winded Big Show beat Van Dam when ECW's "evil genius" Paul Heyman made a classic "heel turn", aiding Show in his tainted victory. That part was actually kind of cool. It was classic wrestling storytelling. But man did Big Show look bad in a match where Van Dam, two days removed from his pot bust, dominated everything as far as the athletic moves went.

This sort of title change, with a classic WWE monster winning the prize before a rabid hometown ECW crowd, does not bode well for the future of this storied franchise. That said, I understand the reasoning. At least, sort of.

With a new "wellness policy" in place, WWE had to address the problem of the weekend pot bust. But that "wellness policy," at least as I understand it, was designed to prevent the premature deaths that have plagued wrestling in recent years. Changing what I assume were long laid plans to launch the ECW brand around Van Dam simply do not fit what was at the end of the day a bust for marijuana. At least outside of making appearances or examples.

The WWE "wellness policy" was put in place to prevent the use of the sort of performance enhancing drugs that wrestlers take either to adapt to the gruelling road schedules WWE demands or the enhanced physiques Vince McMahon seems to like to push. The "wellness policy" is supposed to be designed to prevent premature deaths like those of Brian Pillman, and most recently, that of Eddie Guerrero.

Rob Van Dam is an incredibly talented performer whose time it appeared had finally come. His fondness for "the herb" was also hardly a secret. And certainly not something to change gears over. Something which could affect the already somewhat shaky relaunch of the ECW brand.

That is not to say that WWE didn't need to do something. Of course they did. The whole no tolerance policy toward substance abuse would have been viewed as a sham otherwise.

But to change the whole direction of what was starting to look like a promising ECW re-launch? I guess at this point I'll just wish them luck.

As for the other guy who was in the car this weekend with Rob Van Dam? Well, they did do a promotional spot on Sabu on Tuesday's ECW show.