(“You know that stuffs fake, don’t you?”)
You are a geek.
There is no need to deny it. Love it or hate it, a geek is what you are. Some people use other names, other terms to describe it; but you’re a geek.
(“That stuffs for kids.”)
You watch Professional Wrestling. Every Monday and every Thursday, your television is tuned in to the WWE. You slap down anywhere up to $35 dollars either every month or every few months to watch a Pay Per View. Sometimes on Sunday Nights, when you really have nothing to do, you secretly wish it was a Pay Per View week. Maybe you even watch Heat or Velocity or Confidential.
(“Those guys cant even act!”)
You remember when it started. Maybe you were a kid and you happened by Superstars on Saturday morning after the cartoons. And you saw this huge man dressed in yellow and red telling you to say your prayers and take your vitamins. He ripped his shirt off in one easy motion and your eyes got big. You watched in awe as this man, who had seemingly been beaten in the ring, begin to shake with every punch thrown his way until finally he stopped, pointed his finger at his opponent, and turned the tide. Or maybe you flipped over on a Saturday night to see a man with flowing, almost white hair come out from the back from the tune of “2001: A Space Odyssey” with a sparkling robe to take on a lean, young man with spiked blonde hair and a painted face. Or maybe it was the day you saw a man in pink and black tights with some cool mirrored sunglasses wrestle his heart out against his more nondescript brother. Or you saw the cockiest guy in the world come out with neat pyro, who was not as big as the other monsters, but he was still champion. Or maybe you laughed along with that bald guy from Texas that was too cold and too cool to be a “bad guy” but too mean to be a “good guy”. Or maybe it was that golden-tongued smart-aleck with that eyebrow who mesmerized you as he dressed another wrestler down. It doesn’t really matter. You got hooked.
(“Only rednecks watch that.”)
You watched even though other people mocked you for it. You watched when your parents sighed in disgust. You watched after you found out it was all fake and it made you feel the way you did when you found out Santa Clause wasn’t real either. You watched when it was too vulgar and you watched when it was too stupid. Even when your favorite guy wasn’t getting his shot at the title and it made you mad, you still watched. Sometimes you didn’t want to. Sometimes you thought, “This will be the last time I watch this.” But then, next week, you couldn’t help yourself. You had to know what was going to happen.
(“That’s nothing but a male soap opera.”)
Then came the internet. And on some Sunday night you didn’t really have the money to buy that Pay Per View. But you wanted to know. It ate at you. Did he lose the belt? Did he win? Did someone turn on someone else and become a bad guy? You didn’t want to wait until Monday night; you wanted to know now. You went to the company’s website, but nothing was there. So you did a search of Professional Wrestling. And you couldn’t believe your eyes. Hundreds of websites at you fingertips. You didn’t know there were so many other people out there like you. You got excited as you clicked the first one and (aside from what seemed like a thousand pop-ups) you were in heaven. There they were! The results you had been looking for! You smiled wickedly to yourself as you read all about the show. And while you didn’t get to see it, at least you knew about it before everyone else.
(“Its just junk television.”)
But you noticed something else before you closed out and went to bed. There were news items. Not just stuff about the storylines, but other things. Backstage things. This guy was injured and wouldn’t be back for a few months (you had wondered what happened to him). This guy was upset because he didn’t want to lose to that guy. Another guy was using his power backstage to keep other guys down. Here was what was supposed to happen on tomorrow night’s show and there was what was supposed to happen months down the road! You couldn’t believe it. Hundreds of things you never knew about were here. You read all you could, went back to your search and went to the next website. You read all you could of that. Then you went on to the next, and the next, and the next. It was like a whole world had opened up to you that you never knew existed.
(“They’re just a bunch of guys who couldn’t make it in real sports.”)
Every day you checked the latest. You learned new phrases like Face, Heel, Mark, Smart, and Kayfabe. You started to read opinion columns from other guys like you. Sometimes you emailed them if you agreed or disagreed. You went to message boards and read them and even posted when you got up the nerve. You found yourself as part of a community. Monday Nights started to become more and more about Tuesday Morning. You made friends online.
(“Those guys know how to fall right.”)
You started to appreciate workrate. You knew about ring psychology. The favorites you used to have now gave way to the underdogs; the guys who went out there and gave it their all to tell a story. You even started to check out indie feds and maybe you even went to a few local shows.
(“See how he stomps his foot when he hits the other guy?”)
Your view of things got hardened a bit. You were no longer satisfied with the same, rehashed storylines. You rolled you eyes at the one minute squash matches. You lamented the fact that a huge, `roided up monster who “blew up” after two minutes was being pushed harder than the real workers. You had become a full-fledged Smart.
(“It only appeals to the lowest common denominator.”)
And what is a Smart? A Geek. A Wrestling Geek. That’s what you are. Thats what I am.
And Im proud of it.
(“You know that stuff is fake, right?”)
Yeah, I know. But its mine.
This is Roland
Look for Part 2 next week.
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