Death of a WWE Fan
I don't know why I'm writing this. It's on my heart, so I'll just put it out in the universe like so many things online that are overlooked and don't matter.
I was raised a WWF/WWE Fan. My mother used to go watch pro wrestlers in her younger adult days with her bestie and even hang with the likes of Sweet Daddy Siki and his best friend whose name I cannot even remember right now. Ugh, I hate when I can't remember things Mom told me now that she's gone. Anyway she loved it, and my brother and I became wrestling fans during the golden era with Hulk Hogan, the Von Eriks, the Hart Foundation, Andre the Giant-just to name a few-which gave way to the likes to Stone Cold Steve Austin, The Rock and the Degeneration X. In my youth I would watch all this on TV in wonder. I even had small wrestling gatherings in my home. It was fun. Watching this and my mom who is the toughest woman I will ever know gave me the courage to confront my father who didn't make time for me, and I gave him an ultimatum to decide in two weeks if he wanted to be in my life or out. He decided in, and I wonder if I hadn't taken a stand, would we have gotten as close as we did before he died. And a special thanks to Stone Cold Steve Austin for keeping me inspired to have a backbone in Corporate America. I worked my ass off and was overlooked and disrespected, and I took stands for myself with the intellect of my mother and a version of the steel will my dad never taught me.
In adulthood and as a parent, I started letting my son watch WWE with me at age four, because I wanted to talk to him during the show, tell him what was what. As a parent, I still believe parents should really monitor what kids watch and discuss these things with them. so their perspectives don't get twisted. If any of you ever knew anything about wrestling, it is that you've been told it is "phony." Allow me to clarify: the fights are mostly scripted with predetermined stunts and outcome, but people do have to go to school for this and it is very dangerous even if you are well trained. Like any show, there is politics and decisions made that reflect real life and times or pay tribute to people and stories of the past. It is a testosterone charged soap opera, a comic book brought to life week in and week out, except these people can and do get hurt. As a writer, you wish sometimes to see what you've written happen in front of your eyes. Can you imagine this stuff? My son and I discussed outcomes, performer abilities and storylines by the time he was seven. We even made our own WWE shows and put them on YouTube by using their video game. Lots of hours went into that; it was a bonding experience in his preteen years, and unknowingly fed his learning and passion for show promotion and production, which he is beginning to do now after years of just doing parties at clubs ghost writing for rappers.
But I digress here.
When I got a full time job, one of the first things I did was start going to shows. At first, I would only go to local shows which hit my city at least twice a year. Then I started traveling, first to states in the region, then wherever I could afford to save to get to. I got smart and savvy with money, and soon I was traveling a few times a year, sometimes more. I commented on shows and performances online, seeing them more, and honestly, I was critical. I wasn't trying to poo poo on their party, but say, "hey, this could be better." I wasn't a mark-someone who only believed in the two dimension show like my brother, who believed this was true! OMG. I was someone with a theater background and writing ability (got published) who saw the whole thing as it was. I even applied for creative writer a few times, never got an interview, but I tried.
I was a huge Cena fan, and still am. I follow everything he does, because I was there at the beginning to so to speak. I even started a Cena fan club on Cafe Mom, wanting to find friends with similar interests. The lady who started it was a fan, but she also did readings, which was her truer interest. I was asked to be an administrator by the owner, posting commentaries and what ifs. When Cena got hurt, I started writing Fan Fiction Friday, a romance with John Cena. Every Friday, people came to read the story I'd written and in return, I would ask for input, and during pay per views, I would give out prizes I bought on WWE Shop clearance for answering trivia. I was growing the audience. the group! This fan fiction lasted a staggering one hundred and nine weeks with updates going another few times every year for about three years. Then, suddenly, I found out I was being badmouthed by another Cafemom wrestling group admin in chats. Someone said I was really dating Cena-ha, I wish. I squashed that immediately. I never said anything else, I ignored insults, and kept doing what I felt was right, even though the owner seemed unreachable when I emailed. I didn't allow stories on the Cena group that involved drugs and gang bangs, or murders of WWE performers's significant others (yeah, people did that). I just drew that line. Then finally, people started leaving the group, and I found these ladies said things about me that weren't true, were hurtful, really. When the group dropped down to 10 percent of its highest membership, I just stopped doing it. I don't think you can find it now, but I have considered posting the story here, even though it is old. I am proud of it; it is the longest story or series I have ever written.
But good things still came of that. I made friends with a few ladies who I am still in contact with to this day, one in particular whom I will call Mav. Mav and I were like soul sisters, and we shared the same love of wrestling. We wrote WWE shows and commentaries on their website, getting alot of fan attention. We even saw them use their ideas, which was nice, but I felt this should get us respect of some kind. We even went to our first Mania together, Wrestlemania 25. It was a helluva ride, and we did this quite a few more times, once with a fellow female fan whom I will name Tinkerbelle, whom I also shared a fanhood of Supernatural with. I even met John Cena quite a few times at cons, and he knew about me, so he was very nice to me every time-every time.
I kept writing, but let me tell you when I saw it all go to shit.
John Cena's girlfriend at that time Nikki Bella, got the belt. I was upset. I had seen better performers not get the nod, and I wasn't happy about it. I said giving her the belt was like giving a 16 year old a Porsche. I meant that, but after, I was surveyed by security like I was crazy person. If I sat near the front, a member of security would come down on one knee in front of me. This isn't my imagination. It happened several times. One time a her sister was trying to give a little fan something of hers and it got caught in her hair. I tried to help her, but instead she ripped it out-hair and all-staring at me with such hatred. That's when I knew criticisms were being taken very seriously. And I got insider info that the Bellas aren't nice when cameras click off years later, so I realized I'd been smeared.
Another instance, and this is a TRIP. I went to WM28 in Miami. I was alone this time. Even though I went with Mav to Manias I still traveled alone or with my son if I so desired. I paid big money for this, the main event being between The Rock and John Cena. We are in the Rock's hometown after his initial movie stardom, and he was often overlooked for the championship because honestly Stone Cold Steve Austin and Degeneration X ruled at the time of the Rock's career, not leaving alot of room for growth. I knew who would win, but when I saw the match it was terrible. I expected to see two men at top condition fight out a match to the likes of Undertaker VS HBK at Wrestlemania 25. Maybe that was my mistake. I hated it. I was vocal online, and really lashed at the Rock, considering him the veteran of the two in the match, and young enough to deliver. Anyway, I went to a house show (house show means non-televised) and I lucked out with front row seats. Security pings me, and wouldn't you know it, they move a guy who was sitting next to me out and put this four hundred black suited bodyguard next to me. I was so upset. I didn't deserve that. At shows, I'd always helped security (I live in a big city and I'd been to so many events I could see things before they happened and I would alert stadium security-they appreciated that in every city I ever went to). I wrote about the partitions and how children run into them full speed to try to get a look at the wrestlers and that they were unsafe. I wrote an article about how to attend events and make it worthwhile for less, and I saw some things happen there, too. I went to shows and soon wrestlers would physically step away from me and come close to the person next to me. They wouldn't even look at me.
So, the pen (or keyboard) is truly mightier than the sword, just not the way I thought.
I stopped going to shows. I was tired of being pinged or flagged when I never so much as been arrested or been in an altercation my whole life. I was always the peacemaker and customer service person in every job I ever had (work in corporate human resources and with children dominate my resume), even in my life when I began looking after my mother when she became ill. I stopped going to shows because I felt bullied, my last ones attended being the year my mother died. My brother was still devout and I kept watching for awhile, stopped commenting, but then I started dropping off. My brother was hurt, and it took years for me to tell him what happened, but he sadly understood when I did, but encouraged me to keep writing, not to give that up, and never stopped praising me on the work I did with kids. He still gave me updates and I would watch update shows so we could talk about it.
A veteran appeared at a popular venue not long ago. I told the man I did not like Vince McMahon. I kinda don't. After seeing ideas and reactions to my commentaries without so much as an acknowledgment made me resentful, yet he had nothing but good things to say. I balanced my perspective. He was inside, I was looking through a glass. It is how it is. Privilege. I am not. Leaving Corporate America to work with kids? Writing your heart out on sites because it is who you are? Wow, that means you are passionate and creative, but privilege? No. I always thought it might spell out success, but I'm no longer sure about that. Anyway, I got autographs for my brother and thanked the wrestler for his time.
My brother died last year. I couldn't even find a cross for him in all the jewelry he had, so I buried him with a WWE Spinner Cena medallion around his neck from my WWE collection. He was a die hard fan, and he loved WWE. I am glad we got to go to a show together some years before; it only happened once, and I am grateful for it-I scored front row for us, got a wave from John Cena who graciously recognized me-he really thought I was someone that night. Gotta laugh about that. Li'l sis-Baby Girl-getting props from big brother.
So what now?
Sometimes I think about going back to watching. Maybe someday I will. If it's in NOLA I l might go (because I LOVE NOLA almost as much as Boston). But anyway, just to let you know, they watch what you are saying and doing out there. Some laugh it off, some take it hard and to heart and may even villainize you or make your life difficult. This could be said for anyone of high entertainment or popular status. I was sitting there thinking no one cared what I wrote-well, they do-at least in criticizing performance. They saw it as hate, and I just really gave a damn. I've never gotten anything negative about fanfics, but I also have tried to be respectful to the person or person's character and the fantasy for readers. Hard balance. I try.
So, there it is, Death of A WWE Fan, maybe two.