I love professional wrestling. However, following the recent Undertaker-Lesnar fucked finish, I canceled my subscription to the WWE Network. Everything about the finish of that match screamed this story makes no sense, especially when a former UFC champion gets put to sleep by a move that looks faker than a politician’s smile. I tried to explain the match to my 15 year old son and he just looked at me with the innocent, questioning eyes of a child and said, “why the fuck are you still watching that stupid shit?”
The (extremely limited) bad news for the WWE is that I haven’t watched a second of Raw since and I haven’t missed it at all. Truth is maybe I love a certain kind of professional wrestling that is deader than most of the 1983 WWF roster. The kind of wrestling I prefer is essentially long form improvisational theatre. For the uninformed:
Improvisational theatre, often called improv, is a form of theater where most or all of what is performed is created at the moment it is performed. In its purest form, the dialogue, action, story, and characters are created collaboratively by the players as the improvisation unfolds in present time, without use of an already prepared, written script. (According to Wikipedia because real research is for pussies).
Now professional wrestling isn’t completely unscripted and wrestlers play characters, usually babyfaces or heels. The nature of their characters should dictate how they approach every issue that confronts them with babyfaces taking the high road and heels cheating to gain an unfair advantage (as the great J.R. Ross describes heels).
So, great actors (see below and do not see Suburban Commando) perform matches where the babyface is put in jeopardy and has to either rise to the occasion or be defeated (depending on how far along any given feud might be).
The audience should care about who wins the match. That means winning and losing must have meaning. The audience must care about the person put in danger. Therefore, the characters must have some appeal and must not be stupid, either in terms of their motivations or their actions. Simple? Very. To sum up, you fucking cried when E.T. died because you cared about him; so, you need to care and be outraged when a babyface is getting eye gouged by a heel.
Ok Retox, so? So what?
Fair enough, watching the WWE recently is more a tedious exercise in suspending disbelief than believing my wife has had a headache for the last 20 years. Both babyfaces and heels routinely do asinine things, such as turning their backs on an opponent just because another wrestler’s music plays. And who the fuck is playing entrance music every time someone heads out to the ring supposedly on his or her own initiative?
Clueless refs are an old standby, but we live in an age of video replay and it’s just foolish not to use it somehow. Meanwhile, the babyface, the supposed hero, often does absolutely ridiculous things to cost himself a match. The ref can be stupid, but the hero? Doesn’t work for me.
Also, the WWE is more talky and boring than Meet the Press. A Raw segment starts with a wrestler taking about four minutes to walk 250 feet to the ring. Then the wrestler or sports entertainer (a phrase makes me want to vomit) stumbles over his words like a 15 year old pretending not to be drunk (you stand indicted Mr. Reigns!). More wrestlers or woefully incompetent management types come out and respond in a snarky, rarely funny and completely unrealistic manner. This goes on for more than a third of an hour including commercials. In the end, there is usually no resolution, but rather a match is hastily contrived, usually on the basis of faulty logic. Yay, there are two hours and forty minutes to go! Of course, all this could be accomplished in four minutes. Fuck, I made three kids in a total of four minutes, so I know what can be accomplished in a short amount of time.
The announcers add nothing to the show because the underlying characters and stories are so poorly drawn that they spend most of their time showing they are as confused as the rest of us about the storyline and what they should be emphasizing. Often, they resort to repeating the same thing over and over, like Michael Cole referring to Dean Ambrose and the Lunatic Fringe about 87 times per match. JBL just flops around, changing his opinions quicker than a guy with a new dictatorial girlfriend.
I can go on and on (and will in follow-up posts), but to me there is no longer anything compelling about professional wrestling. Many of the wrestlers are amazing in terms of their in-ring skills. The risks they take to entertain are all too real, but to me, they often seem unnecessary and actually detract from the overall product. Insane risk, kickout, insane risk, kickout, rinse and repeat is mind numbing. Plus, often the dastardly heel is overcoming obstacles and performing spectacular moves that are more worthy of cheers than the hero babyface. Matches seem more like two guys try to show off cool moves than a competition, unless the competition is to see who can show off cooler moves. If I want to see a dance moves competition, I’ll watch Zoolander again.
A Hall of Famer, sports legend and true original, Yogi Berra passed away. Sometimes minimized to a malapropos machine, this guy was a fucking great ballplayer winning 3 MVP awards. Look up his stats, count the rings and check out the Phil Lenz story. A great competitor and leader and apparently, a helluva guy. God speed, Mr. Berra.
Welcome Twitter fucks. I’m sure millions will flock from my feed to the world’s lamest website. So hey, how’s it going? I like boobs.
Back on July 17, 2009, I wrote a post that was totally fucking awesome, but that stated that the New York Mets will always suck so long as Fred or Jeff Wilpon runs the team.
Now since the trade for Cespedes this year, they haven’t sucked. Although as the starters collectively run out of gas and the relievers flame out, the end of the season may become more interesting than you’d have thought when the Mets left Atlanta up 9.5 games. Barring a miracle post-season run (ain’t happening bro), the test for this team comes next year, when they’re supposed to be good.
First, do they resign Cespedes? (Shakes magic 8-ball) Signs point to Yeah, right, no fucking way. The Mets will do what the Mets do. They will make an offer they calculate seems ok and will sound good to their fans (a group lining up for Kool-Aid as we speak) and that will fall short of an offer that someone in Cespedes’ position would take.
Second, do they go out and get another player than can help them? How about Desmond? Oh, the magic 8-ball rolled away laughing. What is more likely is that we will hear all about how they just fell short, how this or that guy is going to be way better, maybe resign Daniel Murphy, that the kid pitchers will make it through a whole year and that sorta Wilpon speak.
So, Mets fans, enjoy this run. Hopefully, a miracle happens on the field because the miracle of Fred opening his wallet is much more of a longshot.
Youth sports suck. The organizations that sponsor them suck. The coaching sucks. Pretty much everything about them sucks. But I know more about hockey than other sports, so I’ll limit my rant to that.
I speak from experience. I have kid who has played just about every sport (except lacrosse, because why?). He’s been ok to good at most of them. He’s actually a pretty good hockey player. However, the only way to play decent hockey is to play travel. Your school’s hockey team sucks and the only reason it may be any good is if most of the team plays travel.
Travel is the biggest load of shit ever. Here’s how it works. Parent X pays a lot of money ($1,500 to $8,500) to Organization BS so Kid X can play about 45-55 games plus practices. Organization BS is run by Douchebag who’s sole motivation is to keep Organization BS going and maintain his position overseeing a shitload of cash that passes through a non-profit. There is no money in winning or to making better hockey players. So, if Parent Y has 3 kids in Organization BS, guess who is getting more ice time than Kid X? If Parent Y Mom (or maybe Dad) regularly blows Douchebag or just shows off her tits, Kid X is riding the bench. What if Parent Y sends his 3 kids to camps run by Organization BS or its coaches? Kid X rides that bench. See this is the big secret, Douchebag is going to run Organization BS years after Kid X is long gone. So fuck Kid X. Fuck him harder than Douchebag is banging Kid Y’s Mom.
But wait Retox, if Douchebag lives up to his name, why doesn’t Kid X just go somewhere else? Good question, but this is my post, so shut your piehole.
Organization BS is a member of a league, sanctioned by USA Hockey through its regional organization, in New York, its the NYSAHA. In a league, for instance **wink, wink** the LIAHL, the Board is made up by Douchebag and his ilk from other member organizations and they are all heavily involved in the NYSAHA. So, movement is restricted by rule. Once movement is restricted, there is little impetus to excel. So you trot out the same shitty coaches year after year and parents pay through nose and the kids never improve. Now, rules to stop poaching players are important. But the restrictive rules and the heavy restrictions on creating new teams or organizations makes the LIAHL the only game on Long Island for travel hockey. Moreover, member organizations can not create other teams to play in other leagues. So, if Organization BJ decides to start a second U18 team to play in a lesser league, it can be prevented from doing so. More importantly, LIAHL players can be prevented from playing with that separate team.
So, Kid X riding the pine for Organization BS cannot pick up some more games with another team that is an LIAHL member organization. That member organization is forced to play every team it has in the LIAHL, even if that team would disband because nobody wants to play in the fucking LIAHL. Fuck you kids, fuck you hard.
Now you’d think these coaches would be competitive and the organizations would really try to win. First, winning is hard. It takes smarts, commitment and discipline, not to mention hard work and a lot of time. Fuck that. You might have to go get some real coaches. You know what sucks about real coaches? They have opinions. Douchebag don’t like that. Shitty coaches who are organizational men have no opinions. You’ll get a Hrrumph out of that guy every time.
Moreover, despite all of that cash that flows through an organization, very little of it gets to coaches. They are mostly volunteers. But here’s the thing, there is no rule that says that volunteers have to suck.
In the end, this segment of youth sports is just another power/money grab. These fuckers will outwait anyone who disagrees. Assholes Endure.
In July of 2009, I called it. Tiger was fucking done. I said that he would not be the best ever, that he won’t trounce Jack’s records for majors if he reached it all. DONE. Everytime he makes a long putt the world will declare him back because the golf world hopes it will happen. It won’t. His body is breaking down. His confidence is not what it was. More importantly, the other top golfers don’t fold when his name pops up on the leader board.
Now, I was wrong about him having a hot wife. Now he has a hot ex-wife and plenty of hoes. Not shabby. He can always cry on a giant fucking bag of money.