Greetings.
I’ve been watching with amusement and consternation recent developments in the WWE. First, there was the Fatal Fourway, or should I say, the “Futile Foreplay”, in which WWE CEO – Vince McMahon‘s son-in-law and heir apparent, Triple H, blatantly interfered and pedigreed, first, Roman Reigns and then Seth Rollins, after which the WWE Universal Championship – which has been hyped as the ultimate title in the WWE, was then given to Kevin Owens – whom I’m a big fan of, but, nonetheless, did nothing whatsoever, himself, to deserve being crowned the new champion.
Adding insult to injury, this egregious miscarriage of justice was perpetrated in full view of SmackDown Commissioner Shane McMahon (who’d been brought back specifically to prevent crap like this from happening, or so we we were given to believe) and SmackDown general manager – Daniel Bryan – both of whom did nothing to prevent it, nor did they even offer any comments, condemning or explaining their opinion of the whole farcical fiasco.
As a consequence, the perceptible image of the new, heavily hyped WWE Universal Championship has been reduced to something hard to take seriously, which is cause for serious concern, because as former tennis star, Andre Agassi, used to adamantly assert, “image is everything!”
Putting things into perspective, can you imagine the reaction if, during the fourth quarter of a close Super Bowl game, if Patriots coach – Bill Belichek had blatantly tripped some star receiver – such as, say, Larry Fitzgerald of the Cardinals, as he was running down the sidelines, en route to an apparent game winning touchdown, and NFL commissioner Roger Goodell, not only did nothing whatsoever about it, but later on, congratulated Belichek and the Patriots for their Super Bowl victory?
I should note that, regardless of whether the WWE is perceived to be a “work” or not, it still needs to purport itself to be legitimate and, by that token, needs to appear to be adhering to some pronounced set of rules and regulations, because, as I’ve pointed out before, the fans still choose to indulge in the notion that it’s on the level – which, correct me if I’m wrong or off base here, is the main reason why they continue to invest their time, money and emotions in the whole endeavor in the first place.
I might add that if it ever gets to the point where the fans don’t give a damn about the supposed legitimacy of wrestling or have no confidence, whatsoever, in the people running the whole operation, then the future of pro wrestling would be in serious jeopardy – which is something the en-lightened despots in Titan Tower shouldn’t lose sight of.
Adding insult to injury, following the aforementioned Futile Foreplay fiasco, I see where the powers that be in the WWE have seen fit to award the new, supposedly prestigious Tag Team titles to the posterchild for hapless jabroneys – the ubiquitous Heath Slater (and Rhyno). I get what they’re endeavoring to perpetrate here, having the quintessential dark horse, perennial underdog rising above adversity – kind of like Sly Stallone in Rocky, finally rising above adversity and heroically seizing the Holy Grail.
The incongruity however is that Slater, unlike Stallone, is still perceived to be an obnoxious, whiny, wimpy A-hole heel, who’s done little or nothing to endear himself to the fans or to warrant being taken the least bit seriously. Beyond all of that, in Rocky, Stallone won the strap from a supposedly iconic world beater – Apollo Creed, who was feared and revered.
Slater, on the other hand, emerged victorious with the title after having vanquished a motley crew of jabroneys, including the likes of Zack Ryder, the Headbangers and unproven neophytes, such as American Alpha – none of whom have ever been likened to iconic teams from back in the day, such as the Road Warriors, the British Bulldogs, Shawn Michaels and Marty Jannetty, Demolition, the Hart Foundation or the Wild Samoans.
Not to be raining on their parade, but I was equally unimpressed with the WWE seeing fit to create a new women’s “Universal” title belt- which was awarded, after some hastily thrown together supposed tournament, to Becky Lynch, who emerged victorious over a bunch of poor, hapless, supposed contenders, who, other than Nikki Bella were either no name rookies or girls who’ve been reduced to jobber status. Not to be facetious, but, given the WWE’s “more is better” mindset, I’m half expecting that in the next few weeks the WWE will announce that it will also be having some kind of tournament or whatever to crown new SmackDown Intercontinental and United States titles as well.
Even more hard to fathom, but following in the same footsteps of all the illogical overkill we’ve been subjected to lately, but next weekend, of course, marks yet another supposedly earth shattering pay per view – the (drum roll, please) heavily anticipated Clash of Champions – in which the WWE will treat us to (or should I say, inflict upon us) – yet another supposedly star studded, action packed “orgy of excess”, with a myriad of other blockbuster titles matches, including World, Intercontinental, United States, Divas, tag championships and whatever the hell else.
About all I can say is that I’m pleased to see that the RAW version of the world title is now in good hands with AJ Styles and hopefully the powers that be will see fit to have some straight finishes and good old fashioned wrestling and cut back on all the illicit and needless bullshit that they’ve seen fit to inflict on us during the past few, less than scintillating or compelling pay per views.
On that somewhat reticent note, I’ll call this a wrap, but will look forward to catching up with you next week for post mortems on the aforementioned Clash of Champions and whatever else that’s worth noting is transpiring on the wrestling scene.
In the meantime and in between time, take care.
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