Will Eric Young's Heel Turn Pay Off?

He’s been tarred and feathered. He’s been spray painted. He’s been forced to scrub toilets. He’s been paraded about on national TV in a Sponge Bob bikini. On one Thanksgiving, he was forced to dress up as a turkey and run about the ring like a high school basketball team mascot. Not long after that, he sank to a personal all time low by donning a cape and tights and claiming that he was a comical super hero.

TNA fans know him as Eric Young, Jeff Jarrett’s personal stooge and whipping boy.

For the past five years, anytime Jarrett got an inkling that his viewing audience needed a cheap laugh, he turned to Eric Young. And to his credit, Young gamely played along. It didn’t matter what the gimmick was or how much of a fool Jarrett was making of him, Eric Young was the consummate team player, agreeing to virtually anything in hopes of getting TNA some attention or getting a new kid on the block over with the fans.

It only makes sense that Young is now finally turning heel.

Even a blind hog can find an acorn now and then, and whether they realize it or not, TNA’s creative team has a potentially red hot angle on their hands. It’s the perfect setup – a young wrestler is forced to play the role of a clown for five years of his career. Eager to please, the young wrestler cooperates, hoping that his diligence will pay off in the long run. But after years of being a flunky, he finally gets fed up. He’s so fed up, in fact, he’s downright angry. And that anger has made him mean.

And determined.

Mix anger, meanness, and determination together with a history of being relegated to secondary, silly roles and you have the perfect recipe for a very hot angle where the freshly turned heel suddenly blazes a trail to newfound success. His anger transforms him into a sullen bad ass who’s had enough and won’t take crap from anyone.

Why is this angle potentially hot? Recall the buildup of a character by the name of Stone Cold Steve Austin, or how about the character named The Rock. Both guys were cut from the same cloth – they were previously mid-carders who had floundered in outlandish roles and nonsensical angles but then managed to cast off the silliness and catapult themselves to main event status by adopting mean, take-nothing-from-no-one, bad ass attitudes.

Who could forget Stone Cold flipping off the crowd, the referee, the locker room, and the boss himself?

Who could forget The Rock with his cool shades and that one cocked eyebrow?

Who could forget how WWE’s ratings skyrocketed? Who could forget how these two characters fueled WWE’s comeback and eventual total victory in the Monday Night Wars?

If TNA plays its cards right, it just might have a similar ace up its sleeve in Mr. Eric Young.
Imagine an angry, scowling Eric Young beating up anyone who tries to stand in his way. Imagine a bitter, vengeful Eric Young choking out a young, up-and-coming heel who tries to mock him the way he had been mocked in the past. Imagine ring security coming down to pull Young off the heel, only to get beat up and tossed out of the ring by Young, too. And to top it all off, imagine Young giving the crowd an up-yours when they dare to boo him or give him any lip.

All of this, of course, assumes that TNA will run the angle correctly. It all assumes TNA will remain patient with Young’s new persona, build it slowly, and allow Young to really run with it. It also assumes TNA will actually give Young a real push and let him win lots and lots of matches.

Therein lies the potential problem. If history is any guide, TNA will probably not do this. Instead, they will flip Young over to heel, give him a mild push, let him beat some other mid-carder (Rhino?) at a pay-per-view, and then abandon the angle in favor of a Knock-Out thumbtack battle royal or another Main Event Mafia internal power struggle. TNA, you see, expects instant results, and angles like turning a former foil into a vengeful bad ass just don’t work that way. Like a fine wine, they take time to come to their fruition.

So TNA’s creative staff, with their short attention span, will likely get bored and impatient and just stuff Young into some other silly costume and tell him to “do what he does best,” make ‘em laugh.

Let’s hope for both Young and TNA’s viewing audience that TNA decides this time to show a little patience.

Origins of the Pro Wrestling Con Game

Sometime in the early 1930s, a group of mobsters looked upon a range of barren, sun baked dunes and saw gold.

Las Vegas.

In 1933, Congress and state legislatures ruined the mob's primary source of income by ratifying the 21st Amendment, the consitutional amendment that repealed prohibition and forever since made alcohol consumption legal. Prior to the amendment's ratification, alcohol was illegal and the mob got rich by distilling and selling it on the black market and in secret speakeasies that flourished in Chicago and New York.

When alcohol became legal again, the mob found itself needing a new racket.

Casino gambling fit the bill perfectly.

The mob built Las Vegas into a glitzy neon boomtown. The place virtually printed money.

Eventually though, starting in the 1960s, corporate America came to the realization that casino gambling could be legitimate business. All they needed to do was wrest control of the casinos from the mob and then run the mobsters out of town. Eventually, organized crime was entirely purged from casino gambling and the thrill of "winning big" became honest business.

Like casino gambling, pro wrestling was also once a shady racket operated by crooks and grifters that eventually became a legitimate corporate enterprise. It all started sometime in the 1800s in traveling carnivals, where outrageous sideshows and rigged games of chance were a huge appeal and the entire operation was run by fast-talking con men commonly referred to as "carnies."

Since all the carnival's games of chance -- like tossing a ring around the neck of a bottle or throwing a ball to knock down a stack of milk jugs -- were rigged, carnies had to fool customers into believing the games were legit. Like in the case of the ring toss, a common gimmick was for the carnie to say to the customer, "My good man, if you can toss this ring onto the neck of that bottle, you'll win this wonderful prize for your lady. Here, allow me to demonstrate..." He'd then proceed to toss a ring and, sure enough, hit the neck of the bottle, making the challenge look straightforward and easy. But when it came time for the customer to step up to the line to attempt the challenge himself, when the customer wasn't looking, the carnie would quickly switch rings, handing the customer a much smaller ring than the one he tossed during the demonstration.

Simple sleight-of-hand tricks like this were amazingly effective, but not everone was so easily fooled. So whenever a carnie found a real doozy of a sucker -- one especially easily snookered or one with especially deep pockets -- the carnie would physically mark the guy by secretly sticking something on his clothing while patting him on the back in mock congratulations or by pinning a "prize" ribbon on his lapel. This, in effect, silently screamed to the other carnies, "Hey! This guy's a real sucker! He'll fall for anything. Don't let him get away from you!"

Eventually, carnies started calling such marked men just that -- "marks." It was their secret lingo to indentify rubes, fools, and dimwits -- the lifeblood of the crooked operations that they toured from unsuspecting town to unsuspecting town all across the country.

Convincing a mark to play a rigged game and then stringing him along to keep him playing even after he lost a few times was called "working" the mark. And the better the carnie was at parting the mark from his money, the better the "worker" he was. And the best worker could always sense when a mark was either getting wise to the con or was out of money. In either case, he would give the mark the "blowoff," that is, send him on his way so the carnie could find another mark to work.

At the turn of the twentieth century, the traveling carnival shysters discovered a new way to stay in contact with their families back home. Calling long distance was expensive back then, so they would reverse the charges. When the operator would ask, "Whom should I say is calling?" the carnie would respond, "Kay Fabian." When the carnie's family member receiving the call on the other end would hear, "I have a collect call from a Kay Fabian. Do you accept the charges?" he would simply decline. That way the carnie's family would know he was all right without the carnie having to spend a nickel on long distance.

This trick became so common, the fictitious name Kay Fabian found its way into the carnie lexicon. It was eventually shortened to "kayfabe" and became a signal word used by one carnie to alert another that a mark was within earshot and they should shut up about whatever con they were scheming. Oddly, "kayfabe" went on the become a sort of code of honor amongst thieves. Since their entire operation relied on suckers not knowing the truth about their rigged games of chance, to "respect kayfabe" meant to keep carnie secrets secret and to "break kayfabe" was to be a rat, a snitch, or a bigmouth.

If a carnie deemed a new prospect trustworthy of being taught the secrets of their cons, the newbie would be "smartened up," and brought "in." So if one carnie introduced a new guy to another carnie, he'd say, "It's OK, he's 'in.'"

In the late nineteenth century, wrestling -- legitimate, bloody collar-and-elbow wrestling -- was arguably the most popular sport in America. It was, in fact, Abraham Lincoln's favorite sport. Always looking for a new way to con money out of people, carnies devised a way to cash in on wrestling's popularity. They offered up a new game of chance -- wrestle the carnival's strongman. Any man in the audience who could last a certain number of minutes with the beefy brute -- a bruiser who could bend horse shoes with his bare hands and tie iron bars into knots -- would win a large cash prize. Carnies would take bets on who would win, either the strongman or the brave challenger from the audience. Of course, the guy in the audience was just a plant, and the carnie who collected the bets would whisper to the two men who should win.

This con hinged on the bout looking legit. If the audience got a sense that the fight was fixed, the jig would be up. So the strongman and the plant went to extreme measures to make it all look real. Soon they discovered that if they sliced their foreheads with a small blade when no one was looking, the wound would gush a sickening amount of blood without being truly grievous. Blood would get everywhere and all over both men, assuring the marks in the crowd that the match couldn't be fixed...after all, no one gets bloodied in a fixed fight, right?

Quite by accident, the carnies struck gold -- red gold. The sight of blood appealed to the primal nature of carnival audiences, and soon the allure of gore and brutality drew more people who had more interest in seeing blood than in betting on the match's outcome. So the "contestents" decided they would take turns "blading" or "doing color."

Crowds swelled, and soon the carnies realized that their shows had outgrown dusty fairgrounds. They needed a new, bigger venue, one where they could pack in bigger crowds regardless of the weather and provide tiered seating where people in the back could see the action over the heads of the people in front. So they moved the shows to arenas and auditoriums but continued the traveling carnival's tradition of "getting the show on the road," booking events in dozens of bigger towns along a preset circuit.

But regardless of how big the crowd got or how bright the lights burned, the whole thing remained a con perpetrated by grifters. Convinced marks would stop buying tickets if the true nature of the game was exposed, wrestlers and promoters were sworn to the kayfabe code of secrecy and guarded it zealously. The "business" (as shysters are prone to refer to their confidence tricks) had to be "protected," and rats had to be silenced. And only guys who could be trusted were "smartened up" and brought "in" to the operation.

Along the way, other mobsters saw the cash being made hand-over-fist in the pro wrestling (and boxing) events and decided they wanted a piece of the action. They managed to convince their state legislatures that pro wrestling was a violent sport that needed to be "overseen" and "regulated" by an "athletic commission" that would act as a governing body and approve events. In reality, they were just mobsters who had gotten a government mandate to fleece pro wrestling carnies for a cut of the profits. If carnies wanted to run their con in a given state, they would have to bribe the athletic commission to get a license to operate. If the carnies balked or just decided they'd take their business elsewhere, the mobster "commissioners" threatened to expose pro wrestling for what it really was.

Thus the pro wrestling carnies and the "athletic commission" mobsters eventually arrived at an uneasy agreement: Commissioners would get their cut so long as they turned the other way, kept their noses out of the carnies' business, and didn't reveal the secrets of kayfabe. It was a rule that endured for many decades up until a fateful moment in 1989.

In February of 1989, Vince McMahon, Jr., the owner of the World Wrestling Federation, went before the New Jersey state legislature and petitioned it to exempt the WWF from the licensing fees levied by the the state athletic commission. His reason? Because, he explained, pro wrestling was fake.

He had come clean, and now it was officially on record. It was time, McMahon explained, for pro wrestling to "level with its audience" about its true nature. It was time, he claimed, that pro wrestling stop deceiving the public. Of course, don't for one second make the mistake of thinking that McMahon did this to make pro wrestling more honest or to purge it of its carnie influences. No, McMahon came clean because he was fed up with being fleeced by the athletic commissions. By coming out on his own, the athletic commissions could no longer blackmail him by threatening to reveal the secrets of kayfabe.

Vince McMahon, the son of the retired carnie who had operated the Worldwide Wrestling Federation for many years, had purchased the promotion from his father and immediately set about to rewrite all the carnie rules that had been in place for over a century. Needless to say, that didn't sit well with other wrestling promoters. They feared that McMahon's kayfabe admission and his concurrent attempt to take the WWF national would ruin the business for everyone. But by hook or crook, McMahon out-conned them all and eventually put them all out of business.

Like how the mob lost its grip on the casino gambling empire it had created, the carnie influence was quickly draining out of pro wrestling.

But the carnie influence isn't gone all together.

Interestingly, carnie/conman terms like being "in," getting "smartened up," "mark," and “blowoff” are still very much a part of the pro wrestling lingo, a testament to its seedy, crooked origins.

The Consummate Heel

He's cocky. He's arrogant. He's a braggart. When he talks big smack about himself, he comes across serious as a heart attack.

When he wins, he gloats and showboats. He gets in the face of the opponent he just beat and does elaborate victory celebrations to humiliate and anger him.

In interviews he talks in a controlled tone but is at no loss of words about how great he is, how worshipped he is, and how no one stacks up against him. He lets the world know that he is the best -- the best there is, the best there was, and the best there ever will be.

And his performance backs it all up. He is one incredible, unstoppable athlete.

He is reviled by the fans. Fans pay big bucks for tickets just to come boo him and hope that he loses. If it's one of those rare occasions when he does lose, the fans laugh and mock him, and he sulks, broods, or throws a childish tantrum, much to the fans' delight.

In short, he is the consummate heel.

He is the model for all heels in pro wrestling to emulate.

But there's just one problem -- he's not a pro wrestler.

He's the Dallas Cowboys' star receiver Terrell Owens.

All pro wrestlers today who fancy themselves as heels should study Owens' style. If they did, there would be more fans at pro wrestling events.

Admit it -- if you're a football fan and root for any team other than the Cowboys, you hate Terrell Owens. Yet, if the man retired tomorrow, you'd be sad. Why? Because you love to hate him. He's the JR Ewing of pro sports. He gives you some extra incentive to tune in every Sunday.

And you better believe that, although they pretend to be against his antics and misconduct, league officials and team owners love T.O., too. Why? Because he does what all good heels do.

He puts asses in seats.

Why is Terrell Owens such a great heel? Let's take a look.

First of all, he's sincere. Sincere about his own greatness, that is. Ask any heel pro wrestler about how good he is (when he's in character, of course), and 99 times out of 100 you'll get a very bad Muhammed Ali impersonation. He'll puff out his chest, raise his nose ridiculously high in the air, and then start spouting off absurd, over-the-top braggadocio: "I'm the greatest wrestler in the universe! No one can beat me! I can beat God with one arm tied behind my back!"

Ask Terrell Owens, "Who's the best receiver in the game?" as Dateline NBC did in late 2006, and you get this: "I‘m gonna say myself. I know there are a number of guys out there and I can name, some of the top guys in there. But, you know, that’s just me having confidence in myself."

See the difference? The wrestler's boasts are nothing but a laughable bad acting job. Owens' response was sincere. This guy truly believes he is the best in the sport, and he says so. Most guys would have ducked that question or, out of humility, would have just named someone else. But not T.O. No way. He's going to tell you how good he is and he's going to tell it to you straight, so that you believe he believes what he's saying.

Americans hate a braggart. To Americans, it's OK to be great. It's OK to be larger-than-life. You just have to be gracious and humble about it.

It's not OK to be great and say so. And it's certainly not OK to celebrate your own success.

Which is exactly what Owens does best. Like when he borrowed a cheerleader's pom-poms and joined the girls in a victory cheer after he scored a touchdown. Or when he grabbed a fan's popcorn and splashed it in his face. These antics delight the fans of the team he plays for but elicits rage and hate in the hearts of the opposing team...and in the hearts of anyone who doesn't have T.O. on their team.

Owens takes poor sportsmanship to new heights. Not only does he excessively celebrate his own success, he openly taunts players he's just beaten for scores.

Example: After just scoring his 100th career touchdown, Owens pulled a towel from his waist, folded it over his arm, and then presented the ball to the opposing team as if he was a waiter serving up a meal.

Another example: Just last year, in a game against his former team, the Philadelphia Eagles, Owens scored a touchdown and then flapped his arms like wings of a bird -- an obvious mockery of the Eagles' own celebration jig. This raised a deafening chorus of boos from the fans in attendance, prompting Owens to comment later, "There's a lot of love in those boos."

His most outrageous case of excessive celebration and outright mockery of his opponents occurred over eight years ago and is now known as the infamous Texas Stadium Incident. This particular event should be required study material for any aspiring heel pro wrestler. Why? Because it was classic villain behavior early in Owens' career that immediately catapulted him to larger-than-life status.

It went down like this. Owens was playing for the San Francisco 49ers at the time. Everyone knows how passionate the people of Dallas are about their Cowboys. To the good people of Dallas, the Cowboys' big blue star is almost a religious symbol. Owens knew that, too -- and that's what inspired him to do the unthinkable.

After scoring his first touchdown of the game, Owens was not content with the standard endzone celebration. Instead, he decided he wanted to rile his opponents and their fans by doing a victory dance -- right smack dab in the center of the Cowboys' blue star on the 50 yard line.

Fans were livid. The Cowboys' players were insulted. Owens' teammates were appalled.

It was shere poor sportsmanship and pure showmanship. It was the ultimate in self-congratulation.

But that wasn't enough. When Owens scored again, he decided to repeat the act of mockery. He ran out to the 50 yard line and placed the ball square on the Cowboys' star and prepared to outdo his previous performance. But then, unbeknownst to Owens, something else happened, something very familiar to pro wrestling fans -- a babyface appeared at the last second to stop the heel from his committing his evil act.

Cowboys safety George Teague, determined not to allow Owens repeat the sacrilege of desecrating the Cowboys' star, ran after Owens, and right as Owens placed the ball on the Cowboys' logo and started his celebration, Teague kicked the ball away and decked Owens. Owens then did what all heels do when confronted this way.

He retreated.

Cowboys fans the world over cheered in appreciation of Teague's bravery and laughed at Owens as he slinked away, beaten.

This event is now listed as one of the top ten most memorable moments in Texas Stadium history.

Of all Owens' heel-like antics, though, what stands out the most is his fierce feud with Eagles quarterback Donovan McNabb. That feud is the stuff of legend, and the animosity that came from it still smolders to this day.

The year was 2005. The Philadelphia Eagles were coming off a disappointing loss in Super Bowl XXXIX, and Owens came to realize that he was slated to make "a mere" $3.5 million for the season, an amount that did not place him in the top ten highest paid receivers in the league. So he protested and demanded that he get a new contract -- even though he was already under contract. The Eagles, of course, balked. So Owens became disgruntled and said to the media, "I wasn't the one who got tired in the Super Bowl."

The comment was clearly directed at McNabb, and it implied that Owens placed all the blame for the Eagles' Super Bowl loss squarely on McNabb.

A few months later, Owens did the unthinkable when he proclaimed that the Eagles would be much better off if they had Brett Favre as their quarterback instead of McNabb. Soon after, McNabb and Owens were no longer speaking to each other, and the entire Eagles team imploded.

To this day, the two men don't like each other, which shows us again why T.O. is such a great heel -- that is, great heels spawn great feuds that endure for many years. Just think Flair v. Steamboat, Raven v. Dreamer, Debeers v. Snuka...

Enduring, heated feuds sell tickets and win TV ratings, whether your sport is pro wrestling or pro football.

Within recent times, when Dallas was in the hunt for the Super Bowl, T.O. appeared to have turned over a new leaf. He even stayed loyal to his team and Tony Romo, Dallas' star quarterback, after Dallas suffered a disappointing loss to the New York Giants in the playoffs. Romo fell victim to harsh criticism from the media for taking a vacation a week before the game, but T.O. refused to pin the blame on him.

"We lost as a team. We lost as a team, man."

What's this? A face turn for T.O.?

Not so fast! Any face turn proved to be short-lived for Owens, who is once again up to his old tricks now that Dallas has struggled this season. After a loss to the Washington Redskins, Owens whined about not getting the ball enough, even though the Cowboys threw the ball his way 18 times and handed off to him twice in end arounds. That means the Cowboys gave him the ball 20 out of 58 total offensive plays -- yet to him, that wasn't enough.

And last week, while basking in the glory of a 35-22 victory over the hapless San Francisco 49ers, T.O. took all the credit for the win: "They unleashed me today." Pro wrestling heels, are you listening? This is how you gloat!

Football fans worldwide heaved a sigh of relief at hearing T.O. gloat like this. The guy they love to hate is back to his old ways.

So what have we learned from Terrell Owens, the consummate heel? Let's make a list. First, be damned good. Next, be cocky and confident. Third, be sincere and straightforward when you tell the world how great you are. Fourth, mock your opponents, especially after defeating them. Fifth, be a coward. Sixth, develop long-lasting, bitter feuds. And finally, whine.

A lot.

It's bad guys like T.O. that electrify the viewing audience and keep fans coming back for more, week after week.

Shadows of WCW

In 2001, World Championship Wrestling, one of the largest, most venerable, and most popular wrestling promotions of all time, imploded.

Dead. Gone. Kaput.

Its bones were then picked clean by its former arch rival promotion, the World Wrestling Federation.

Just like that, a mega wrestling federation that had run shows all over the world and had free TV exposure on two of the largest cable networks going, collapsed like a house of cards.
Many reasons for WCW's failure have been documented -- poor booking, repetitive and nonsensical storylines, discord amongst the promotion's top dogs and top brass...
But one reason stands out among them as the chief reason for WCW's ultimate demise -- its failure to breed new talent.

In pro wrestling's golden age, the country was divided into geographical territories and each territory was a promoter's exclusive "turf." That is, promoters did not run shows in other promoters' territories, thereby assuring that there would always be a certain number of big, profitable promotions.

The promoters of that day were smart. They recognized that the key to consistently packing fans into their arenas was by constantly giving them something new. And they did this by swapping talent. As soon as one guy got overexposed in one territory, he'd be swapped with another overexposed guy from another territory. To the fans of the respective territories, those two wrestlers were brand new and gave them something to respark their interest.
Pro wrestling was always fresh, always exciting, always unpredictable.

Then came Vince McMahon and his campaign to take the WWF national and pretty soon, those days were over.

Even so, one thing has always remained the same about pro wrestling -- to generate consistent profits, you have to keep bringing in new faces, fresh blood.

It's a common sense fact that WCW somehow forgot. Instead of pushing its newer talent hard and into the main event lineup, younger sensations like Rey Mysterio, Billy Kidman, Chris Jericho, Evan Karagias, and Lance Storm languished around the mid card and were relegated to feuding over the second rate Cruiserweight title. Instead of grooming the superstars of tomorrow, WCW chose to just rely on its old reliables -- Hulk Hogan, Randy Savage, Ric Flair, Kevin Nash, Scott Hall, and Sting.

During this period WCW developed only one new bona fide superstar in Goldberg.
Not surprisingly, fans got bored and lost interest. Ratings tanked, arena attendance plummeted, and merchandise collected dust on shelves.

Now, eight years later, many fans are wondering if TNA is making the same exact mistake.
And so are we here at Pro Wrestling Arena.

Since May 13, 2007, TNA's World title has been held by three men -- Sting, Kurt Angle, and Samoa Joe. For comparison's sake, during the same period, the WWE Championship was held by John Cena, Randy Orton, Triple H, Edge, and Jeff Hardy, a veritable who's who of post millennial superstars.

One must look no further than TNA's Main Event Mafia, the stable of heel wrestlers who have been dominating story lines for the past few months, for clear evidence of TNA's reliance on the older generation of stars to win ratings. And the obvious big problem with that is, while the old timers hog the spotlight, the younger guys get denied the opportunity to develop their stardom in the eyes of fans -- something that normally takes many years for a young wrestler to do.

To back up our theory we conducted a poll of 100 random pro wrestling fans. For our survey, we put together a list of names of some of the members of the Main Event Mafia, some of the names of TNA's younger talent, and a few bogus names as red herring. We then asked the fans to identify all the names on the list who are not currently and have never been TNA wrestlers.

The results surprised us. Take a look:

Sting 0
Kurt Angle 0
Booker T 2
Kevin Nash 2
Scott Steiner 4
Samoa Joe 1
AJ Styles 3
Alex Shelley 19
Jay Lethal 27
James Storm 31
Johnny Devine 47
Frankie Kazarian 49
Andy Douglas 74
Jake Milliman 88
Randy Mulkey 91

Now our survey was very informal and far from scientific, but the results were intriguing just the same. The last two names on the list were dead giveaways for any pro wrestling fan, as they're jobbers from the 80s. But aside from them, notice that 19 out of 100 self-described pro wrestling fans did not know that Alex Shelley wrestles for TNA. That's almost 20%. Worse, 27 out of 100 thought that Jay Lethal is not and has never been a TNA wrestler. Worse still, almost half polled did not realize that Frankie Kazarian wrestles for TNA. Granted, he's wrestling under a mask now as Suicide, but he's wrestled extensively as Kazarian for TNA in the past.

And Andy Douglas, a former TNA World Tag Team champion, was not recognized as a former TNA star by 74 out of 100 random fans!

Now compare that to the names of the Main Event Mafia. Of the five MEM stars, Scott Steiner was the least recognized with four votes. And every single person we polled knew that both Sting and Kurt Angle wrestle for TNA.

So what does it all mean? One could interpret the data in lots of ways, but one message is almost undeniable -- young wrestlers simply are not getting noticed in TNA as much as the older veterans. They are going so unnoticed, in fact, that many fans don't even realize they wrestle for TNA.

So what does this mean for TNA? One thing is crystal clear -- TNA is living for the moment. The promotion's bosses are cashing in on what little their older veterans like Sting and Kevin Nash have left in the tank.

But the problem is twofold: One, fans are most assuredly growing tired of seeing the same old, same old, and two, when the old guys finally do pack it in and retire, the younger guys behind them who should be already groomed to pick up the torch, will still be viewed as second rate mid carders by fans. When it finally comes time to thrust the young guys into the main events, fans will think, "Wait a minute! These guys aren't superstars! They're fillers!" Or worse, they won't think anything at all and just lose interest and change the channel.

Philosopher George Santayana famously once said, "Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it."

Let's all hope TNA is not condemned to repeating WCW's disastrous end.

Bourne vs. Burchill = Excellence

At last, ECW delivered a pro wrestling match the likes of which have not been seen in a long, long time.

One word sums it all up: Excellent.

Evan "Air" Bourne and Paul Burchill assembled an excellent match that harkens back to pro wrestling's glory days, when fans paid money hand over fist to witness brutal, tough-nosed wrestling action that left them in a confounded state, wondering, "Was that real or not?"

That was exactly what Bourne and Burchill delivered last night. If you missed it, do yourself a favor and find it on YouTube. If you saw it, you are undoubtedly still thinking, "That was awesome!"

What was so great about the match? Simple: It had everything pro wrestling should have and none of what pro wrestling needs to exorcise.

Burchill, in particular, was extraordinarily convincing, albeit a bit stiff. But a few stiff punches, chops, and kicks look absolutely authentic because, well, they are. And no one should ever forget that pro wrestling is not for wimps. If a guy steps in the ring, he can reasonably expect that he will not be injured, but he should not delude himself into thinking that he will never be hurt.

Pro wrestling may be mock combat, but it hurts. And if you want to succeed at it, you better be ready to suck it up -- which is exactly what Bourne did.

Bourne was on the receiving end of a number of tough shots and hard bumps from Burchill. At one point in the match, Bourne mounted the top rope to execute a high flying maneuver, but Burchill caught him in the nick of time with a hard punch to the jaw. Bourne crumpled and flopped to the mat. Later, Burchill backed Bourne into the corner and tossed him into the center of the ring with a perfectly executed release double underhook suplex.

Burchill added a compliment of other textbook moves -- a high elevation backdrop, a precision snap suplex, a classic belly-to-belly -- that amounted to a perfect must-see instructional video for pro wrestlers in training. The match points up the fact that despite all the pomp, showmanship, backstage tomfoolery, and lousy acting, WWE, unlike TNA, still knows how to deliver its core product -- pro wrestling.

Bourne and Burchill obeyed all the rules of a good match. Burchill, the heel, was fully in control at least 70% of the time. As stated often here at Pro Wrestling Arena, the success of a pro wrestling event depends entirely on the strength of the villain. Strong villains make good shows. In addition, while Burchill was a great heel, he did not resort to any out-of-the-ring silliness to convince anyone he was the bad guy. His "sister" Katie Lea was at ringside doing her mandatory bad acting job, but never did she in any way interfere in the match. She did not reach in, distract the referee, or even get up on the ring apron.

Shocking!

And on top of it all, the action was kept inside the ring. Matches that spill out onto the floor are way too overdone nowadays and typically serve no purpose other than to deprive half of the live audience of a view of what's going on. Bourne briefly went outside of the ring once to buy time and "recover" from his injuries, but he quickly got back in and used his reentry to turn the tide of the match.

Bourne and Burchill even got the rest holds right. Too many of today's fans (and wrestlers) think that rest holds are nothing but cheap time fillers that allow the wrestlers to lounge around a bit. Many fans (particularly the younger ones) believe that if everything isn't a high spot or finisher, the match is too slow. In reality, though, just the opposite is true. Well executed rest holds actually can make the match. They allow for a slow buildup of tension and conflict that the babyface must heroically and dramatically overcome to win the day.

Without tension and conflict, there is no story. And no story equals boring show. (Again, TNA should listen up.)

That point is not lost on Paul Burchill, who nearly ripped Bourne's head off with a series of vicious reverse chinlocks and neck twists while keeping Bourne grounded in a modified camel clutch. The viewer couldn't help but think, "That's got to hurt!" As a result, Burchill achieved the goal of portraying a really mean guy who enjoys hurting people, an essential ingredient of the perfect heel recipe.

In the end, Bourne did vanquish the villain, scoring a clean pinfall after hitting his impressive shooting star press. And even though Bourne got the win, Burchill was anything but buried. His domination of the match left fans with a clear sense that the match easily could (and maybe should) have gone the other way.

Kudos to ECW, Evan Bourne, and Paul Burchill for a phenomenal performance that pro wrestling fans desperately need to see more of.

Promoters and bookers of the pro wrestling world, are you listening?

We're Sorry About This

All this past week, Pro Wrestling Arena editors Eric Keller and Omar Alvarez have been working on the "Shadows of WCW" story. They put together a survey where they asked a bunch of so called pro wrestling fans to identify TNA wrestlers from a list of names. Not surprisingly, many of the slack jawed fans they surveyed failed the test.

Regardless, their idea was that the survey would be evidence that TNA is pushing the old farts too much and neglecting the young bucks -- like they needed proof for that astounding, insightful hypothesis. But anyway, they did the survey and gave the results to Marvin McKee to write up. They tell me I'm not allowed to write any "serious" articles anymore. Seriously, they told me that. I'm not allowed to write "serious" articles about pro wrestling.

I didn't realize such a thing existed.

Anyway, the survey Keller and Alvarez dreamt up got me thinking about something that happened to me the other day that really ticked me off. Every two weeks on my lunch hour, I drive to the local barbershop and get a haircut. Ordinarily I don't go anywhere for lunch because I brown bag it every day -- unlike you idiots who eat lunch out every day and then wash it down with a $5 Starbucks coffee drink and then complain about not being able to make your mortgage payment because your lender "ripped you off."

But once every two weeks I take a lunch and make the trip to the barbershop. I have to be quick about it because I only have an hour and am constantly working against newspaper deadlines.

So I walk into the barbershop at precisely 11:30AM, but, lo and behold, there's a line of five old codgers already waiting. Each of these guys is easily 75 years old. And there's only one barber.

It's fricking lunch hour. Why are these retired old coots who do nothing and have all fricking day and contribute *nothing* to society in the barbershop during the one hour that working people -- the people who enable these old timers to play golf and canasta whatever other useless things they do -- have free?

Get out of the barbershop! Get out of my way!

So I walked out of the place and got back in my car. I fired it up and then thought for a moment. I told myself, why am I letting them get away with this? So I got back out of the car and marched back into the barbershop and shouted, "Hey, old timers! Why are you in here? Can't you see working people only have this one hour to get a haircut? You don't do anything! Why don't you come in here at 1:00 or 2:00 or 3:00 when this place isn't busy? You have all fricking day!"

Needless to say, their eyes got big as saucers and their jaws dropped down to their chests. The barber then told me to get out and not come back, but I don't care because I obviously need to find a different barbershop that doesn't cater to old farts at lunchtime anyway.

The point is simple -- if you contribute nothing to society, if you're not paying your dues in life, get out of the way of younger people who are taking society somewhere. Now before you start writing me slews of hate mail saying imbecilic things like, "Well old people already paid their dues! They worked for 50 years!" don't bother. It's just like, say, a health club. If you're a member of a health club for ten years, do you magically and suddenly no longer have to pay your membership dues? Would it make sense to say to the club manager, "Hey! I've been a member of this club for ten years! I shouldn't have to pay membership dues anymore! You've gotten enough money out of me!"

No! Of course not! You only receive benefits as long as you pay for them.

So why do the old timers think they should get a free ride? Why should they be entitled to get in my way at the barbershop and the grocery store?

Get out of the way, old timer! Wait until after productive members of society are served. Now, if you've got a fulltime job -- flipping burgers, handing out carts at Wal-Mart, or serving boozers drinks at the VFW -- fair enough. You're contributing to society. You have a place in line. Otherwise, get out of the way.

How does all this relate to wrestling? Simple: Sting, Angle, Steiner, Flair, Nash, Booker T, get out of the way!

Retire already! You've had your time in the sun. You're old now, both your characters and your bodies. No one wants to look at your broken down, jiggly, balding selves anymore.

Get out of the way!

Let some young guys with real athleticism make a run at realizing their potential. Let some young guys build the pro wrestling of the future.

And one more thing -- stay out of the barbershop at noon!

NICW Means Old School

Two words best describe National Independent Championship Wrestling: Old school.

Many independent wrestling promoters bristle at that label, thinking it suggests their brand of wrestling is somehow out of style, unoriginal, or antiquated.

But not NICW's promoter Kenny Pack. Pack is not only OK with the term "old school," he embraces it.

"Traditional old school is what we do. It's what we're about and who we are," Pack told us in a recent interview. "Tradition means a lot to me, and it means a lot to fans in this area."

NICW runs shows primarily in southwest Virginia, a former bastion of Jim Crockett's southern-style NWA that, during its glory years, went head-to-head with the WWF and featured hard-nosed chain wrestling dished out by legends like Ric Flair, Dusty Rhodes, Terry Funk, and Harley Race.

"Fans in this region remember those days," said Pack, "and it's the style of wrestling they expect. There's still a very big demand for it. And to me, it's what I love. It's what I grew up on. It's wrestling the way it should be."

NICW's fanbase couldn't agree more. While the promotion's following is still growing (shows regularly draw 125 - 150 attendees), its fans are passionate and loyal. Just about every show gets a standing ovation and leaves fans clamoring for more.

"When the entire place is on its feet, shouting for more and not wanting to go home, you know you're doing something right," Pack told us, describing the most recent shows NICW has run in partnership with two other southern independent promotions, Power Championship Wrestling and American Championship Wrestling.

NICW was formed almost eight years ago, when an opportunity presented itself that Kenny Pack couldn't pass up. He and three partners decided to start up an all-new promotion devoted to old school wrestling that he knew Virginians yearned for. Soon, however, two of Pack's partners bowed out. Then eventually the third called it quits, too, leaving Pack as the lone lead dog of the entire promotion, which Pack now admits is the way he likes best.

"One of the promoters of one of our partner promotions recently told me that I was a micromanager, and I told him, 'You know what? If you want something done right, you've got to do it yourself.' And that's just the way it is. Pro wrestling is a business and it has to be run smart like a business."

"It's all about doing things right," Pack added. "You have to have your ducks in a row. Put two guys who know how to wrestle in the ring and stick to the essentials. You know, there are so many other promotions that are doing those newer things, like the soap opera stuff and the hardcore stuff. We don't do that. We do wrestling. I mean, think about it -- how hard is it to hit a guy over the head with a piece of barbed wire? You don't train for eight months just to go out and do that."

And training is essential at NICW. There are no rank amateurs here. Kenny Pack expects the best in wrestling ability and won't accept anything less. Unlike many newer independent promotions that encourage green wrestlers who are still in training to get into the ring at a show as part of the training curriculum, Pack expects guys to be the real deal.

"There's a reason why the word 'pro' comes before the word 'wrestling.' Guys who want to wrestle for NICW need to act professional, look professional, be professional. You know, unfortunately, I think some younger guys today just don't take the business seriously. Years ago, it wasn't as easy to get into wrestling. You had to catch a break and work your way up. You had to hope the right person saw you. But nowadays, a lot of young guys show up and just expect to get all the best matches and get paid what they demand. Heck, a lot of these guys don't even have boots and tights."

Which, it seems, is all too common these days in independent pro wrestling. Show up at just about any indy show anywhere in the country, and there's a very good chance there will be wrestlers on the card wrestling in sneakers, t-shirts, and cutoff jeans.

But not in NICW. No way.

"The way I work it is simple -- to be in one of my shows, you have to have boots and tights. No exceptions. To me, a guy has to be credible as a wrestler. He has to be dependable. In fact, credibility, in a way, means a bit more to me than pure athletic ability. You can be a guy with all the athletic talent in the world, but if you only show up to one out of every three shows, you're no good to me. I'd much rather have a guy who does what he says he's going to do. A guy with credibility."

One guy who has proven his credibility in NICW is its current Heavyweight Champion, Ken Steel. Over the past 14 years, Steel has earned his stripes the old fashioned way -- through hard bumps, furious chain wrestling, thunderous blows, and heated mic work. For the past eight years in NICW, Steel has been dominating opponents with a style that's best described as a cross between the Undertaker and Arn Anderson. And for a guy who's 6'4" and weighs a solid 280 pounds, he shows surprising agility and ring awareness. In 2007, he even cracked Pro Wrestling Illustrated's vaunted Top 500 Wrestlers by clocking in at number 436.

"In 14 years, I have never changed names and I have never changed gimmicks. Ken Steel is the only person I've ever been because I'm so good, that's all I need to be. I don't need any stupid gimmick," Steel snarled at us during a recent telephone interview.

But having first-rate talent like Ken Steel on the roster is only half the battle in running a successful promotion. With big names oftentimes come big egos, and Kenny Pack believes a good promoter must keep that in check.

"Some promoters let the wrestlers run the show, but you're not going to get anywhere doing that. I've seen that a lot -- especially with newer promoters. They'll get some big name guy who'll come in and say, 'We're doing this and we're doing that,' and the promoter will agree! Later I'll try to step in and tell the promoter, 'Hey, don't let that guy walk all over you.'"

"You've got to put your foot down," Pack added. "Someone's got to be in charge. Otherwise you've got nothing but a mess on your hands. Don't get me wrong -- I'm open to suggestions, but the final say is mine."

One thing is for sure -- you can't argue with success. NICW's shows have been consistent draws month after month, and this year, the promotion plans to build a brand new 12,000 square foot state-of-the-art event center where it will run all its future shows and operate its pro wrestling academy.

"Getting bigger and better, that's what I always shoot for," Pack told us. "I'm excited about that new facility. You know, a lot of indy promoters think of wrestling as just a hobby. Well, you aren't going to make any money with that attitude. I'm not a fan of the status quo. You have to push it up, up, up, up. Better shows, better crowd, better talent, better finances. And with that new facility in the future, the sky's the limit."

While Kenny Pack likes to hold the reins in NICW, that doesn't mean he doesn't like to cooperate with other promoters. On the contrary -- Pack believes that what independent promotions need to do more is work together rather than against each other.

"I believe that if we can work together, everyone benefits. Instead of hoarding your talent, why not do a talent exchange? That's exactly what we're doing with Power Championship Wrestling in our upcoming show, NICW/PCW Spring Superslam '09. We're mixing talent, kind of like how WCCW and USWA used to."

As for champion Ken Steel, questions abound over how long the 41-year-old bruiser will continue to rule NICW rings. "I don't dance as well as I used to. I'm still very mobile in the ring, but when I leave the ring for good, it's because I want to, not because someone or something puts me out. I'm not ready to retire quite yet."

And fortunately for NICW fans, when Ken Steel finally does call it quits, NICW's roster is full of championship-caliber competitors ready to fill his spot. But Steel refuses to admit that someone might beat him for the championship before then.

"The only way someone else is going to hold this title is by winning it in a tournament after I give it up!"

While Ken Steel will likely retire someday, his boss Kenny Pack says he probably never will.

"It's been an interesting venture -- a real wild ride," Pack said wistfully. "One time, Boogie [Jimmy Valiant] told me, 'Pro wrestling is like a drug. It's addictive,' and you know, he's right. Once you get into it, it's hard to get out. I can't really explain it -- it's like a life sentence."

A good life sentence, that is.

"Wrestling is a great business. It's great when you enjoy what you do. The camaraderie is great. And my hat's off to the guys who work for me. I have utmost respect for them. Without them, I'd have nothing. We're very tight. We hang, travel, and work together. I think that camaraderie makes for much better shows."

And better shows are what NICW is all about.

Fans can find out more about National Championship Independent Wrestling or its partner promotions American Championship Wrestling and Power Championship Wrestling at the following websites:

National Independent Championship Wrestling - Respect & Tradition Equal Wrestling at Its Best
American Championship Wrestling - Shut Up and Wrestle!
Power Championship Wrestling - Putting the Science Back in Wrestling