There are few types of obsessed fan that go to the extent that wrestling fans do to show their appreciate for the bastard art of professional wrestling. Part of that is due to the nature of the form itself: as a live event, the audience is as much a part of the story as the action happening in the ring, and a hot crowd can turn a fine technical match into a hugely dramatic big fight spectacular. Were the reason theyre there, after all. George Clooney used to compare his pre-Hollywood fame to his post-movie career fame: when he was on ER, people came up to him in the street, grabbing him or slapping him on the back and treating him like an old friend or hated foe, because he was in their living rooms the same time every week for months out of every year. Once he was doing movies, the fans treated him like a leprechaun theyd just seen out of the corner of their eye. Dont move, dont even blink, or itll disappear. Pro wrestling's more obsessive fans are kind of like TV fans, only a little weirder: after all, it's a worked art form that apes the conventions of movies in telling melodramatic, scarcely credible stories, and invites the fan to suspend his or her disbelief and join in the fun. With that much complicity comes some peculiar notions of entitlement and ownership. Welcome to the freakshow.
Professional writer, punk werewolf and nesting place for starfish. Obsessed with squid, spirals and story. I publish short weird fiction online at desincarne.com, and tweet nonsense under the name Jack The Bodiless. You can follow me all you like, just don't touch my stuff.
