In the aftermath of what was, at best, a lukewarm WrestleMania, the WWE is gripped with a problem that would have seemed astounding to promoters of old. In the days of territorial promotions in the United States, bookers and promoters found themselves at the whim of their fans, compelled by a necessity to deliver the talent that their audiences wanted to see while providing the best overall quality of matches in the ring. While promotions like Georgia Championship Wrestling, Mid-South, WWF, AWA (most of which, at one time, were governed by the NWA) had the most success in conglomerating talent into their promotions, there was still a genuine spirit of competition in the wrestling business that meant, though territories were not in direct competition with one another, you had to offer a certain quality of product to ensure your promotions continued involvement in the wrestling business. With the emergence of cable in the 1980s as well as the advent of World Championship Wrestling and the rise of the World Wrestling Fed-err. Entertainment in the 1990s, direct competition for a mass audience became a very sudden reality, with consequences for the traditional territories, regulated to the distinction of being minor promotions. Despite the dearth of established organizations, the in-ring product for fans of the two big promotions experienced a golden age of quality. While a great deal of this is down to the leniency of Ted Turner in his oversight of Eric Bischoff as well as Vince McMahons penchant for taking risks, all of the managerial hierarchy in both the WCW and WWF/E understood that not only did they have to make an effort to differentiate their in-ring product from the other company, but they had to do so while providing enough edgy content to make fans stand up and take notice. Bischoff bent the perspective of kayfabe in wrestling, creating genuine moments of uncertainty for audiences trying to separate the wrestling from reality, culminating in great edifice that was the N.W.O. The ways in which his approach to the in-ring product breached established norms within the wrestling business opened the product to savvier fans, people who knew the inner workings and choreographing of each show. Though it ran into problems once Kevin Nash began to book for WCW, the organization evolved in the mid-90s into a larger appreciation of wrestling as a spectacle, from the contributions of the cruiserweight division to the careful precision characters like Goldberg and Sting were treated within the story. Vince McMahon opted instead to push the buttons of the FCC, creating an era in which talent could push the boundaries of what had been possible previously in the storytelling aspect of wrestling. Everything became a controversial subversion of topics that were often perceived anywhere from slightly to wholly offensive. The WWF/E created stories that dealt with date-rape, castration, taboo (at the time) sexuality, terminal and mental illnesses, the occult, corporate malevolence, and, especially, revenge, and they did it to see where they could set the new limits of fiction in a more modern and cynical age. The resulting backlash pushed the cultural imprint of the wrestling business closer to the spotlight in America than it had ever reigned previously. It became something with actual social consequences as it finally grew out of its niche as one of many forms of blue-collar entertainment. While Eric Bischoff loved to stir corporate controversy by giving away the results of WWF/E matches and stealing talent, Vince McMahons promotion endured ultimately because the boundaries breached reached much further socially than the WCW. I remember vividly as a kid having to sneak into my playroom after lights out because my mother abhorred what she heard about wrestling. It was considered low culture by our elders, and only with the experience of having seen the Attitude Era as it unfolded, teamed with a generous dose of hindsight, does the context of its relevancy become clear. The Attitude Era, for better or worse, allowed us to throw away a little bit of the insufferable political correctness with which the United States has always been afflicted. As bizarre as it is to articulate, our culture, hearkening back to the days of Elvis and the Beatles, has always been at its best when our mothers are abjectly horrified by what their children are being exposed to. Though there was a strong sense of motivation compelled through healthy competition, The WWF/E understood this responsibility to subvert our expectations, to throw audiences out of their established comfort zone in order to deliver to the fans a product that grasped at the throat of our imagination and shook us into a more concrete understanding of reality and, conversely, an understanding of the separation between sports entertainment and reality. It is for these reasons that the relative lack of competition within the wrestling business troubles so many people who grew up as lifelong fans. While wrestling has found more than a modicum of acceptance in pop culture, it has at the same time lost a great sum of its relevancy. The wrestling that my generation grew up with was representative of a blasé sort of acceptance that the politically correct norms of society were deliberately meant to be subverted in order to reach a more meaningful conclusion, an established truth within 90s pop culture that paired nicely with the emergence of metal and the effusive bravado of the periods action films. There was an overwhelming lack of fear, that offense was a small price to pay for creating an environment where the fans could be surprised and delighted by the overtly dramatic and off the wall sensibilities put forth by the WWF/Es corporate captains. Wrestling today, sadly, does not reflect this train of thought. Instead of allowing itself to inhabit the empty space as a desperately (repeat: desperately) needed break from the politically correct nonsense overflowing in modern day American culture, it has embraced the hyper-reality falsely created by social media in an attempt to understand every facet of every wrestling fans predilections. This heavy reliance on marketing removes boldness and risks from the equation of what to put in the ring a majority of the time, instead providing a flimsy sense of security in the idea that you can understand and anticipate the audience. The irony of that approach is that human beings are fickle by their very nature, and none of us really know what were looking for until its been provided for us. Reliance on nostalgia provides no real innovation, accepting as granted that everything has been done before rather than trying to refine old stories and traditions. Having fallen headfirst into the same marketing fallacies that leave entertainment companies like EA dumbfounded at the vitriol their supporters regard them with, the WWE is at a critical impasse. While there are incredible bright spots in the company concerning overall in-ring talent (with talent like CM Punk, Dolph Ziggler, Kofi Kingston, and The Shield leading the way), there is a fundamental lack of understanding with much of the talent as to how fans perceive them. John Cena is promoted as the companys leading face, a blank slate of a man who perseveres over hardship time and time again, yet he is thought of with a growing resentment and contempt because he wont take any genuine risks with his character. When rumors surfaced that Cena might turn heel at WrestleMania, the internet blew up with positive feedback for the idea, that, despite the implicit risks given Cenas charity outreach, he could evolve into a character recalling the machinations of Attitude Era Bret Hart, a character whom was lionized by one group of the audience and damned by the rest. The WWE eschewed this idea, instead leading Ryback to his natural conclusion as a rival and adversary for Cena in will most likely be a match for the WWE Title at Extreme Rules. While this isnt necessarily a denial of content that the audience can get behind, it does represent a safer path for both characters, and one that is infinitely more boring than shocking our sensibilities as wrestling fans. Though fans may continue to pour through the turnstiles, the talent becomes blander in the way it is presented to the audience. This is partially down to a lack of legitimate competition forcing the brand to take bold risks with its direction, as TNA is seen as a sham of an organization and Ring of Honor does not have a network cable deal. Without a solid push from someone actively trying to do better than the big dog, the WWE has not had its perspective tinged with the evidence of fans leaving their product in favor of something else. Their situation as a company is far less dire than it once was, and that totally defensible complacency can have a detrimental effect on the overall product. The bigger issue at hand, however, is that in the new area of reality, superstars are expected to meet one particular niche of sensibilities all the time, making them into more realistic characters while, at the same time, diminishing the range of human emotion that made the controversial Attitude Era so appealing. We forget due to the passage of time, but every great in the wrestling business since the advent of cable has played both hero and villain as a reflection of the deeper realities of human consciousness. Hogan was the darling to millions right until he dropped the leg on Randy Savage at the 1996 Bash at the Beach. The Rock was a shill of the Corporation until his bravado became too much for Shane and Vince to handle without breaking their alliance. Stone Cold was the bane of the corporate edifice right until he shook Vince McMahons hand at WrestleMania 17. Triple H was equal parts beloved social irritant and despicable villain. And even more recently, fans fell in love with CM Punk because he was unafraid to call out the companys foibles and mismanagement while at the same time developing into a self-serving and whiny champion. Denying Cena and others the opportunity to explore the full scope of who they are within the WWEs reality means that the innovations in in-ring storytelling become less and less important in pursuit of creating a homogenized product that anyone can eat up as effortlessly as a bag of popcorn. When The Shield interrupted Ryback and Cenas confrontation on Raw this week, it was refreshing to see the understated value of Rybacks performance, how he silently le the carnage unfold before him while thousands of thoughts crept across his face. It instills a belief that the WWE understands its superstars have to be allowed to develop and grow as real people in front of the audience, being repaid with adulation for the complexities representative of who they are personally through either boos or cheers. Its the reason that Alberto Del Rios face turn has been embraced so wholeheartedly, that Big Show still draws despite being totally unreadable until he has carried out an action. Unfortunately, its also the reason fans in the Izod Center last week became so derisive during Sheamus and Randy Ortons confrontation. We want to see Ortons engrossing sadism. We want exposure to Sheamus particular love of violence. These aspects of their character dont prevent them from being adored or from selling merchandise. Dolph Ziggler proved over the course of his Money in the Bank campaign that what has become the new form of respect in wrestling is not how good or evil your character is, but the depth of a superstars commitment to their unique identity. John Cena stands on the opposite polarity because he has, for a long time, been a wrestler without a personality. While the days of oddball gimmicks like Isaac Yankem and Doink the Clown have long since faded away, the vestiges of face and heel remain ingrained despite a real change in perspective by wrestling fans. While WrestleMania suffered because of its reliance on old wrestling dogmas, Raw continues to improve each week because the characters are desperately trying to break free of old conventions to create a new era with a solidified identity. It is up to the WWE to decide which direction to take; do they wish to embolden the vestiges of reality by making all of its superstars uniquely ambiguous and charismatic, or does it want to hold to the old archetypes that brought it to prominence in the first place? The decision has to be made, and the input from its audience is the most crucial factor in that process.