10 Obscure Wrestling Secrets That Took Years To Discover

Kayfabe, wrestling's inner sanctum, preserved the secrets of professional wrestling for years and years. Throughout the 20th century, before a mainstream dormant in popularity experimented beyond the old, protective narrative, nobody ever really took pro wrestling at face value. Perhaps in the 1910s, but that’s about it. They knew it was in some way predetermined; they just didn’t care.

People were in awe of and prepared to accept the illusion, which promoters were mostly prepared to present as something on the level, early, proto-Vince McMahon Jack Pfefer excepted. Wrestling was real if we believed in it, and it's ironic that such an ugly industry was received with such an earnest innocence. It was a bit like Christmas for grown-ups, if Santa Claus was a pill-addicted sociopath.

The rise of the newsletter, and subsequently the internet, allowed the mask to slip—which the performers themselves soon accepted, as the shoot interview circuit in part compensated for the limited avenues in which to make money, post-WWF/E expansion.

“We already knew these you dipsh*t.”

To be clear: we aren’t revealing secrets here. Beyond the mystery of how Kenny Omega’s V-Trigger hasn’t yet drilled through some poor f*cker’s face, there are virtually none left to reveal in this post-smart age.

We instead aim to determine how these secrets remained secrets, what false narratives became prevalent prior to the revelations, and the effect these revelations had on the industry…

Because professional wrestling is “fake”, those who aren’t fans of WWE—as opposed to the people who claim to hate it, but still watch it —remain in a state of pure denial when confronted with the concept of blading. To these people—and we’re the f*cking idiots, apparently—wrestlers pour sachets of blood over their foreheads, even ketchup, to achieve the desired effect.

In their defence, impractical though this is, it’s equally as batsh*t as the way in which that desired effect is achieved; after years of swarming to magazine stands, beckoned by the sight of wrestlers caked in the red stuff, we learned that pro wrestlers voluntarily slice open their own foreheads, avoiding arteries with a superficial cut, to sell the viciousness of their heel opponents (or, unless you are Triple H at WrestleMania 21, to sell how f*cking hard as nails you are).

Jake Roberts, on Steve Austin’s podcast, elaborated on the actual technique—one Abdullah The Butcher simply ignored, among significantly worse things. To avoid scarring, and to conceal the act from fans, the wrestler must flick their wrist with a quick, twisting motion to hide in plain sight the dark art.

This revelation blew minds. Wrestlers cut themselves, for real, for our delectation.