Well, there it was... Tuesday night watching Steve Spector wrestle... Luke Kinsey wrestle... "Bad Eye" McBaine wrestle... Even that old-as-dirt relic Brody Thunder wrestle. And where was I? In the back, with 'the boys'? In the locker room, preparing for my own match? Waiting for my chance at glory yet again, under the bright lights and fans' roar? Nope, I was sitting in front of the TV, watching some tape of an IWF/WOW show and was putting another tape in of a recent NEO-Pro show a buddy sent me.
It was the first time that I've actually watched a wrestling program at home, on television, without any sort of vested interest in it. When I was active for all those years, I never watched the EMWC - I mean, I was there to see it anyway. And before I got into the industry, well, I didn't quite care much for anything wrestling related. Didn't really entertain me [and it took me a good year just to gain an appreciation for it while getting my 'hard knocks' in the NeCW]. And when I had to retire? It was just too painful to watch that ring knowing that I'd never truely return to it ever again.
But something drew me to putting that tape in and pressing play. Don't know why and after the first hour, I still didn't know why I was even bothering - While the wrestling was good, I just couldn't get into it. The show was well put together, the wrestlers did a good job on the mic and in the ring, but... Well, still felt that way as before - I was missing out. Bitterness? Maybe. Jealousy? Possibly. I mean, it's pretty notorious how I hogged airtime in the E... But, ultimately, it was just that I couldn't be a "fan". I knew what some of these guy wrestling were really like in person, so I just couldn't buy their act on the TV. I was tainted... an "insider". Instead of enjoying the show, I just scoffed, raspberried, and p-shawed.
But then I noticed some guys I've never worked with, never knew personally, and frankly never heard of... As I watched, I could see their character form and play out on screen and just like that, I was entrapped. Hooked. Now I wasn't some rube, screaming at the TV at how evil someone was, but I was glad when the heel was about to get his and a bit dashed when that comeuppance didn't happen. Sometimes relished the heel escaping the face as well as when the face was getting cheated and beaten down by unfair numbers, though, since I've spent the bulk of my career doing that exact same thing.
So, in a word, I finally know what it's like to be on the other side of the fence - just being happy to enjoy being a fan of the sport and not wondering what might have been anymore. And now, instead of politicking when I hate something, I can just turn the channel! Whoo!
By the single great wrestler, ever, to carry the name "Mark",
Mark Langseth
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