Eris

LATELY A CRY HAS EMERGED IN several parts of the nation as to the possible need to regulate professional wrestling. Consider these recent cases: 

A young wrestler in New Hampshire, working in only his second pro match, is killed when he misses a fall from his opponent's military press. The wrestler had only two weeks of training, but promoters assured everyone that he “had plenty of experience in backyard wrestling.”

Brian Pillman dies in a Minnesota motel room of heart failure, a condition that would have been easily discovered in a physical.

Gary Albright dies during a match in Pennsylvania. Upon examination, he is found to have a variety of ailments, both cardiac and diabetic, that contributed to his death. 

Owen Hart is killed when a needless stunt goes wrong, and he drops more than 60 feet to his death. 

These deaths could have been prevented if there were state athletic commissions empowered to regulate wrestling and license wrestlers. 

Take the first case: There is no way that young wrestlers should have been licensed, much less allowed to wrestle, considering his training. Backyard wrestling is no substitute for real training. And his “pro training” was a mere two weeks long. What can a young wrestler learn in that short a span? If there had been a licensing process in effect, safeguards might have been taken to ensure that an unqualified wrestler would not have been able to perform. 

Pillman and Albright might have died before their time at any rate, but not in the manner they did if a doctor appointed by a state athletic commission had given them a thorough physical.

An athletic commission might not have been able to stop Vince McMahon from ordering the silly stunt that cost Hart his life, but the fact that he would have had someone in authority to answer to may have made him think twice. 

Oregon stands alone

The time has come to reinstitute regulation. The only state currently regulating wrestling is Oregon, which explains why neither WCW nor the WWF has promoted any wrestling cards there for a long time. One of the things an athletic commission does is test for illegal drugs. And how many of Vince’s or Ted’s warriors do you think could pass a steroids test?

Steroids have hurt wrestling far more than they have helped it. Wrestling was once a contest of skill between two men who could work a match of an hour’s duration without boring the crowd. Today it is a beauty contest between two drugged-up behemoths who, by necessity, can’t let their match exceed 10 minutes. Their over-developed muscles actually shorten their careers by adding weight and making their bodies so hard they are less able to absorb the bumps without injury. This results in shorter careers and matches determined more by outside gimmicks, such as tables and chairs, rather than by psychology and skill. In this contest, the loser is the fan. 

Another reason the WWF and WCW don’t want state regulation is the entertainment tax attached to athletic contests. The proceeds of the tax go to pay the freight of the athletic contests. McMahon and Ted Turner claim this tactic is a burden on fans who want to see-their product, which is not a sport per se, but rather a strange hybrid called “sports entertainment.” Their argument is that if it’s not a sport, then it can’t be taxed like a sport and, more importantly, regulated like a sport. 

There is one flaw in that argument: Wrestling may be worked, but it continues to present itself as a sport. Otherwise, why are there title belts? Don’t they imply competition? For all their bluster, both the WWF and WCW present wrestling as if something real is going on. It is important for wrestling to maintain this illusion, for if the fans didn’t believe something on some level of reality was happening, why would they spend money to see it?

Regulation is not censorship

Wrestling needs regulation. Keep in mind, however, that regulation is not censorship. In fact, regulation could help keep the wolves of censorship from wrestling’s door. Wrestling needs to clean up its act before the Miss Grundys of society are given the chance to impose their crude form of politically correct mentality. Regulation also protects the wrestlers. Having a doctor conduct a thorough physical could prevent a tragedy. Such a case occurred years ago when a New Jersey Athletic Commission doctor prevented Road Warrior Hawk from performing due to a rapid heartbeat.

A state athletic commission would also act as a buffer between what the fans want to see and the state legislature members pulled the old “let’s save the people from themselves” trick by wishing to limit "extreme" wrestling. The legislators were not bothering any of the major federations but focusing on independent cards. That seems rather inconsistent. If fans actually want to pay to see two wrestlers simulate bashing each other into oblivion with folding chairs, that is their business. But an athletic commission is necessary to ensure the safety of the wrestlers and to make sure they are properly trained and licensed. You can’t go see your heroes if they’re dead. 

The same rules apply to extreme or ultimate fighting. From the noise made by a few state representatives, one would think people were being thrown to actual lions. Despite its violent image, carefully cultivated by its promoters, ultimate fighting is as worked as pro wrestling. Banning something has never made it go away, it only drives it to another locale. The show will go on, so why not regulate?

ON JULY 31, 1999, WRESTLING fans gained a hardcore alternative. At first, Xtreme Professional Wrestling debuted to give fans on the West Coast an opportunity to witness live hardcore wrestling. But over the past 16 months, XPW has evolved from an independent federation many criticized for looking too much like ECW into a nationally televised promotion with its own brand of sports-entertainment. 

With a weekly national television show on the America One Network (check www.americaone.com for listings), home videos, and live events at the Los Angeles Sports Arena with crowds numbering 2,000. XPW can no longer be ignored as a passing phase in professional wrestling. 

[Rob Black [right], owner of XPW, and his wife, Lizzy Borden.]

Xtreme roots

The roots of XPW are deeper than the 16 months it has been in existence. Rob Black, owner and CEO of the company, grew up a fan of wrestling. In 1998, Black decided he wanted to form his own promotion. He understood that to stand out would require an edge and production value that would separate his company from others.

Black crossed paths with Southern California Championship Wrestling, a small independent in the Los Angeles area. Three people ran SCCW: Darren McMillian (wrestler Dynamite D), Patrick Hernandez (now XPW head official), and Kevin Kleinrock (now XPW vice president of operations). Black met with SCCW in the summer of 1998 to discuss the possibility of forming a new promotion. Upon hearing that the company would have a substantial budget and a higher production value, they decided to join Black.

Xtreme philosophy

The XPW plan was simple: To become the top wrestling promotion on the West Coast and a viable alternative to ECW. Fans on the West Coast could watch ECW syndicated show on America One affiliates, and ECW on TNN after it debuted in August 1999, but no promotion on the West Coast provided live hardcore wrestling.

Black said his obsession with hardcore wrestling–which includes use of thumbtacks and barbed wire in matches–has its roots in the NWA.

“All ECW did was take the NWA, the Southern Style and modernize it,” says Black. 

With West Coast fans demanding live, hardcore wrestling, Black was ready to fill the niche and hired past ECW stars. The first was Big Dick Dudley. With Buh Buh Ray Dudley and D-Von Dudley leaving ECW for the WWF in the fall of 1999, the giant of the group decided he was tired of walking around ringside and wanted to actually wrestle. He joined XPW and was followed by John Kronus, Missy Hyatt, the Pit Bulls, Public Enemy, Axl Rotten, Shane Douglas, Chris Candido, Tammy Sytch, and current XPW world heavyweight champion Sabu.

While many criticized XPW for being an ECW knockoff, fans loved the action. Not only did they get a chance to see these “name” wrestlers for the first time on the West Coast, but mixed in was the next generation of stars gaining national attention for the first time. Local wrestlers such as Kid Kaos, Supreme, “White Trash” Johnny Webb, and Dynamite D found a home in XPW. Other local talents such as Skullcrusher, “Iron” Mike Earhardt, and Nick Beat found a niche for themselves with the help of the XPW creative team and enjoyed rebirths as Homeless Jimmy, the Messiah, and “the Real Deal” Damien Steele, respectively. 

Xtreme goals

Although XPW fans have enjoyed watching the former ECW stars perform, the local wrestlers have gained a following as well. XPW is bombarded with messages of “Stop putting the strap on outside talent. It is time for the Messiah to be champ,” or “Homeless Jimmy’s first win should be the XPW title.” But the philosophy of using known wrestlers to establish a fan base has been successful. Being a viable alternative to ECW was only part of the plan. 

“Our main goal was to become a ‘complete’ wrestling company,” Kleinrock says. “We wanted to take the violence and reality of ECW, mix them with the drama and production of the WWF, add an international flavor and make the most well-rounded promotion in the world.”