Everything is Wrestling (to me)

As befits my role as the ultimate outsider (probably my wrasslin’ nickname if I ever was lucky enough to get into this crazy business), I was simultaneously familiar and uncomfortable as soon as I stepped off of the UP Express and into the land of the mark. I understand the fandom, but I also don’t have the self confidence to express it quite so publicly and enthusiastically.

Whatever faint urges that lived inside of me to someday purchase a replica title were summarily squashed, however when I saw not only the quality of the lower priced belts, but just exactly the line I would be crossing if I did indeed make such a purchase. And I have the pictures to remind me should I ever veer back into that dark, dark place.

I’ve probably convinced everyone who doesn’t know me by this point that I actually hate professional wrestling or at the very least that I’m a self hating mark. I guarantee that’s not the case and I’ll try to keep things as upbeat as possible going forward. I must point out that my uncomfortableness came entirely from within me, and had nothing to do with the vast majority of the lovely people in attendance on August 10, 2019. That said, I must call out the unacceptable sexism that somehow persists, even in this eden of how big league professional wrestling can be presented (I of course am speaking of NXT and not the WWE as a whole). No need to go into specifics; it’s more of the same we’ve all experienced at events big and small.

One of the most unintentionally funny moments was the “Bay Bay” rehearsals. Right up until the show started; from when the arena was practically empty right up until the first dark match, somebody would randomly yell out “Adam Cole” and to varying degrees of success/synchronicity the inevitable “Bay Bay!” would follow. Equally interspersed was the typical nerdy smark talk that would veer into the annoying smark talk. The one question that kept ringing in my head was “do I sound like that to everyone else too?” Terrifying.

One thing that finally brought me feelings of both homesickness and familiarity was the arrival of the Quebecers. Sadly, not the tag team, but my people. Travelling from Montréal to sit a)right next to me and b) in the third row, wearing their Habs jerseys with impunity. 

Inevitably, the Québécois who sat next to me was the most annoying of the bunch, he provided and endless stream of hilarious commentary including multiple chants of  “la lute, la lute.” I though it best to conceal my bilingualism from the group for maximum entertainment and I was not disappointed.

This being my first live wrestling experience with a crowd of anything over 300 people, I will say that there is nothing like being at a major event live and that comes with both good and bad things. I’m actually looking forward to watching Takeover Toronto on the small screen to fully compare and contrast.

Kyle O’Reilly. My favorite wrestling KO and he may have actually moved up into the top spot in—male—wrestlers at the very least. Candice is still amazing and Io is exactly as advertised before I even laid eyes on what she can do.

Candice/Io was easily my favourite match of the night, followed closely by the Era/Proffits match (yes, there was a typo on the rolling screen above the 300 section. Sadly, I didn’t not think to snap a picture, but I’m sure it’s available on the replay.

The three way was great, although the pandering of the Dream was annoiying and I don’t think it was supposed to come off that way. I’m stealing this, but Roddy is the ultimate sleeper. Just so good. And the Bruiserweight? Just fantastic.

Shayna/Yim was probably better viewed on the TV or in a smaller room. I appreciated it, but it seemed to get lost in a larger arena.

Cole, on the other hand—not to mention Johnny—are the epitome of big arena players. They know how to play to the back of the room, play with our emotions, and just straight up play. 50+ minutes that seemed like 20 max in the best way. Just watch how they stayed 100% in character during the slightly painful, but very entertaining struggle to get that cage of toys in place (I still have no idea if they masked that on the Network version or not.

During the walk of shame back to the UP Express, surrounded by fellow satisfied fanatics, inevitably a non fan had to yell (at each person he passed because wrestling fans are idiots: “Who won the wrestling?”

Typical; but not even close to ruining the night!