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http://www.salon.com/ent/feature/2002/03/19/wrestlemania/index.html

Is the WWF on the ropes?

Sunday's Wrestlemania broadcast, with its much hyped match between
Hulk Hogan and the Rock, might not have been enough to save Vince
McMahon's crumbling empire.

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By Eric Boehlert

March 19, 2002  |  Nobody does hype like the World Wrestling
Federation. The professional wrestling outfit has made braggadocio and
gross exaggeration an art form; its overly excited ringside announcers
sell the WWF's soap-style story lines as if each new plot twist were
shocking, new and world historic in scale.

Sunday night's pay-per-view Wrestlemania "X8" (that's 18 in WWF-speak)
was no exception. Pro wrestling's annual Super Bowl event, fans were
told over and over again, was "the showcase for immortals" and "the
grandest stage of all." And the much talked-about featured bout
between the Rock and Hollywood Hulk Hogan ("wrestling's future vs. its
past") was simply "the biggest match ever," "a match
for the ages" and
"icon vs. icon."

But the fans assembled in dens and living rooms across North America
who shelled out $40 for the pay-per-view broadcast, not to mention the
68,000-plus who packed Toronto's Skydome (setting a new building
attendance record in the process) may have detected some authentic
urgency among the WWF wrestlers and announcers.

That's because, coming off last year's disastrous foray into
professional football with the short-lived XFL (which sucked not only
money but also man-hours out of the wrestling company), Vince
McMahon's venerable sports-entertainment dynasty has been on the
ropes. Not only that, the attempt to integrate wrestlers from World
Championship Wrestling (WCW), the WWF's former rival, which McMahon
purchased from Ted Turner last year, has been largely unsuccessful.
The WWF desperately needs a hit.

Television ratings are off (last week's "Smackdown" on UPN was the
show's lowest-rated non-holiday broadcast), live attendance is down,
pay-per-view revenues have decreased, and WWF merchandise is still
sitting on store shelves.

Perhaps it was inevitable that the WWF would come down from its
pop-culture zenith of 1999. That's when gladiators like Stone Cold
Steve Austin, Mankind and the Undertaker were featured in virtually
every consumer magazine in America, while McMahon was toasted as a
modern day P.T. Barnum, able to magically, and consistently, attack
the mercurial younger-male demographic like nobody else in
entertainment.

Today, it has all gone sour. Last year, when Austin, the WWF's
blue-collar hero, returned to the ring following a long
rehabilitation, ratings barely budged. Nor did the arrival of the
legendary Hogan make a difference. (He bolted to WCW in the early
'90s.) When McMahon bought WCW he apparently didn't get its viewers;
at the peak of wrestling's popularity in late 1998 and early '99, WCW
and the WWF together attracted 12 million viewers each Monday night
for their competing telecasts. Today, the WWF's Monday-night show
draws about half that number.

Ratings for MTV's reality-based wrestling show, "Tough Enough," are
down 30 percent in its second season, while its Sunday night "Heat"
broadcast is well below what the WWF used to post on Sunday nights at
the USA Network before bolting to Viacom-owned MTV.

Against that uncertain backdrop, the WWF will unveil a risky scheme
later this month to help boost its TV ratings and extend the shelf
life of its wrestlers: splitting its roster into two separate camps.
One group, likely led by the Rock, will appear only on Monday nights
on TNN's "Raw," while the other, with Austin at the helm, will make
its living exclusively on UPN's "Smackdown," according to Dave
Meltzer, publisher of the Wrestling Observer.

This shift is a huge roll of the dice, which is one reason the WWF has
postponed it several times over the past few months. If wrestling fans
revolt (they're accustomed to seeing the Rock, Austin, and all the
other wrestlers both nights of the week), the ripple effect could be
devastating.

Then again, the move could be a stroke of genius, a way for the WWF to
create two distinct brands and hook in fans to a pair of wrestling
roundups. "The next six to eight weeks are extremely pivotal," says
Meltzer.

It will be the consistency of the bouts, plotlines and rivalries that
will determine the future of the WWF, notes Meltzer. A great
"Wrestlemania" can't guarantee strong TV ratings for the weeks that
follow; last year's pay-per-view event was considered a classic, yet
wrestling ratings dropped for nine consecutive weeks afterward.

Still, Wrestlemania "X8," with its Hogan vs. Rock matchup, offered the
WWF an enormous opportunity to win back casual fans and those whose
interest has flagged recently. Unfortunately, most of Sunday night's
broadcast came off as a four-hour version of a typical Monday night
"Raw." The heavy metal band Drowning Pool performed live for the
Skydome crowd, but little else seemed out of the ordinary, memorable
or in any way worth $40.

The early Kurt Angle vs. Kane match was a bore, as Angle, the U.S.
Olympian turned WWF star, ran circles around Kane, a laborious man of
a reported 326 pounds. Perhaps the best story line was offered by the
bout between the Undertaker and Rick Flair. Yes, this is the same
bleached-blond Nature Boy Rick Flair who first became a wrestling star
in the '70s. He's now 53 years old and remains a master showman, but
he's no longer much of a wrestler. Since Flair doesn't have the speed
and strength to work inside the ring, most of his battle with the
Undertaker took place outside, by the scorer's table. Lots of walking
around and muttering. The crowd seemed to lose interest after five
minutes; Undertaker eventually dragged Flair back in the ring and
dropped him on his head with a patented Tombstone move.

Stone Cold Steve Austin faced off against WCW has-been Scott Hall.
According to Meltzer, Austin was cool to the idea of wrestling Hogan,
so he was moved down the card for this forgettable bout. (Die-hards
take note: For his victory ritual, Austin smashed cans of Molson,
rather than Budweiser, before the Toronto crowd.)

Wrestling historians had to appreciate the Rock vs. Hogan: Two of the
biggest names, and most charismatic performers, in wrestling history
in their first-ever match. (Actually, the two had a preliminary tangle
last Monday night on "Raw," which robbed the pay-per-view broadcast of
some of its thrill; Meltzer thinks that WWF executives panicked over
"Raw" ratings and inserted the bout.) Yes, Hogan is 48 years old and
hasn't learned a new ring maneuver in 10 years. But so much of the WWF
is about manufacturing excitement, giving eager and willing fans a
reason to scream and jump to their feet.

That explained the sheer bedlam that erupted when Hogan came out
strong early, taunting the Rock and flexing for the crowd. For many of
the fans it was pure nostalgia, taking them back to the late 1980s and
early '90s, when Hulkamania was running wild in the streets of North
America and indeed the globe. In 1987, for example, more than 93,000
fans packed into Michigan's Pontiac Silverdome to witness Hogan lift
the 500-pound Andre the Giant off his feet for a body slam.
 
But Hogan hadn't appeared in a Wrestlemania in nine years and his lack
of endurance showed. Just as the match was starting to generate some
juice at the 15-minute mark, it was cut short, with the Rock dropping
the People's Elbow on Hogan. (Actually, it appeared that the Rock's
dramatic finisher missed Hogan by at least half a foot, which is
probably why no replay was offered.) Ten more minutes of action might
have elevated the match to something that core fans would long
remember.

A women's championship bout followed, and it was a boring mess indeed.
And then in the championship bout, trash-talking Chris Jericho lost
his title to Triple H, who seems to have more muscle mass in his neck
and shoulders than most families possess collectively. A decent match.
But again, nothing to make the WWF faithful stay up past midnight
posting online opinions.

And when wrestling fans stop finding reasons to obsess over matches,
buy live-event tickets, and subscribe to a plethora of parasitic
magazines, the whole phenomenon -- which looked just three years ago
like an impregnable pop-culture empire -- can collapse. Just ask Ted
Turner and WCW.


--- Internet Rex 2.29