Saturday Morning Heels
“To all my little Hulkamaniacs, say your prayers, take your vitamins and you will never go wrong.” Quote from Hulk Hogan, WWF wrestling campaign
When I was a young mom with two little kids and a husband who worked Saturdays, I had to get creative. Weekdays were easy with play dates to fill the hours. But Saturdays? My friends were busy with their husbands, and I was staring down a long day. So we watched TV.
Mornings started with Sesame Street, then Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood. And at 10:00 a.m., The WWF, the World Westling Federation, came on. WWF sounds like an unlikely choice for a mom and two small kids, but we were hooked by the drama. Every wrestler had a backstory, a grudge, and a feud. Before each match, they’d cut promos in these wild sinister voices, saying the craziest things. The costumes, the makeup, the entrances, it was a soap opera meets superhero comic and we couldn’t look away..
We’d watch the screen mesmerized, rooting for the wrestler we felt was the best. My favorite was Ted DiBiase, The Million Dollar Man, and his man servant Virgil. Ted was a heel, which meant he was a bad guy. After winning his match using his signature move “The Million Dollar Dream,” he’d laugh and stuff hundred dollar bills in his opponent’s mouth. OK, you might find this odd, but maybe because I was 30 and bored on Saturday mornings, I found it hilarious.
Our daughter’s favorites were Hulk Hogan and André the giant. I got the appeal, they were both crowd pleasers. If the Hulk and André weren’t on, the show just seemed boring. I loved how Hogan worked the crowd. He’d cup his hand to his ear, beg for cheers, then shake the ropes and point at the camera. What a ham! And André was a 7 foot, 500 pound giant in a tiny singlet that looked like a caveman costume. He was terrifying and adorable at the same time. The kids called him the “gentle giant.”
Our son’s favorite was Macho Man Randy Savage, another heel. Nick liked his swagger, the neon glasses, the raspy voice, and that signature move, the flying elbow drop from the top rope. After the Macho Man won he would take the mic and scream, “OOOHHHHHHHYYYYEEEEEEEHHHH!” When Nick played with his action figures, Macho Man was always the star. He would launch him off the couch for the elbow drop and yell the catchphrase in that same gravelly voice, which would echoed through the house.
Soon we started purchasing the merchandise. Nick wanted all the Wrestling Buddies, these were soft pillows with the wrestler’s face and body images. Before long, action figures littered his floor ready for battle in the ring. I recall when the WWF started running those big pay per view events. Nick was in 8th grade. He invited his friends over to watch. As these huge boys filed into our house and kicked off their size 13 plus shoes, each one grabbed an action figure to prep for the “fight.” I watched them shout and cheer, devouring pizza between matches. I was grateful because I understood the wrestlers. I knew their backstories and I could talk to them about heels, feuds and finishers.
That was over thirty years ago. Recently I watched a couple of documentaries on Netflix, the backstory of the owner and heel Vince McMahon, the sad story of Hulk Hogan, and the Rock’s rise. What struck me then, and what sticks with me now was this; “No one gets hurt”. Turns out, everyone did. But they got back up. They were larger than life people who were portraying characters they’d developed. Each one had a gimmick. For us, it was like going to the movies, only with a lot of action. The wrestlers filled the screen and I never thought to look past the lights. But now I understand. I see the men with broken backs, weak knees, and fractures. The art was never the slam. The art was the choosing, night after night, to stand back up. That’s the moral of the WWF. It wasn’t about who won. It was about who refused to stay down.