Document 1 of 1 THIS IS NOT REAL Author: Kleinfield, N R Publication info: New York Times , Late Edition (East Coast) [New York, N.Y] 26 Nov 1989: A.1. ProQuest document link Abstract: Though wrestling aficionados feel Turner offers better athletes, TitanSports doesn't yet consider it much competition. ''We're sports entertainment,'' said Steve Planamenta, Titan's media coordinator. ''They're professional wrestling.'' Nevertheless, the N.W.A stages more than 370 matches a year, plus five pay-per-view events on cable television. It also cranks out three weekly shows, shown on some 160 stations across the country, and, for Turner's TBS Superstation, it produces a quarterly Clash of the Champions, ''where titles change, grudges are born and heroes are made.'' It has a 900 number fans can call for match results and it sells a selection of souvenir T-shirts, belts and videocassettes. Flyin' [Brian Pillman] played football for Cincinnati and Calgary, until his ankle was broken in three places two years ago, finishing his career. He took up wrestling. ''I'm fortunate to be part of it,'' he said. ''Sure, there's a lot of hype. But there's hype in any sport today.'' All told, the N.W.A. has 40 wrestlers like Flyin' Brian under contract. Besides the permanent troupe, there are dozens of roofers and truck drivers who are hired on a meet-by-meet basis. The contract wrestlers earn anywhere from $52,000 a year to the roughly $800,000 paid Ric Flair, the current world champion in the series. To remain in good standing, the contract wrestlers are expected to perform 200 to 300 nights a year. This was an ''I Quit'' match which would end only when one man surrendered. For a while, it seemed as if no one would ever quit. There were tosses out of the ring. Fighting along the sidelines. Mr. [Terry Funk] yanked Nature Boy's long blond hair, cornered him against the ropes and slapped him repeatedly. ''Want to quit Flair,'' he shrieked. ''Want to quit?'' He didn't. Alas, the television broadcast was scheduled to end soon. Happily, in the nick of time, Nature Boy wound Terry Funk into a figure-four leg lock, and, with a face contorted in possible pain, the victim quit. Full text: LEAD: Smoke issued from vents, as a kaleidoscope of lights flashed wildly. Two hulking figures brimming with human meanness, with painted faces and Mohawk haircuts and encased in black vests decorated with metal studs, commenced an ominous walk down a black ramp toward the ring. Thumping rock music bounced off the ceiling, and as the pair neared the ring, fireworks exploded over their heads. Smoke issued from vents, as a kaleidoscope of lights flashed wildly. Two hulking figures brimming with human meanness, with painted faces and Mohawk haircuts and encased in black vests decorated with metal studs, commenced an ominous walk down a black ramp toward the ring. Thumping rock music bounced off the ceiling, and as the pair neared the ring, fireworks exploded over their heads. The Road Warriors, two villainous former bar bouncers from Chicago who wrestle any way it takes to win, were on. The buoyant fans, some 4,000 strong, rocked the Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute field house on this grayish, smoky evening, as another 2.5 million viewers around the country were glued to the cable television broadcast. ''Road Warriors, Road Warriors, Road Warriors,'' chanted one fan. A mini-skirted young woman waved a sign: ''Road Warriors are Awesome.'' Was there any hope at all for their opponents, the Fabulous Freebirds? * Weird outfits. Dramatic entrances. Rock music. So goes the new world of professional wrestling. Wrestling, a sport of illusions that has been part of the American landscape for more than a century, has been on a dramatic upswing in the last few years as promoters have transformed its bizarre subculture of Hulk Hogans, Super Destroyers and Dr. Deaths into parentally acceptable family fun, along the lines of the circus and Disney movies, and packaged it on cable television. Promoters, in fact, talk about making wrestling the mother church for fans between the ages of 2 and 11. The pioneer in broadening wrestling's appeal has been TitanSports, the Stamford, Conn-based, owner of the World Wrestling Federation, the biggest promoter of wrestling and employer of the celebrated Hulk Hogan. Now World Championship Wrestling, an Atlanta-based division of Ted Turner's Turner Broadcasting Inc., which sponsored the Troy Clash of Champions meet, is trying to mount a serious challenge. It admits that performances are quite polished enough yet. ''We're about half-way where we want to be,'' said Jim Herd, a former executive of a Pizza Hut in St. Louis, who is the group's executive vice president. ''But we're gaining.'' Wrestling, which has had various periods of broad popularity, embarked on a new era in the early 1980's with the widespread airing of matches on cable television. This caused live attendance to diminish and many regional and local promoters to drop out, but television viewership and revenues began to grow enormously. Dave Metzer, who publishes The Wrestling Observer, a newsletter, estimates that revenues have grown from about $70 million in 1983 to $200 million this year, the bulk of it divvied up between TitanSports and World Championship Wrestling. Titan stresses family entertainment - Hulk Hogan, for instance, is always good about urging children to say their prayers and take their vitains - which doesn't play with many of the blue-collar, whisky-loving wrestling fans of old. The Turner group entered wrestling only last November by buying the financially troubled National Wrestling Alliance, which appealed to the older fans but had been hurt by TitanSports' expansion. Turner's strategy is to try to marry the two wrestling universes by engineering a program packed with enough spectacular wrestling to please die-hards, but studded with adequate show-business wonders to wow youngsters. ''What we need to do is address the young minds who need a change a minute,'' said Mr. Herd. ''One thing we're going to do is add some wrestlers who are costumed radically differently - in high-tech outer space sort of machinery, for instance - to appeal to kids.'' Though wrestling aficionados feel Turner offers better athletes, TitanSports doesn't yet consider it much competition. ''We're sports entertainment,'' said Steve Planamenta, Titan's media coordinator. ''They're professional wrestling.'' Nevertheless, the N.W.A stages more than 370 matches a year, plus five pay-per-view events on cable television. It also cranks out three weekly shows, shown on some 160 stations across the country, and, for Turner's TBS Superstation, it produces a quarterly Clash of the Champions, ''where titles change, grudges are born and heroes are made.'' It has a 900 number fans can call for match results and it sells a selection of souvenir T-shirts, belts and videocassettes. The N.W.A. expects revenues next year to reach $50 million, up from about $33 million this year (the World Wrestling Federation is expected to gross more than $150 million this year). On television, a big part of its audience is 12- to 17-year-olds, which is why advertisers like Kenner Toys, Tonka, M & M Mars, the National Dairy Board and Parker Brothers fork over about $25,000 for 30-second spots. * Yikes! One of the Road Warriors heaved a Fabulous Freebird out of the ring, rattling his composure. Then the Road Warrior scooted after him, scooped him up and tossed him back in. Ugh! The other Road Warrior slapped the second Freebird across the cheeks, shoved him against the ropes, then kicked him in the face. Whomp! Cheers. Boos. Hisses. * Few fans seem greatly perturbed that wrestling has officially owned up to its phoniness. In the event anyone thought it was nothing but the real thing, the W.W.F. petitioned the New Jersey Legislature earlier this year to have the sport deregulated, conceding that it was nothing more than pure theater. If wrestling were bona fide, after all, they'd be hauling wrestlers out on stretchers every night. The Turner people have been steadily reworking the script of the N.W.A. matches. Before Turner bought the alliance, contests were rife with violence. Bloody faces and ugly welts were commonplace. And why not? A popular saying among promoters was that ''blood turns to green.'' (The blood generally was achieved by wrestlers slashing their opponents' foreheads with razor blades.) The trouble with gore is that, while it attracts a certain number of ghoulish fans, it repels families. ''One of the things Ted Turner said when we got into this, is no more violence and no blood,'' said Jim Herd. All the wrestlers were lectured about the new show, and about 10 particularly evil-minded wrestlers were let go. One rule that is being better enforced is a prohibition against the common but rather unsportsmanlike tactic of battering opponents with metal chairs or tables. Any use of a foreign object brings a $500 fine. * Yes. Yes. Yes. Dr. Steve Williams, a man of dramatic muscularity from Oklahoma, was getting the upper hand on Super Destroyer, a fearsome sight from ''parts unknown.'' Once Dr. Williams was declared the winner, a man in a Santa Claus suit bounded into the ring and gave him a toy. Dr. Steve looked very happy. * To exploit wrestling's true potential, Jim Herd tries to build a repeat audience for the matches, so fans will return year after year when wrestling comes to their town, so they will dial 900 numbers to learn the results of out-of-town matches and so they will tune in to the free cable matches and shell out money for pay-per-view spectaculars. Such fidelity is nurtured by constructing melodramatic storylines and endless grudge matches. Generally speaking, wrestlers are categorized as either symbols of Good or Bad, and months-long grudge bouts are arranged between these opposites. A grudge might starts because Mr. Bad shames Mr. Good by clobbering him with a sucker punch or painting him yellow. Or Mr. Good might have to uphold family honor when some ruffian gets cozy with his wife. A grudge match might even be fought for the right to use a nickname. The N.W.A. characters could fill myriad soap operas. Lex Luger, its U.S. heavyweight champion, is promoted as ''the most pompous, arrogant individual'' the N.W.A. has ever seen. He claims the abilities of his competitors ''make me want to puke,'' and says he will have to put an ad in USA Today to find worthy opponents. There is Norman ''the Lunatic,'' who was supposedly released only last summer from a state mental hospital. He is said to have no concept of reality, let alone of wrestling. Rumors are circulating that his manager, Teddy Long, is pocketing all his earnings. The Lunatic was recently spotted carrying just four pennies. Turner has been working on more characters engaging to children, though not always with success. Earlier this year, a new team appeared called the Ding Dongs; they wore bells and liked to wave to youngsters. At arena after arena, they were roundly booed by older fans until they were finally dropped. Fringe characters are nice to have around, too - like Woman, a slinky brunette intent on becoming the most powerful woman in the history of the sport. She is known to place wrestlers under her spell and then dump them. She has admitted to using the ''naive Steiner Brothers'' by draining Rick Steiner's bank account: ''I used them and tossed them away like yesterday's garbage.'' She recently hooked up with Doom, a pair of beefy wrestlers who could probably demolish a pair of earthmoving machines. Whenever they wrestle, Woman accompanies them to the ring. Occasionally, she likes to step in following a match and, just for fun, wallop one of Doom's opponents. * Oh, no! One of the Steiner Brothers put a ''hospitalizer'' on a member of the Skyscrapers, drawing monstrous feigned groans of pain: ''Aghhhhhhh!'' * Brian Pillman consented to an interview outside the locker room. He is known as Flyin' Brian for a move in which he stands atop the ropes and then leaps toward his opponent and kicks him squarely in the face. ''I took a lot of gymnastics to develop the flying move,'' he explained. ''I wanted to be original. It's good with the fans to have a trademark move.'' Flyin' Brian played football for Cincinnati and Calgary, until his ankle was broken in three places two years ago, finishing his career. He took up wrestling. ''I'm fortunate to be part of it,'' he said. ''Sure, there's a lot of hype. But there's hype in any sport today.'' All told, the N.W.A. has 40 wrestlers like Flyin' Brian under contract. Besides the permanent troupe, there are dozens of roofers and truck drivers who are hired on a meet-by-meet basis. The contract wrestlers earn anywhere from $52,000 a year to the roughly $800,000 paid Ric Flair, the current world champion in the series. To remain in good standing, the contract wrestlers are expected to perform 200 to 300 nights a year. ''The money is better than in anything else I could do,'' said Kevin Sullivan, another N.W.A. wrestler. ''I'll tell you what I like the most about it. I get to live in a beach house in Daytona Beach, Florida, that's completely paid for. Now, that's nice.'' * ''It's air time!'' the fans screamed. And it was. Flyin' Brian climbed up on the ropes and shot through the air, catching Lex Luger in the face. He also clipped the referee, who crumpled to the mat, presumably unconscious, maybe dead. Who knew! Who cared! The wrestling continued. * It's not enough to hire some brutes and throw them in the ring. One of the more unusual parts of World Championship Wrestling is a small informal research and development group. The group is working on electronic contraptions to heighten interest among children. When completed, the gadgets will be shown to focus groups of young fans to get a reading on them. In development, for instance, is a ''rage-meter'' that will somehow measure the amount of rage a wrestler is feeling at any given time. Fans will be able to learn, say, whether a wrestler who has just had his teeth kicked out feels blood-curdling rage or perhaps just mild displeasure. Another device being studied is a ''slam-meter.'' It will reveal the force of a slam to the mat. Was it a back-breaker of a slam? Was it a career-ender? * Time for the main bout. In the N.W.A.'s most famous grudge match, the challenger Terry Funk was pitted against the title holder, Nature Boy Ric Flair. Mr. Funk, a former champion himself, is renown for his exploits in Texas Death Matches, bouts that go on until one of the wrestlers can no longer continue, often because he is unconscious somewhere in the vicinity of the ring. Mr. Flair is known for his figure-four leg lock, in which, while both wrestlers are flat on their backs, he wraps his legs around his opponent in what resembles a figure four and applies pressure that supposedly delivers excruciating pain. This was an ''I Quit'' match which would end only when one man surrendered. For a while, it seemed as if no one would ever quit. There were tosses out of the ring. Fighting along the sidelines. Mr. Funk yanked Nature Boy's long blond hair, cornered him against the ropes and slapped him repeatedly. ''Want to quit Flair,'' he shrieked. ''Want to quit?'' He didn't. Alas, the television broadcast was scheduled to end soon. Happily, in the nick of time, Nature Boy wound Terry Funk into a figure-four leg lock, and, with a face contorted in possible pain, the victim quit. Nature Boy bowed and waved. Terry Funk wobbled to the dressing room. ''I can walk,'' he groaned. ''I don't need help.'' And the crowd kept roaring. Subject: WRESTLING; TELEVISION; CABLE TELEVISION People: KLEINFIELD, N R Company / organization: Name: World Championship Wrestling; NAICS: 711211; SIC: 7941 Publication title: New York Times, Late Edition (East Coast) Pages: A.1 Publication year: 1989 Publication date: Nov 26, 1989 Year: 1989 Dateline: TROY, N.Y. Section: A Publisher: New York Times Company Place of publication: New York, N.Y. Country of publication: United States Publication subject: General Interest Periodicals--United States ISSN: 03624331 CODEN: NYTIAO Source type: Newspapers Language of publication: English Document type: NEWSPAPER ProQuest document ID: 427422122 Document URL: http://search.proquest.com.proxy.elm4you.org/docview/427422122?accountid=45111 Copyright: Copyright New York Times Company Nov 26, 1989 Last updated: 2010-06-29 Database: New York Times; ProQuest Newsstand