Taken in a vacuum, professional wrestling
is pretty weird.
With all the costumes and the fanfare and
the crazy storylines, professional wrestling
is an odd duck, but it's wildly popular.
And the life of a professional wrestler isn't
easy in the least.
Here's the tough reality of what it's like
to ve a professional wrestler.
Workplace hazards
Professional wrestling has a lot more in common
with a Shakespearean play than the original
sport it was named after.
Wrestlers are actors, putting on heroic or
villainous performances to entertain a crowd.
However, the popular idea that wrestling is
fake doesn't do justice to the all-too-real
damage that wrestlers do to their bodies in
the name of art.
Sure, any good actor can fake a heel turn.
But try taking a metal chair to the head and
see how you feel the next day.
In 2016, the Chicago Tribune reported that
dozens of WWE wrestlers were suing the organization
over wrestling matches that had resulted in
long-term brain damage.
The primary accusation was that the WWE had
intentionally covered up these injuries to
avoid paying for proper medical treatments.
According to an attorney who represented wrestlers
in the now-dropped suit:
"Any of the finish moves that are sort of
high-flying, off the ropes, all of these involve
some amount of trauma to the head, even if
the moves are correctly performed."
And there's a bigger issue: Wrestling culture
itself encourages terrible injuries since
the audience goes so crazy over ridiculous
athletic feats.
An orthopedic surgeon writing for the Post
& Courier admitted that some of the moves
he sees wrestlers perform cause him to literally
hold his breath, and as an increasing number
of performers attempt these high-risk moves,
the horrific consequences have included broken
backs, snapped necks, torn quads, and ears
getting ripped off, according to Complex.
No rehearsals
Professional wrestling is scripted.
The winners are predetermined.
However, what you might not realize is that
the matches themselves are barely planned
out ahead of time.
According to The Week, the actual script summarizes
the entire blow-by-blow with only two terms:
"Match" for the fight and "Finish" for the
ending.
That means it's up to the wrestlers themselves
to figure out how many times they're going
to punch, grapple, and body-slam each other
before the whole thing reaches its planned
conclusion.
While many wrestlers do discuss a rough sequence
of events with each other, even those plans
can change on the fly.
According to one former independent wrestler,
those referees who seem to just bark orders
all the time continually give directions to
the wrestlers based on crowd reactions and
backstage directions they hear through their
earpieces.
Improv is one thing when you and a friend
are playing around on a stage making funny
voices.
But it's a lot more dangerous when you're
in front of a massive audience and someone
is stomping on your spine.
If your opponent decides to try some freaky
new move without warning and you're not prepared,
you might spend the night in the emergency
room.
Lives cut short
André the Giant.
Chyna.
Randy Savage.
Eddie Guerrero.
When you list the biggest names in wrestling
history, a shockingly high percentage of them
died at an early age.
As the BBC points out, statistics show that
wrestlers die younger more often than other
professional athletes.
When the University of Michigan studied 557
former wrestlers, they found that 49 of the
wrestlers were younger than 50 when they died,
and 24 of them weren't even 40 yet.
American football players engage in an equally
demanding profession, also have a high rate
of head injuries, and yet die young in far
lower numbers.
Cardiovascular disease seems to be the biggest
killer of wrestlers, and it isn't helped by
the aggressive injuries or the rock star lifestyle
that the wrestling circuit promotes.
Steroids, recreational drugs, and alcohol
abuse has often been rampant.
"Need anything else?
Painkillers, vics, percs?"
"No, bro.
I'm tapped."
"Demerol.
Oxycontins.
Sure?"
Another problem?
No vacation.
While football players run for a season, then
take the rest of the year off to sip margaritas,
wrestling careers don't offer much free time.
Some wrestlers have to be in the ring five
or six nights a week, every week, while undergoing
feverish travel routines.
It's a rough life.
Intense training
So, let's say you know the risks.
You understand the challenges.
Despite it all, you still dream of being a
professional wrestler.
Before you go waltzing into some random ring,
though, you're going to have to go to wrestling
school, where you'll pay decent money to have
someone kick the crap out of you.
There are a number of different programs that
will teach aspiring wrestlers how to work
the ring, make pained expressions, and play
to the crowd.
Business Insider reports that these schools
are sometimes taught by major WWE superstars
and can cost around $1,800 or more for a year's
sessions.
Not all wrestling schools are created equal,
though — like anywhere, there are good teachers
and bad teachers.
How rough do these classes get?
Ask Hulk Hogan.
According to Complex, the young Hogan's first
educational session came free with a broken
leg, courtesy of trainer Hiro Matsuda.
Despite this rather alarming incident, Hogan
came back a few months later, impressing everybody
with his dedication and, evidently, his lack
of an attorney.
Upfront cost
Even after paying for school and earning their
bruises, freshman wrestlers don't usually
just step into WWE and leave with a paycheck.
As Make Change points out, wrestling isn't
a 9-to-5 job with benefits.
It's a freelance gig that, at first, needs
to be balanced with a day job.
The first shows you book won't pay much, and
you'll probably be racking up debt with the
constant travel, gas bills, hotel charges,
costume repairs, and whatever medical needs
arise.
Once you've factored in the mental, physical,
and financial costs, add in time.
You'll spend hours at the gym bulking up,
then more hours self-promoting.
Of course, there's no assurance that all this
hard work is ever going to get you past the
low-paying independent circuit, which Cracked
says might earn you $50 on a good night, depending
on your location and popularity.
That's not anywhere close to the earnings
made by the WWE's John Cena, who pulls down
millions between his wrestling and other projects.
So sure, if you make it to the big leagues,
you'll earn a ton, but you'll have to struggle
and scrape to get there.
"People have different paths.
How was I hired?
I was sought out by WWE recruiters.
I was wrestling in small-town flea markets."
No employer health insurance
Most wrestlers are considered independent
contractors rather than employees.
They've got the same benefits as your Uber
driver, or the photographer you hired for
your wedding: squat.
According to SB Nation, even companies like
the mighty WWE don't provide health insurance
to their wrestlers.
It's one thing if a company doesn't want to
pay insurance bills for a traveling freelance
keyboard inspector.
But you'd hope there would be some coverage
for a job that entails daily headbutting.
To make matters even fishier, the WWE contract
mandates that wrestlers must have their own
insurance, paid for and maintained at their
expense.
What happens if somebody gets catastrophically
hurt?
Forbes points out that the contract includes
a clause waiving the wrestler's right to sue
in such unfortunate situations, even if the
injury is the promoter's fault.
For a sense of how problematic this clause
is, look at Owen Hart, who fell to his death
in 1999 because of a harness malfunction.
Hart's family sued the WWE and won an $18
million settlement, despite the clause.
Brutal schedule
Hate traveling?
Wrestling might not be your thing, then, because
you're going to be on the road so often that
the idea of a steady "routine" will seem as
fantastical as anything in Game of Thrones.
It's one thing if you're a new wrestler just
hitching a ride to any available shows you
can find on Craigslist, but even big league
WWE wrestlers have to constantly hop on planes,
do midnight drives, and see new cities like
there's no tomorrow.
Just ask Neville, known on the independent
scene as Pac who, according to Wrestling Inc.,
takes early morning flights without skipping
a beat.
Then there's Chris Jericho, who shared with
his Instagram followers how, over the course
of nine days, he was scheduled to fly between
Tampa, Detroit, Kansas City, London, Hong
Kong, Manila, Shanghai, Baltimore, and then
back to Tampa.
There's no time for sightseeing in that whirlwind.
Drug culture
Wrestlers are supposed to be ripped.
Sure, a skinny wrestler could try to make
up for their lanky physique with elaborate
costumes and theatrics, but for the most part,
people expect you to look like a Rob Liefeld
drawing.
That means lots of long, strenuous hours in
the gym, week after week, combined with ruthless
dieting.
Or you could take the easier way, ignore the
consequences, and simply grab some steroids
or human growth hormone.
Not surprisingly, numerous reports claim that
steroid and HGH abuse has often been rampant
in the wrestling community, with dire health
consequences.
Steroids aren't the only drugs that are prevalent
among wrestlers.
Bruises and broken bones often lead to painkillers,
which can be terrifyingly addictive.
Add in cocaine and muscle relaxants, and you've
got an increasingly deadly cocktail.
While big organizations like the WWE do have
drug policies, according to Forbes, the lax
enforcement of these has often come under
fire.
Part of the problem is that since wrestling
matches are scripted, those HGH-jacked physiques
don't impact the fights themselves.
Travis Tygart, CEO of the United States Anti-Doping
Agency, explains that, because of this fact,
drug policy specifics run into a loophole
so large, that:
"My three-year-old could drive a freight train
through it."
History of sexism
WWE has never been known for possessing much
social awareness or sensitivity, but the organization
has a particularly poor history when it comes
to the treatment of women.
Objectification, sexist taunts, body shaming,
and misogynistic stereotypes have been baked
into the formula for a long time.
And while recent moves to market products
to female fans are a step forward, the organization
still has a long way to go.
The sort of stories and characters available
to female wrestlers are still dramatically
limited compared to the opportunities afforded
to men, which has been attributed both to
a lack of women writers and the generally
misogynistic attitude of WWE owner Vince McMahon,
who once forced a female wrestler to strip
on stage as a punishment.
Then there's the pay gap.
The Daily Beast reports that male wrestlers
make 36 times more money on average than women.
So while the WWE has made a lot of surface
overtures about empowering women, the results
still show otherwise.
Signing away big rights
The WWE will do everything it can to make
you sign your life away, sometimes literally.
A contract analysis by Forbes shows that writing
your name on the dotted line can also mean
giving away some major rights you'd probably
rather hold onto.
Even though you're the one who spent years
creating and inhabiting the character you
play in the ring, this contract gives that
character's rights to the WWE, who will make
sure to market it, license it, and potentially
steer it into storylines you'd rather avoid.
What, you didn't plan on being a heel or saying
something particularly cringey?
Too bad.
Meanwhile, the contract also allows the WWE
to book you for events.
That sounds great until you're flying from
London to Las Vegas to Singapore every few
days.
But that's the nature of the business.
Far more concerning is the clause that clears
the WWE of all liability if an elaborate stunt
leaves you traumatized, paralyzed, dead, or
so on.
Apparently, this clause is written in all-caps
on the contracts of Triple H and Stephanie
McMahon.
For emphasis.
In-ring racism
WWE has a long, uncomfortable history of exploiting
racist and xenophobic stereotypes to sell
tickets.
For example, the Guardian points to many villain
characters, such as the Iron Sheik, who traded
on anti-Muslim stereotypes to get the audience
rooting for a blond, white, male hero.
Just as damaging has been the treatment of
black wrestlers, who have been portrayed as
cannibalistic headhunters from Uganda, voodoo
priests, and pimps.
Though smaller wrestling organizations have
tried to shift the industry away from such
stereotypes, the WWE still has a long way
to go.
In 2017, the Washington Post reported that
one wrestler went on a scripted tirade filled
with racist stereotypes about Asians.
This sort of blatant prejudice is obviously
not okay, but as the Atlantic points out,
the racism in WWE storylines is usually more
subtle, though equally damaging.
For example, even though Kofi Kingston won
the WWE championship at Wrestlemania, many
of the WWE's black wrestlers are usually positioned
as "jobbers," meaning they lose matches to
bolster the profile of an opponent.
The WWE often pretends that these racial stereotypes
are employed for satirical purposes, but the
organization has a serious race problem.
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