Below is the resulting article. I had soooo much content that I wanted to use, but I had a word limit of 1000, and after revisions, this was the result. I don't know if it's my best article, but it's my favourite, and I'll always look back fondly on it as possibly my last journalism-related assignment. Thanks again to Keam and Angle. I couldn't have done this without your generous input.
Enjoy the read!
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Many people are probably familiar with hockey, basketball,
and football, and they can appreciate the talented professionals in these
sports because they can relate. They have their own experiences scoring goals,
shooting baskets, and catching passes—but how many people have hopped into a
wrestling ring and jumped off the top rope, or driven somebody through a table,
or crashed to the mat following a body slam? Professional wrestling may not be as
familiar to Canadians as a sport like hockey, though it can demand just as much
effort, skill, and sacrifice.
Back in 1996, Kurt Angle won a gold medal in freestyle wrestling
at the Olympics before transitioning into World Wrestling Entertainment (WWE,
formally WWF). He quickly became a champion there, too, though it wasn’t easy
for him to translate his experiences into professional wrestling.
“There’s just so many aspects of pro wrestling. If there was
ever a sport that was the complete opposite, it’s Olympic wrestling,” says
Angle. “It’s not just the stunts or the athletic ability. There’s character
development. There’s obviously promo skills, acting skills, how to politic the
right way, what to do… There’s no sport like it.”
Although professional wrestling matches are more like performances
than competitions, that doesn’t mean they aren’t taxing, difficult, or painful.
“The two most physical, demanding sports are Olympic-style
wrestling and football,” says Angle. “I’ve done them both for many, many, many
years, and neither one can hold a candle to the physicality of pro wrestling.
Not just because you’re landing on plywood, but you’re doing it 300 days a
year. By the time you’re 50, 55, you’re going to have arthritis in every part
of your body, and for pretty much the rest of your life you’re going to suffer.
But is it worth all that pain? I think so.”
Wrestling even infrequently carries a high risk of injury.
WWE constantly reminds its viewers, “Don’t try this at home, school, or
anywhere.” WWE Superstars undergo years of training to learn how to perform
their moves safely, and even local wrestlers go through weeks of intense
practice to learn the basics.
Graeme Keam, a promoter and wrestler for Primos Wrestling
Canada in Winnipeg, knows the dangers of the sport firsthand. During a hardcore
match featuring tables, tacks, and barbwire, Keam was on a table when his
opponent landed on his legs; however, the wood didn’t break, and he
hyperextended his knee.
“It was the only match I’ve ever done where I was terrified,”
says Keam, who wrestles under the name Mat Critic. “With the tacks and the
barbwire, it was very nerve-racking. I used to do hardcore matches, but it’s
not worth it. Leave that to the younger guys who don’t have anything special to
deliver.”
“I like to wrestle; I’m not a hardcore guy,” says Angle. “I
see a newcomer doing a hardcore match and I say, ‘See that bastard right there?
I will never work with him.’ I want to see somebody that can chain wrestle, who
has psychology, that can tell a story and do it safe.”
Much of pro wrestling is physical storytelling using
concepts like “spots” and “chain wrestling.” Chain wrestling describes a series
of moves, holds, and counters that keep matches fluid and fast-paced, but
they’re usually improvised. Conversely, spots are planned moments or attacks
that wrestlers know they need to perform during a match, and they help
structure a story leading up to who wins or loses.
“Some guys like to put the whole match together backstage,”
says Angle. “I don’t like to pre-plan all that much. I like to go out there and
improvise, but you always have to have a structure. You can’t just go out there
without a structure. You can, but the match won’t be quite as good.”
“It’s got its level of fake, but it has to, or else you
wouldn’t be able to guarantee anything,” says Keam. “With something like the
UFC (Ultimate Fighting Championship), you can pay 300 dollars for a seat to a
main event that lasts 30 seconds. At least with wrestling, you’re getting what
you came to see.”
Another aspect of pro wrestling, beyond the physical
storytelling, are the characters that get viewers invested. There are heroes
and villains that drive audiences to care about the outcomes of matches, which can
make talking on a microphone as important as wrestling in the ring.
“You could be the best physical wrestler in the world, but
if you don’t have a character that anybody is interested in, nobody cares,”
says Keam. “Even at our level, if you can’t sell 10 tickets to 10 friends,
you’re not doing it well.”
“My favourite was always the character development,” says
Angle, who played a hero and a villain at WWE. “Being a bad guy, there’s a lot
more dimension to it. I was such a good bad guy, whether it was being a goofball
or just plain arrogant, and when you’re good at it, people start to enjoy it.”
Regarding the future of the business, Angle says he’s
excited for professional wrestling, which is why he’s going to stay for about
four more years. He now works for Total Nonstop Action Wrestling, though he
looks back fondly on his years in WWE.
“My career has been very blessed. There’s nothing else I can
add to it except more five star matches. I’ve done it all. I have no regrets
about my past or my wrestling.”
And that includes his rather drastic career change.
“In Olympic-style wrestling, one of the only things that’s
fun about it is getting your hand raised,” says Angle. “Pro wrestling? I love
the whole thing. I love entertaining the fans. So, which one do I respect more?
Olympic wrestling, by far. But which one do I love more? Pro wrestling.”
