What happened to the singles titles?

At WrestleMania 30, there is exactly one scheduled singles title match.
This is unacceptable.

Since the WWE and World Heavyweight Championships merged a few months ago, I expected the United States and Intercontinental Championships to finally get some love and attention. So far, no luck. You'd think that with one less title for Superstars to feud for, they'd need to make the ones they have as prominent as possible to compensate. So far, no luck.

Right now, Big E's only involvement at 'Mania is in a Royal Rumble-style match (which should be sweet, even if the stakes aren't very high), and the Shield appear to be feuding with Corporate Kane and the Old Age Outlaws, so I doubt Ambrose will defend his belt either.

Come to think of it, I can't remember the last time Ambrose fought for his U.S. title, which begs the question: why does he even have it? Shield are doing well enough for themselves that they don't need the U.S. title attached to one of their three guys. They don't need the push in that way. I could see Reigns defeating Ambrose for it once they split up, and I figured that would be at 'Mania, but... Well, that's not happening.

Big E shouldn't have it either--not because he's a bad performer and doesn't deserve a belt, but recently the Intercontinental title has hurt people more than it's helped them. People win it, and they get a quick burst of popularity, but a couple months later nobody cares. At all. And then the torch gets passed to some new guy, and the previous champion fades away.

The IC title used to have the opposite effect. Guys would earn it, prove they were championship material, then move on to the next belt: either the WWE or the WHC. But now there's only the WWEWHC, and there are increasingly longer title reigns. Yes, I remember the days when JBL and HHH had their respective titles for like a year, but that was when there were other belts that actually meant something. Now, there's just the WWEWHC, and nothing is being done with any of the others.

So, what the hell? Why does only one belt have any prestige today? And what needs to be done to fix this? My suggestion is that they should put the U.S. or IC on main event guys and boost them that way. Imagine if like...Cena, Bryan, and Lesnar held today's singles titles. Suddenly you've got three huge ongoing story lines and three coveted belts.

The U.S. and IC titles have this weird stigma now of being for "up-and-comers" or whatever, like they're so far beneath main event guys, but why does it need to be that way? Why not make all the belts super prestigious, with only a little extra attention given to the WWEWHC? There are only three belts, after all, and there are so many Superstars right now, it'd be a wonderful way to keep more of them engaged in stories audiences care about.

But I want to know what you think they should do with the men's singles titles, so continue the discussion in the comments section. I'll be sure to give my thoughts on your potential solutions.

Until next time, have a nice day, and don't be jabroni.

Coming Soon: The Total Divas' Division!

Time to take a look at some story lines as we head toward the final episode of Monday Night RAW before WM. Most are making great strides to build (and maintain) hype, though some are decelerating fast on the Road to WrestleMania. Unfortunately, one feud that has been stalling for some time has been Divas' Champion AJ Lee vs. Naomi.

Now, Naomi was injured, so it's no one's fault (except the person who viciously kneed her in the orbital bone), but now she's got a sparkly new eyepatch, and it's looking like she's going to end AJ's streak. So everything's going her way, I guess, but I couldn't care less. AJ has been in a holding pattern since the injury (and for a while before then, actually), and the feud has no fuel except for that stale old "I beat you, so I get a title shot" story line that never manages to be exciting.

AJ hasn't been doing anything with the belt, which isn't her fault either, but that's how these things work. She's had the thing longer than anybody ever, and it's time for a change. Not necessarily a change for the better, but a change nonetheless.

I imagine Tamina and AJ will feud without the belt in the picture, and then the "Total Divas" can battle for it. But again, I don't care. Total Divas is going to commandeer the Divas' division any second now, alienating everyone who doesn't watch that garbage,  as arguments from that show start spilling over onto RAW and SmackDown!, like, "Remember that thing you did during taping? Well, now I want revenge!" And crap like that.

You know it'd gonna happen. Just brace for it. I can hear Cole now, telling us to download the new Total Divas app and follow all the wacky drama on the WWE Network. Yay! Pretty soon the division will be divided between Total Divas and...Partial Divas? Yeah, let's go with that. Which might be okay. Maybe it'll be like the old days, with the Divas' Championship and the Women's Championship. The whole RAW vs. SmackDown! thing has been moot for a while, but it could work, and it wouldn't take much.

But I'm really just thinking of ways they can revitalize the Divas' Division. It seems hopeless at the moment with the "talent" they have available, but there are possibilities beyond this reality show BS. Maybe they'll make the Diva's Championship bout at WrestleMania a Table Match? That happens sometimes, right? Otherwise, I won't be invested. At all.


Next time on the Ramble: Why are there no feuds for the Intercontinental or U.S. Titles at 'Mania?!

Until then, have a nice day, and don't be a jabroni.

Will you PLEASE -- shut -- the hell -- up?!

There's something refreshing about watching wrestling without the constant, grating chatter of inane monkeys. I'm talking of course about Michael Cole, Jerry Lawler, and JBL, the trio of commentators who never, and I mean NEVER, stop bickering and bitching throughout RAW and Smackdown. Most of the time they don't add anything relevant, insightful or engaging, and they actually detract from my enjoyment of the show.

So when I went to a live show on March 7, I was relieved to finally be allowed to watch the Superstars perform without being distracted and annoyed by those three argumentative assclowns. Never once did I think, "You know what this impressive show of physical story telling is missing? A grown man telling his broadcast partner to call a WAAAHmbulance. Again!" I didn't miss them at all, and that got me thinking:

WWE needs to add the option of muting the announcers.

With the WWE Network, it's certainly possible now. Before, they'd have to broadcast two different feeds on multiple channels, or play an announcer-free version later or something, but with the WWE Network, they can do it all digitally. They can simultaneously stream separate shows.

I would pay money -- hell, I would pay EXTRA to be able to watch WWE without announcers. The sound of slamming the guy on the mat, the rowdy chants, the entrance themes -- I want to hear what I would hear live, and nothing more. It's just clutter, and it's gotta stop.

I can't concentrate on the matches. They argue about dance moves sometimes! Even when they call the match, they repeat themselves week after week and state the obvious. They have a stock response for every signature move, taunt, entrance, and expression on a guy's face. I'm sick of their catch phrases, I'm tired of their voices, and I'm fed up with their arguing.

Enough is enough.

It's gotten to the point where I'm actually groaning and commenting out loud on the stupid things they say. Imagine watching every single movie for the first time with the director's commentary on; it'd drive you mental. There's no way you could enjoy it fully. For THREE HOURS every Monday, it's a steady stream of verbal diarrhea with no respite save for the brief moment when I fast forward through the commercials.

"It's a flying goat!" -- "Vintage Orton!" -- "Shut up and call the match!" -- "Hash tag Yes Movement!" -- "Don't forget to the download the WWE App!" -- "The most chilling/thrilling/intimidating/entertaining match/entrance/Superstar/event of ALL TIME!"

I can't take it. Just thinking about them is irritating. I can't dwell on this anymore, so...

Until next time, have a nice day, and don't be a jabroni.

Sargent & Victor & Gillian & Theresa & Me

Because school has kept me too busy to keep up with wrestling (and because I have a blog assignment to write here), we’ll be postponing WWE talk again this week to discuss a new one-woman play entitled Sargent & Victor & Me.

Debbie Patterson, the one woman, plays multiple characters based on interviews with real people from Winnipeg, people familiar with the intersection of Sargent and Victor. For the most part, the act works. Patterson mimics the voices of each character, and some impressions are so vivid, from her gestures to her tone, she almost transforms. This is particularly true with the character of Theresa, an aboriginal teenage prostitute, who Patterson skillfully portrays to tell the girl’s tragic story.

However, some characters don’t quite work, as Patterson pulls off an “old fogey” voice no better than anyone you might pick at random off the street. Sometimes it was just too hard to suspend my disbelief, and her acting occasionally came across as silly.

Sillier still were the vaguely spiritual dances Patterson sluggishly performed to transition between scenes and accompany newscasts. The production team admitted to the audience after the show that they didn’t know what to do during these segments, and it was obvious. The apparent solution was to just let Patterson wiggle around for a bit.

It was also difficult at times to discern which character Patterson was playing, especially early on when the audience wasn’t familiar with anyone yet. There were lighting cues, some more distinct than others, to differentiate characters, but one couldn’t recognize these cues until later when they started repeating.

Every so often, Patterson would channel her inner Gollum from The Lord of the Rings, talking to herself to further confuse matters. There were enough rapidly changing characters to complicate things without them speaking to each other in one body.

Speaking of the body, Patterson and the character she embodies, Gillian, have multiple sclerosis. Gillian’s segments were the strongest bits of the play, combining bawdy humour with poignant monologues about living with the disease. Much of Gillian seemed like a caricature of the frustrations related to MS, a way for Patterson to exaggerate her own emotions, and it worked.

The small set, designed to resemble a food bank, allowed Patterson to move around, with objects like tables and chairs for support. The play probably wouldn’t have worked without a set structured to make her movements easier.

The sound, however, was an issue for me. While some of the piano music was wonderful, other music was little more than feedback, or the screeching of some unidentified stringed instrument that may have been a guitar or a violin. I’m guessing those sounds were meant to accentuate Gillian’s pain and anxiety or something, but they were just…irritating. So despite some pleasant piano, I felt the sound detracted from Patterson’s performance instead of complementing it.

I don’t watch plays often, but a few months ago I saw Social Studies at Prairie Theatre Exchange, a play about a dysfunctional white family that takes in a Sudanese refugee. Because that play had four performers, the pace was much faster, with characters playing off each other to deliver jokes and keep the energy in the room high. By comparison, Sargent & Victor & Me was methodical and deliberate, which hurt and helped it.

It hurt it because the performer was extremely limited. She was one woman with MS, and she needed to command the audience’s attention at all times. Unlike in Social Studies, there was nothing else to consider, no one else to look at, so when a particular moment was weak, it was obvious. In a band, one occasionally squeaky clarinet doesn’t stand out as much as it would during a solo performance. Every mistake is just that much more pronounced.

It helps, though, because every success is that much more impressive. The two greatest successes in the story, the characters of Theresa and Gillian, especially stood out, and their stories definitely affected me the most.

Knowing Theresa’s tale was real, and having a family member who lived through similar events, I felt her story was important to hear, even if was at times difficult to hear. If it was just a character in a play, I might not have cared so much, but it seemed to me like Patterson really tried to portray Theresa accurately and fairly, and it showed in the way she delivered her lines and became the character.

As affecting as Theresa’s story was, though, I was definitely moved the most by Gillian’s story. I don’t have MS, and I certainly hope I never do, but I do know what it’s like to feel useless and depressed. My hurdles are more mental than physical, but the things Gillian was saying were like some of the thoughts I’ve had before. So seeing Gillian’s journey and redemption, and knowing Patterson’s similar circumstances, I had an unexpectedly strong emotional reaction.

I came into the play never believing I’d be moved by one woman pretending to be her brother—but I came out hopeful and somewhat inspired. The themes of human resiliency and the desire for change resonated with me, and the play encouraged me to strive toward my own betterment. Put simply, Sargent & Victor & Me taught me to focus on what I can do, not what I can’t do.

A Thousand Farewells

Let’s take a break from the exasperating state of WWE to highlight a certain famous Winnipegger. No, I’m not talking about Chris Jericho. Ladies and gentlemen, I interrupt your scheduled WWE blog post to bring you my far-from-expert opinion on Nahlah Ayed’s book, A Thousand Farewells.

If you watch or follow CBC News, you may be familiar with Nahlah Ayed, a foreign correspondent who has spent years covering the Middle East. In A Thousand Farewells, Ayed gives a candid look into her life and her experiences in the region, providing extensive and sometimes startling insight well beyond standard reporting. Here are some of my thoughts on what I read.

Ayed provides excellent context, telling the circumstances of the Middle East and its people. Through her family’s hardships and sacrifices, and her own experiences as a child living in a refugee camp, the reader relates with the desperation so common in the region. Throughout her book, Ayed writes not only about her family, but about the rage, frustration, and grief of dozens of individuals, helping the reader comprehend the situation. By knowing their personal strife, we can better understand the underlying causes, the political turmoil, and the conflicting desire for stability and change.

The Middle East can seem so far away from Winnipeg, its problems and people just vague information in the news, but Ayed puts it into perspective by giving the poverty and oppression voices. We move from the comforts of Canada to the slums of Jordan with her, and the best parts of the book are when she connects the reader with the emotions of those coping with adversity that is hard to even imagine. 

What doesn’t work so well, however, are the frequently long, dry history lessons. With all the dates, names, and sometimes extraneous details, the history drags in parts and removes the reader from the narrative. While it’s important to know the reasons behind the revolutions later in the book—the senseless torture, futile elections, unwarranted arrests—the occasionally redundant explanations of political parties and religious groups could’ve probably been left out.

Also, it might’ve been nice to hear more from the people who were so close to Ayed during her years in the Middle East. She frequently mentions her driver, her fixer, her cameramen and producers, but rarely do they say or do anything—in the book, anyway. I’m sure they were very vocal during their time with Ayed. I get that she couldn’t exactly record them for quotes at all times, but she seems isolated and alone when really she’s traveling with a tight group. If something is missing from the book, it’s more interactions with her companions, because they often feel like faceless ghosts floating at her side.

And that’s weird, because at the end of the day, the book is about understanding people, which is why I wish there were less raw history lessons and more reactions and interviews. If journalists take anything away from A Thousand Farewells, let it be that stories are not about stark statistics or a chronology of events. Sure, those things can help create context for a story, but they are not the story itself.

For years I’ve watched stories about conflicts in the Middle East, but rarely have they felt so important or tangible than when I was reading A Thousand Farewells and learning about the people involved. The number of people who have died in a conflict is tragic. However, that statistic means little compared to the reactions of people witnessing all those dead getting ripped out of a mass grave. 

To any journalists reading this, the following was one of my favourite bits from the book, and I hope you can appreciate why.

Nahlah Ayed wrote: “You must also be able to put yourself in the shoes of anyone, anywhere, to truly tell their story. People are not quotes or clips used to illustrate stories about war and conflict. People are the story, always.”

And I think that’s why non-fiction television shows like The First 48 are growing in popularity. You turn on the news and you hear stories of crime every night. Someone gets robbed, someone gets assaulted, someone gets killed, but you don’t see or hear anyone involved outside of maybe a photograph and a brief clip or quote.

But with something like The First 48, you witness the mother's reaction to her son getting shot. You see the wife’s reaction to her husband getting arrested. You see killers and victims in their natural state, and it’s all much more powerful and meaningful compared to the objective news.

A Thousand Farewells and The First 48 share that spirit of journalism: people are the real story. Both cover stories we receive in the form of raw information from other sources, and both enhance those stories by giving us the emotion. Through interviews and reactions, the stories become personal and engaging in a way that straight facts simply can't reproduce. That's what makes them so intriguing.

That said, I don’t think people enjoy watching tragedies. I believe we empathize, and perhaps we feel obligated to know and tell these stories to honour the victims and acknowledge the events that affect our world. It does no one any good to ignore suffering simply because it’s uncomfortable. People will never make strides toward change or progress unless they can learn from the mistakes and choices of others.  

A Thousand Farewells affected me in that it opened my eyes to a world I’ve been guilty of ignoring. I would turn on the news to see young Arab people throwing rocks at riot police, and I’d just shake my head and change the channel, never bothering to wonder why. “That has nothing to do with me,” I might think, but the world is so much bigger than Canada, even if it all sometimes feels so far away.

I’m glad Ayed could enlighten me to the circumstances of the Middle East and its people. She helped me understand that even if I might curse Winnipeg as its winter winds scratch through my gloves and bite my fingers, I should never take this land for granted. I think most of us here in Canada know how fortunate we are compared to other regions of the world—but sometimes it’s nice to have a reminder.

Until next time, have a nice day, and don’t be a jabroni.

Elimination Chamber Sunday (but let's talk Shield)

It's around this time of the year that I'm most excited for WWE, but some recent events have more or less "harshed my buzz." I'm still pumped for WrestleMania, aside from the main event, but Elimination Chamber has been little more than a road block for a while now. Basically it exists only to set up matches for WrestleMania. There used to be two chamber matches in a night, and they used to be brutal, but with the major belts now combined, the pay-per-view is somewhat restricted this year. That's not to mention the winner is predictable, and the card is looking kind of weak, and...

Bleh.

I'd do my usual three predictions, but there are only two matches really worth talking about: The Wyatts vs. The Shield, something I've been wanting to see for some time, and the Chamber itself.

Wyatts vs. Shield is interesting not only because it should be an incredible match, but because the Wyatts haven't had a really big pay-per-view win yet, and The Shield look to be dissolving soon, with "dissension in the ranks" and all that. Wyatts beating Shield would be huge for them, especially with a convincing clean win. It'll help them gain some momentum going forward, and we can maybe, finally see some singles competition/gimmicks for Shield members once they inevitably split.

And you know, I could talk about the Chamber too, but Randy Orton will win. I hope I'm wrong. I'm probably not. So let's talk about The Shield and what their singles careers might look like instead.

Dean Ambrose could be an amazing villain if allowed some creative freedom with his character. Right now he's trapped by a "weak link" angle that isn't getting him anywhere. If he gets crazy(er), he could really do some damage wherever he goes. He likely won't be pushed, even though he was U.S. champ not too long ago, but if he keeps putting on entertaining matches and promos, it won't matter. I say he should be happy playing around and having fun in the mid-card for the time being.

Seth Rollins was NXT champ and a pretty popular face, but I'm worried about him because while he's a fantastic physical wrestler, he might get stuck in Kofi Kingston territory. Smaller guys like him tend to pull off incredible moves and have thrilling, memorable moments here and there, but they don't main event. The exception of course is CM Punk. Maybe they'll fill his void with Seth simply because they look alike? Who knows, but I like Seth a lot and don't wanna see him buried.

Roman Reigns is...Roman Reigns. I talked about him in a previous post, so I'll just quickly say that he could be massive within no time. He's big, fast, charismatic, popular, pretty, the real deal. Reigns could be a future champion, if not the future face of the company. He'd have to contend with Cesaro's heat right now, since The Real Americans could split soon if they decide to push Cesaro, but that's another whole topic for another day.

Anyway, I'm picking Wyatts to beat Shield, and then looking forward to WrestleMania. If through some miracle Daniel Bryan or Cesaro win the Chamber I'll be pumped for the main event, but otherwise I don't care. Batista vs. Orton is the match no one wants to see, and since it'll be the last match of the night, I might actually not see it.We'll, er...see.

Until next time, have a nice day, and don't be a jabroni.

Who is the next face of WWE?

John Cena has arguably been the face of WWE for the last decade, being the biggest draw for casual fans, appearing in multiple films and generating the most money for the company.

Now, for the purposes of this post, let's say the "face" of WWE is the person placed on posters, the one who sells tickets and merchandise, the one with which the average person and the media is most familiar. If you ask someone on the street who John Cena or The Rock is, they'll probably know. If you ask who Bray Wyatt is, however, you might find more than a few clueless individuals.

The problem is that WWE isn't yet willing to let their current superstars headline big events (like WrestleMania), opting instead to promote past superstars who more people are familiar with (Rock, Batista, etc.). It makes sense from a business standpoint--regular viewers will watch WM anyway, so target casual fans--but eventually WWE will "run out" of these past stars as they age and people stop caring about their infrequent appearances. Eventually, they'll need a new face to drive sales.

So, who's the next face of WWE? Let's consider...


Daniel Bryan


Likely the most popular superstar among regular viewers right now, Daniel Bryan is an incredible technical wrestler with a massive fan base, but the average person is probably unaware of him, his talent, or his ability. Despite his consistently thrilling performances, Bryan will need some considerable promotion to make him relevant outside of those who watch WWE every week.







Sheamus


This guy already sells merch, has appeared in commercials promoting the brand, is especially popular with female and young viewers, and puts on consistent performances that are, while not always spectacular, usually free from botches and include a plethora of engaging, signature moves. It wouldn't be hard to write a story line for Sheamus that would put him over--the issue is his very specific character, an Irish hooligan that may not appeal to a vast audience.






Roman Reigns

This may sound like an odd pick, but Reigns is The Rock's cousin after all, and he's arguably the most popular member of The Shield, the WWE's premier, ticket-driving faction right now. He's only been in WWE for under 2 years, but with the right campaign, his popularity could skyrocket. He has the looks, talents, and fans to quickly rise to the top. His repertoire of signature moves is rapidly growing (Superman Punch, Spear, Apron Dropkick, etc.), so not only is he exciting to watch, he's only a few steps away from greatness.



 Until next time, have a nice day, and don't be a jabroni.

(photos from wwe.com)