Beyond Nitro w/ Guy Evans - Nostalgia, the Monday Night Wars and Wrestling’s Elusive ‘Boom Period’ [Article] (Patreon)

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There Is No Next:

Nostalgia, the Monday Night Wars and Wrestling’s Elusive ‘Boom Period’

Part 1: A Curious Encounter

“Behold!” exclaimed the industry veteran, pausing for dramatic effect.

“The king of circular logic lives among us!”

It was around this time, I noticed, that his words were taking on a theatrical flair. We may have been sitting in a dimly lit alehouse, but for all intents and purposes, it might as well have been Madison Square Garden. What started as an interview had devolved into an old-school battle of wits - and apparently, we were going broadway.

“Look,” I clarified, “You know it’s not necessarily my viewpoint – but it’s an argument that’s out there.”

“An argument…,” he repeated, “…that’s out there. Out where?”

Before I could respond, the old pro erupted in laughter. “Ah, I’m just fuckin’ with you,” he said. “I know you’re just doing your job…but run it by me one more time. I’ll try to give you an answer that’s fit to print.”

“Well,” I said, “There are those in your business - the business of pro wrestling - who claim that the industry has significantly…evolved. They say…”

“Changed,” he interjected. “The industry has changed.”

“No,” I replied, “They say, ‘The modern style of wrestling, in comparison to generations past, is more sophisticated, more polished…more…’, I don’t know - evolved.

“They say, ‘Guys today are doing things the old-timers couldn’t dream about.’

“Couldn’t dream about…,” he mumbled to himself, rocking in his chair a little, considering whether to engage with the notion further.

“Forget all that,” he said quickly, thinking better of it; interrupting himself in the process.

“This is what I mean by circular logic,” he said. “So in a nutshell, the argument is: ‘Whatever is newer…is by definition better. Modern wrestling is newer; therefore, modern wrestling is better.’ Did I get that right?”

“I wouldn’t say it’s that straightforward,” I said. “But do they have a point, though? Things are on an upswing right now. It’s like one of your great co-workers used to say, right? ‘Business is starting to pick up…’

“Well, yeah,” he shrugged, calling for another drink in swift succession. “I mean, based on what these guys have been doing for the last 20 years, there’s been nowhere to go but up, so…”

Before long, as was occurring frequently throughout our interview, two patrons stopped by with a familiar request.

“Sure thing, guys,” granted the veteran, deftly positioning himself for a photo.

“Appreciate your support.”

“I used to love watching you on TV,” beamed one of the patrons, happily checking the image on his smartphone. “It means a lot - thank you.”

“Alright,” sighed the veteran, slowly returning to his seat.

“Look,” he continued, snapping back into the conversation. “Fuck whatever I was just telling you: here’s the deal. Do you see that guy’s iPhone?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, noting his reference to the fan-just-departed.

“People think…,” began the former wrestler, operating now like the consummate pro - adapting on the fly; going with whatever there was to work with.

“People think…” he repeated, “…that just because we have that fuckin’ supercomputer in our pocket, everything is so much better than ‘back in the day’ - am I right?”

“Maybe,” I replied. “To a degree.”

“Well here’s what I know from my degree,” he said. “The degree I got from working in the pro wrestling business: 30-plus years. I’m just gonna be honest with you. They might say we couldn’t do what they do now, but guess what? They couldn’t do what we did back then, either.

“Our shit was just better…that’s number one,” he emphasized. “That’s why I’m still getting picture requests, and the guys you see on TV today are on the side of a milk carton. We weren’t diving all over each other like cirque du soleil - there was a reality to what we did out there.

“Number two,” he continued, becoming ever more animated. “Have you heard of the expression, ‘Father Time is undefeated?’

“Sure,” I responded.

“Okay,” he said. “Well, here’s another one for you:

“Nostalgia has the longest win streak of them all, brother.”

——

Part 2: The Basis of Nostalgia

The tendency of human beings to engage in nostalgia (taken from the greek word, nostos; or the feeling of returning home) is hardly a new development. At one level of analysis, a certain temporal inevitability, it could be argued, appears rather inherent to the process; in other words, provided that enough time has elapsed between a given stimulus (i.e. the event, place, or time period provoking nostalgia in the first place) and the corresponding response (i.e. the reminiscence of such occurrences, albeit through a present-day lens), almost anything can fall subject to the oft-cited refrain: that which is old eventually becomes new again.

In general, there seems to exist a certain rhythm to nostalgia –  an inescapable cycle dictating its lifespan. In the world of fashion, for example, the existence of ‘Laver’s Law’ (so named after the British historian James Laver) predicts how various clothing trends, as measured in sales volume, experience the same chronological stages: introduction, acceptance, rejection, and ultimately, re-introduction. “Ten years before its time,” wrote Laver in his 1937 book, Taste and Fashion, “a fashion is indecent; ten years after, it is hideous; but a century after, it is romantic.”

But before the expansion of advanced telecommunication mediums (such as television), the development of robust archival solutions, and later, technological innovations such as the Internet - nostalgia was mostly understood, as per the German scholar Tobias Becker, as mostly a mental state resembling its original Greek meaning: homesickness. Famously, these historical roots of nostalgia (in addition to its emotional basis and modern-day manifestations) were exploited masterfully in Mad Men, AMC’s period drama depicting a ‘60s-era ad agency. “Nostalgia,” begins Don Draper, the series’ protagonist, in a presentation to executives from the Eastman Kodak company, “literally means ‘the pain from an old wound’. It’s a twinge in your heart - far more powerful than memory alone.”

Tasked with marketing its new slide projector device, Draper attaches a sentimental value to Kodak’s invention. “This device,” he continues, rotating wistfully through a collection of old family photos, “isn’t a spaceship – it’s a time machine. It goes backwards…and forwards. It takes us to a place where we ache to go again.”

In modern times, the significance of an innovation such as slide photography, as demonstrated in the episode of Mad Men, now seems to be a rather quaint footnote from history. After all, the tools made possible via the digital revolution - including, most notably, the ability to (reliably) record, disseminate and re-contextualize events ad infinitum - have since introduced a deeper dimension to nostalgia. It is perhaps this change that explains, in part, the increasing prevalence of nostalgic elements in popular culture.

In 1981, for example, only 16% of the year’s most popular movies were sequels, spinoffs or remakes - by 2019, however, this percentage rose to exceed 80%. Similarly, so-called “old songs” - defined as such by MRC Data, a music-analytics firm - currently make up seven-tenths of the U.S. music market. “The new-music market is actually shrinking,” summarized one piece in The Atlantic. “All the growth in the market is coming from old songs.”

Moreover, a cursory glance at the line-up for the latest Super Bowl halftime shows, with few exceptions granted, suggests an overwhelming interest in stars made famous during an earlier time (the 2022 edition of the show, for example, featured rappers Snoop Dogg, born during the Nixon administration, and Dr. Dre, just days away from turning 57). A similar emphasis on the past can be observed across a number of entertainment genres, including, admittedly, a spectacle for which there is no obvious analogue: professional wrestling.

——

Part 3: The Next Round

“How about this?”

Back in the bar, I was starting to enjoy playing the role of spoiler. “The biggest year in WWE history,” I said, reading aloud from my phone. “Highest social media views ever. Highest merchandise revenue ever. Highest sponsorship revenue ever. Highest premium live event viewership ever. Highest-grossing ticket sales ever.”

“Interesting metrics,” grizzled the old pro, his sarcasm practically dripping from the table.

“Well, financially, they’re definitely on fire,” I said, resuming my contrarian character. “I mean…is this not the ‘next wrestling boom’ we’ve been promised for how many years now?”

“Nope,” he responded.

“Why not?” I asked.

“There is no ‘next’,” he declared, matter-of-factly. “That horse left the barn a long time ago.”

“So you’re saying,” I surmised, “that regardless of how much money the industry leader makes, it can never surpass its own history? You’re saying that a ‘boom period’ is about what…cultural relevance? Mainstream popularity?”

“Sure, all those words you just said,” smiled the seasoned grappler. “I mean, is what we see now anything like the Attitude Era? How it was in the 90s? Look, I’m not saying that wrestling won’t be that big again.

“I’m saying…it can’t be.”

——

Part 4: Anatomy of a Boom

The history of wrestling, in the United States especially, offers the record of various ‘boom’ periods (or sustained peaks in fan interest), followed by periods of relative disinterest. These ‘cycles’ emerge, it has long been theorized, in concert with various external trends; including advancements in technology, cultural shifts, and contemporary socio-economic factors.

The expansion of Vince McMahon’s World Wrestling Federation (WWF), for example, in the mid-to-late 1980s specifically, accompanied the rapid growth of cable television and pay-per-view. Moreover, the WWF ‘boom’ - fundamentally built around the ‘larger than life’ personas of Hulk Hogan, ‘Rowdy’ Roddy Piper and ‘Macho Man’ Randy Savage - occurred at a time in which action movies, in terms of production frequency, peaked as a movie genre. G.I. Joe and He-Man figures flew off the shelves. Heartland rock songs like ‘Born in the USA’ garnered heavy rotation on radio and MTV (the latter of which was brilliantly exploited, incidentally, via McMahon’s own ‘Rock and Wrestling’ campaign).

Similarly, the culturally conservative tone of WWF programming (with Hogan, its patriotic protagonist, defending the ‘American Way’) resonated to viewers in 1984 - the purported ‘summertime of American resurgence’ - in a manner that would be parodied only a generation later. Enveloping it all, of course, was an economic resurgence (deficit spending aside) bolstered by high growth, low inflation rates and full employment. Personal disposable income, for which the entertainment business (including pro wrestling) relies, rose upwards throughout the decade.

A decade later, the boom initiated via the ‘Monday Night Wars’ - the famous head-to-head ratings competition between McMahon’s WWF and Ted Turner’s World Championship Wrestling (WCW) - also benefited from a number of extraneous conditions. While primarily, the era derived its appeal from an unprecedented array of superstar talent, innovative storylines, creative production methods, and - above all else - the competition itself, a variety of external elements acted, as if through force multiplication, to amplify the reach of wrestling further.

To a host of old school fans, the corresponding time period - 1995 to 2001 - represents a number of themes which transcend its subject matter; notably, the rise of early Internet culture, the still-active notion of mainstream, the limits of creative expression, ‘edgy’ entertainment that ‘pushed the envelope’, television and its cultural power (including, as a corollary, the decline of the televised communal experience), and the relative tranquility of America’s cultural, economic and political affairs (often described, with respect to the Western World generally, as an apparent ‘holiday from history’).

It was in this context that the explosion in wrestling’s popularity occurred. The now-mostly outdated concept of a common mass culture, achieved partly through popular entertainment, persisted at the turn of the century – and wrestling was perfect for it. The twists and turns of each broadcast, very often consumed on a communal basis, provided much fodder for the clichéd (but very real) ‘water cooler’ conversations on Tuesday mornings. In part because of the unifying power of television - as well as the presentation of the genre itself – wrestling fans could commonly be expected to follow other more ‘legitimate’ sports (and vice versa). A cursory glance at an old Nitro episode offers an archive of fans acting more like spectators at a sporting event, and less like critics judging a performance on its artistic merits.

For the television viewer, there existed something tangible about tuning in at the same exact time as millions of others, and – with nary a smartphone in sight – being entertained without distraction. Wrestling was at once both ephemeral and memorable, with as much attention focused on moments as the actual matches themselves. With the convergence of the analog and digital worlds not yet underway – at least, to any appreciable degree - attendance at shows meant an inability, by definition, to solicit reactions from those not in the physical environment. To that end, the importance of each turn, toehold and tap-out was heightened immensely.

Furthermore, it is likely no small coincidence that wrestling’s ascendance - alongside an enhanced public appetite for violence, sex and spectacle – occurred at a time of peace and prosperity. Increasingly throughout the 1990s - and particularly, as the ‘Year 2000’ grew ever closer, America enjoyed “so much good news,” remembered Kurt Anderson in The New York Times, “that each astounding achievement didn’t [even] register.”

“In America,” offered Tom Brokaw in contemporaneous comments, lamenting the soaring popularity of WWF and WCW, “people are so switched off of politics [right now]. Times are so good. We have the highest level of prosperity in our history - probably in the history of Western civilization - [so people] can be kind of disengaged from real things.”

Popular television, film and music offerings of the time were littered with futuristic allusions. A common marketing tactic, later to be parodied due to its omnipresence, was to attach the label of ‘2000’ to a supposedly improved product or service. But once the 2000’s actually arrived (with the new millennium technically beginning on January 1, 2001), the so-called ‘Long Nineties’ continued to march on unabated. Undergirding the look, feel and tenor of much of the cultural output was the following unspoken assumption: things can only get better.

Generalizations aside, that is hardly the sentiment today.

Ultimately, the ratings battle officially ended on March 26th, 2001, but for a while thereafter, the WWF continued to treat its programming with a noticeable sense of urgency - almost as if it remained in competition with the now-defunct WCW. Over time, however, its viewership began an almost metronomic decline. Bereft of true competition, attempts to manufacture versions of such were legion, culminating - after the short-lived WCW ‘invasion’ and later, a reboot of the nWo - in an artificial split of the WWF roster. Concurrently, the company attempted to stabilize following a series of dizzying blows - the departure of several top stars (including, most notably, ‘Stone Cold’ Steve Austin and The Rock), a forced rebranding as World Wrestling Entertainment, or WWE (the result of a legal loss to the World Wildlife Fund), and the eventual rise of mixed-martial arts (with the Ultimate Fighting Championship, or UFC, becoming the leading provider of pay-per-view television).

The great ‘90s epoch continued to cast a long shadow over the industry. It would soon become cliche for fans, promoters and wrestlers alike to ponder the ever-present conundrum: where did all ‘those people’ - the WCW fans - actually go?

In truth, many millions had simply moved on. In particular, those drawn to wrestling during the second half of the boom, when the onus to shock viewers became more prevalent, found - on the rapidly growing Internet - a seemingly endless source of new entertainment options. Whereas the WWF, in particular, once found success in bending the rules, relative to both modern sensibilities and convention, the virtual world developed as a relative free-for-all. For all of its hilarity and hijinks, after all, wrestling programs only ever went so far - an evident fact for those more into stunts over suplexes, carnage over chokeslams.

Gradually, in time, WWE began moving towards a more family-friendly format, and remarkably, the strategic shift to ‘The PG era’ would prove to be highly lucrative, with the company - weathering a steady decline to its mainstream relevancy, popularity and cultural appeal - going on to achieve a doubling of revenues between 2007 ($486 million) and 2020 ($974 million). Ironically, whereas rasslin’ had once been a tough sell for advertisers, the sanitized version of sports entertainment - benefiting from its status as live entertainment in an era of ‘cord-cutting’ - suddenly commanded astronomical rights fees from television networks (including close to $300 million per year for Monday Night Raw alone). Moreover, following the launch of the WWE Network (a subscription-based video-on-demand service) in 2014, the need to expand the fanbase diminished further.

Therefore, with regard to the current state of the professional wrestling industry, it is possible to highlight the following two truisms:

A) professional wrestling is today a more profitable enterprise than ever; and

B) professional wrestling is today less popular and/or culturally relevant than ever.

“I’ve often been asked,” stated former WCW President Eric Bischoff in his second autobiographical book, Grateful, “why there seems to be a seemingly insatiable appetite, on the part of the wrestling fan, for discussions about the mid-to-late ‘90s era of wrestling. There are two components at play, I think.

“First, wrestling fans – unlike fans of any other ‘sport’ or spectacle – are probably the most loyal fans in mainstream entertainment…secondly, if you think about those [fans]…they were likely somewhere around their teens (and therefore, were at their most impressionable) when the kind of wrestling that was being produced at that time took place. To them, it will never get better than it was at that time of their lives – no matter if somebody in wrestling develops a magic formula that completely transcends the industry, or even if everything was peaking from a creative point of view today. Those people are so loyal to that time period – there’s probably a symbiotic relationship between their loyalty and their age – that they just won’t be impressed as much as they were in their teens.

“…Between the fact that wrestling fans are so loyal, and the fact that their adolescence coincided with such an amazing period of time in pro wrestling – it had a profound impact on tens of millions of young people. They love listening to stories about that era - especially from the people who were instrumental in making it happen. In some respects, they’re reliving their childhood all over again.

“Furthermore, their kids now have the opportunity to become fans of that era, due to innovations like the WWE Network and now the content hosted on Peacock. There’s such a massive audience for content dissecting that time period, and so many of the key figures from that time are still active today. These factors amount to the ‘Monday Night Wars’ being remembered as being an even bigger deal than it actually was – and it was a big frickin’ deal!”

On one hand, it has long been considered a matter of faith: wrestling fans love nostalgia. The return of various legends to WWE’s Royal Rumble event is considered a yearly highlight. The use of archival footage serves, quite often, as a powerful means of furthering a white-hot feud. The promotion of an upcoming ‘retirement match’– while largely a contradiction in terms (who’s kidding who - there will always be one more match) – almost guarantees at least some uptick in business.

However, despite wrestling fans’ well-established affectation towards the past, the life-cycle of ‘Monday Night Wars’ nostalgia (no time in wrestling history has been dissected, discussed and debated more thoroughly) seemed to have reached its conclusion in 2014; specifically, upon the release of a titular WWE documentary series (itself a cornerstone of the company’s new streaming platform). It was a sentiment echoed by the content of Wrestlemania the following spring, with one match - Sting vs. HHH - functioning as a proxy for the competition all over again. “We saw the Monday Night Wars come to life,” stated John Bradshaw Layfield, famously, from the commentary booth - “and the right side won again.”

Subsequently, though, an unexpected dynamic occurred: nostalgia was born anew. A multi-year expansion in vintage wrestling podcasts - powered, in large part, by an overwhelming focus on its most iconic era - first began, and then continued relatively unabated (incredibly, some shows, including 83 Weeks, for example, have now persisted for longer than the entire WWF-WCW conflict). The recent announcement of a WCW-focused television event, set to run in 2024 - some 23 years (!) after WCW was sold to its competitor, lends further credence to that end. Most notable, perhaps, is the plight of All Elite Wrestling - an outfit which appears destined, regardless of its ultimate viability, to be judged on a scale not of its own making.

According to one viewpoint, at least, the allure of ‘90s-focused wrestling retrospectives should have declined by now - at least when considering, historically speaking, the way in which the industry treated its transition between eras. In the mid-to-late ‘90s, relatively few fans were looking wistfully at the ‘good old days’ of 1972; conversely, it could be argued that today, the nineties (and everything it symbolizes) remains a formidable incumbent; the measuring stick against which all is compared.

——

Part 5: Last Call

To coin a phrase, we had just gotten the go home; the bar was almost empty, and the conversation complete.

“Alright,” I said. “I appreciate the time - you’ve given me a whole lot to think about.”

“Well,” shrugged the old pro, gritting his teeth as we stepped outside, “just don’t attach me to this one. I’m too old for the pissants on tick-tack or whatever.”

“Of course,” I said, “so I guess we’ll do the book interview…next time?”

“Hey, what did I tell you,” he joked. “There is no ‘next’.”

“Nice,” I said. “That nostalgia line earlier was pretty good, too.”

A cab pulled up as we began to part ways.

“Goin’ uptown - my favorite place in the world,” said the ex-wrestler, pointing to the address on his room key.

“That’s downtown,” replied the driver. “Soho Grand.”

“Ah,” groused the veteran, gently knocking the side of his head.

“I guess nostalgia…just ain’t what it used to be.”