Breaking Holds: Episode Eighteen

Columns

Today’s Episode: For a Good Time…

Shockingly, I’m not going to talk about Wrestlemania very much today. It’s already been analyzed to death, and yes, I also thought that Shawn Michaels and the Undertaker put on the match of the night. That being said, I enjoyed the Hardys match, Ricky Steamboat made me remember why I loved the guy so much (and the fans chanting ‘You’ve still got it” at Raw last night made my heart sing), and Money in the Bank was fun.

By the way, was anyone else hoping that last night, after the WM All-Stars Tag Match, that CM Punk would smash the celebrating Cena in the back of the head five times with the briefcase, and then pin him right there for the title? You want to turn someone heel? There are worse ways to do it.

Anyway, that’s not what I wanted to talk about here. I’m actually going to be writing today about an event that’s over a year old, but something that I finally had the chance to watch in its entirety. I’m talking, oddly enough, about the Chikara King of Trios 2008.

I did not get to see the most recent incarnation of the event, which took place only about two weeks ago, but after having the entire three-night, six-disc series leant to me, Chikara gets something that a lot of the other companies try to accomplish but never quite seem to wrap their heads around. Really, it asks the question, “What is the point of professional wrestling? What is the purpose of men and women pretending to hate each other while inflicting sometimes serious bodily harm upon one another?”

People watch wrestling for a lot of reasons, or at least I do. I love seeing the crazy things that these people can do, things that I don’t believe I ever could, although with enough time and motivation, I suppose anything is possible. I also love the drama of getting connected to the characters, and while I have that smarkish tendency to cheer for heels, it is because I can recognize them as great heels. Case in point: Randy Orton, as a wrestler, has rarely thrilled me, but the character of Randy Orton has become 1000 times more fascinating in the past few months, and I can acknowledge that his acting and his mannerisms have made him a superb heel with deep and dark motivations. Additionally, I find myself rooting for characters and people that I enjoy or empathize with, such as how I was actively upset that Tammy Sytch and Molly Holly were essentially ignord in the Diva Battle Royal, or how I get behind CM Punk as someone showing kids that you can still be pretty cool without drinking or doing drugs.

Yet ultimately, we watch it for the same reasons we watch any form of entertainment: because it’s supposed to be fun.

Occassionaly, groups forget that. Sure, we’ll get funny things, such as Santina Marella, albeit at the expense of 24 other people, but we don’t always get the sheer fun that wrestling is supposed to provide to our otherwise mundane lives. Chikara gets that, and they do some wonderful things all in the name of simply giving the audience a good time.

Where else would a group like Las Chivas, a gang of soccer-playing goats (not really goats, but it’s a gimmick) get an opportunity, as one faints when scared, or, instead of dropkicking a prone opponent, simply land on their butt and snap a picture, confusing the adversary and drawing laughter from the crowd? What about guys like Player Uno who, although I’ve heard he’s dropped this, have a pause button on his pants that ACTUALLY PAUSES HIM, or allows Arik Cannon to plug a Nintendo64 controller into his back and actively control him? The crowd ate this stuff up, because they were there to have a good time, and the wrestlers simply give them what they want, which is what the larger companies are supposed to be doing anyway.

Chikara brings in WCW’s Glacier, and is hailed as a conquering hero. The One Man Gang shows up, and has a dance competition over who can best replicate the dance of “Akeem, the African Dream.” Chikara is wonderfully self-referential, and while not every match steals the show, it manages to be such a great time in terms of both comedy, storytelling, and honest-to-god good wrestling that nearly everyone leaves happy. Not just that, but nearly everything is appropriate for families, so a father can introduce his son or daughter to wrestling without being concerned that a diva is going to go out there wearing a cocktail napkin, and they’ll have to explain to their little one why all the girl wrestlers are dressed as whores.

So every time Kurt Angle takes himself way, WAY too seriously on TNA, or when you get tired of watching HHH scowl for 70 minutes, go on over to www.smartmarkvideo.com and order a Best of Chikara DVD. You might find yourself laughing and smiling at something that isn’t Santino Marella, and you’ll remember why you’re not completely ashamed to be a wrestling fan.

Ivan prides himself on being a wrestling fan that can tie both of his own shoes by himself, as well as having an analytic mind when it comes to the fake sport that he's loved ever since he watched Jake Roberts DDT Boris Zhukov on Prime Time Wrestling.