SAY HELLO TO THE BAD GUYS

Fake fights, real cultural impact.

Pro wrestling is “a simulated sport”—and an art form with an influence on matters of global consequence, Raimondi writes. The ESPN reporter focuses on the 1990s rivalry between the industry-leading World Wrestling Federation (now World Wrestling Entertainment) and World Championship Wrestling, a regional outfit seeking more fans. His key figure is Hulk Hogan, a beloved former WWF champion who joined WCW in 1994 and later staged a “heel turn,” portraying a villain in the New World Order, a group of wrestlers purportedly at war with WCW corporate brass. As orchestrated by WCW executive Eric Bischoff, the NWO expanded pro wrestling’s canvas, staging parking lot brawls and road-rage incidents meant to “manipulate people into thinking certain things they are seeing are indeed real, even if wrestling itself is not.” NWO wrestlers staged scripted attacks on Bischoff and “babyfaces”—the industry term for fan favorites—and spray-painted the group’s initials on vanquished foes. WCW’s TV ratings, ticket sales, and pay-per-view buys hit new highs before the storyline foundered and WWF bought WCW in 2001. To Raimondi, the WCW broke new ground, demonstrating how to “manipulate the masses” by playing with the boundary between fiction and truth. More broadly, pro wrestling helped clear a path for Donald Trump, who appeared in wrestling performances, has threatened political adversaries, and appointed a wrestling promoter to his cabinet. Raimondi’s thesis makes sense in a limited way, though blending fact and fiction is as old as storytelling itself. His overarching idea is that wrestling’s fakeness shouldn’t prevent it from being taken seriously. Like any “art,” he contends, its top practitioners’ work make a lasting impact. Readers who agree will enjoy his many blow-by-blow accounts of in-the-ring matches and backstage scuffles.

Gamely grappling with a pseudo-sport’s social and political reverberations.