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I usually hate bleacher reports because the people usually have no idea what they are talking about, this one happened to say just about everything that was on my mind after watching that incredibly weak final matchup at Summerslam last night.

 

At Summerslam, you might have thought that you saw a 6’5” Englishman tapping to a FAR inferior opponent in the main-event. You might have even thought you saw a far more athletic and agile South African crash and burn, and get pinned by, again, a FAR inferior opponent. However, in reality, what you saw was the hopes of countless fans, and their never-ending desire to see something original, get pinned underneath the over-inflated muscles of an imaginary superman. What you saw, was any semblance of an entertaining future within the WWE, tap out in that ring last night.

 

 

 

Oh, the corporate machine teased the throngs of fans it once sought to please. It paraded out an American Dragon, giving hope that, maybe, finally, somebody in the detached iron and steel of Titan Towers remembered. Maybe they remembered what it was like to give the fans what they wanted, instead of telling them what they wanted to see. With every technical move that, that Dragon performed, it seemed that with it, a new era in the WWE might be dawning.

 

 

 

But of course, that hope found inside of that Dragon was smashed. Smashed with a bright red briefcase, wielded by a WWE created drone; High on microphone ability, but mediocre on wrestling talent.

 

 

 

But, even as the light that was the American Dragon fizzled before the finish of that match, there was still hope for the winds of change to blow. Winds that hailed from the United Kingdom and The Motherland. Winds that with just one quick tap, with just 3 speedy beats of the hand of a man in a striped shirt, would indicate a breath of fresh air for those suffocating fans. Alas…what would tap would not be from the manufactured “marine” in the middle of that ring. But, the hopes of a fan base, long forgotten, as once again, a putrid version of Superman appeared, reviled and detested by those who have grown beyond puberty, rose to the occasion. Yes, once again, John Cena, overcame all odds, and defeated the Leader of the Nexus and the most athletic henchman he had, in Justin Gabriel.

 

 

 

How fitting, that after the winds of change were stymied in Los Angeles, before the last fan could even hang their head in disappointment, the WWE Universe was already being granted the “honor” of purchasing the newest John Cena T-shirt.

 

 

 

And with the pushing of that gaudy apparel, and the destruction of an angle that made us all hope again, the reality of what the WWE has become, smacked us all in the face: It’s no longer about what the fans want. It’s about merchandise. It’s about DVD’s, T-shirts, posters and Slurpee straws. It’s about John Cena working with Danny Glover, as if he were still relevant in Hollywood. It’s about getting mothers and fathers to peel open their wallets and pay for little Johnny to sport around those florescent colored T-shirts that are a reminder of both what we have lost as fans, and what we are left with.

 

 

 

Should we blame Linda McMahon and her political aspirations? Should we blame Vince McMahon and his seemingly increasing booking senility? Should we blame the PTC? Or, should we blame Chris Benoit? Maybe we should blame them all. Who was it that stole wrestling from us? What was it that made them decide that emasculating John Cena from his once entertaining, hip-hop, rebel persona, and foisting him upon a throne that millions never wanted him to attain, was the right decision?

 

 

 

Even if we do discover the answer, will it change anything? Will it make them remember that once upon a time, the WWE used to be the WWF? Controversial? Yes. But, wildly more popular and entertaining than the WWE. No, the kids wouldn’t be packing out arenas back then. It would be adults. But then again, back then, they didn’t have to tarp off sections of arenas and lie to the viewers saying they were sold out. Back then, it didn’t matter who hated the WWF. Because 1 in 15 Americans watched it every week.

 

 

 

But now? Not even a fraction remains. Only the most deluded and loyal of fans from those days remain. The majority of fans left aren’t even old enough to remember how amazing the WWF used to be. Back when it remembered to give us what we wanted to see. Not what they thought we should be seeing. Sadly, the majority of these children in the arenas don’t know they just saw the death of something that resembled the biggest boom this dying industry had ever seen, only as distant as 14 years ago. They don't know how close they came to possibly reliving the greatness of that era.

 

 

 

But then again, would this current regime even understand how to recreate the magic of the 1996 invasion of World Championship Wrestling? Doubtful. The ineptitude of this creative team is only rivaled by their greed in peddling Cena merchandise. Never once remembering that once upon a time, one main-eventer of an entire crop, could outsell Cena in a year. And that’s taking in consideration Cena’s ENTIRE career in the marketplace. They have forgotten the selling power of Austin, Rock, Mankind, DX and others. Even the New Age Outlaws possibly outsold Cena back when the WWF gave us reasons to want to have their merchandise.

 

 

 

The frightening thing, is even as they have watched their arena numbers dwindle, even as they have watched their PPV buyrates drop, even as they have watched their Nielson ratings plummet from 12 to 3 points, they have never once remembered. They have still forgotten what made this business great: Giving us what we want. Entertaining us, enthralling us, captivating us. But they just don’t remember, anymore.

 

 

 

And so we sit and we bemoan the fall of the Nexus to Super-Cena. One man, mistaken for the boon of this industry, that is actually its cancer; The man who was called by Chris Jericho a danger as grave to the WWE as the Nexus. And as much as the Nexus being a danger to the WWE is in kayfabe, John Cena has been in real life. And yet, he succeeds month after month and we watch as our glimmer of hope, for anything new, anything fresh, goes down the drain.

 

 

 

Some contemplate “crossing the line” to TNA. Others swear off of wrestling completely. But, we’ll always come back. Always remembering, even if it was ever so fleeting, the memory of men like the Rock. Reminiscing on Stone Cold. Thinking fondly even on the days of the Radicalz. We’ll tell ourselves, “It’s not so much that I want to see the same thing done over, I just want to be entertained.” Knowing, that we’d rather see the same thing done over and over again, than to be forced to watch the Tyrant-Hero, John Cena, squash every hope and dream we have of seeing wrestling return to prominence.

 

 

 

We’ll still be here. Watching. Waiting. Hoping…that one day, somebody in Connecticut will remember. And somebody can make our dream to see the winds of change, stop tapping to a FAR inferior opponent.

 

 

 

Until then, it’s just business as usual. Be sure to stop by WWEshop.com and pick up that new Cena t-shirt. What you do with afterwards? Totally up to you.

 

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I've stated plenty of times that wrestling is the worst it has ever been. From time to time, I pass it running through the channels, and I'll watch 5-10 minutes. Can't stand it. Later, I'll go back and watch the last 10 minutes of the show...and it's just garbage.

 

I haven't watched wrestling, religiously, in nearly a decade. I'm sure it's still entertaining to a lot of viewers, but nothing touches what the WWF and WCW had a decade or two ago.

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