By Brandon Lee, contributor
You hear the key… and another one… and another one. The anticipation is building, nerves are wracking, and as if on cue, the trumpets hit and the whole arena goes bonkers.
“It’s John Cena!,” shouted a kid clad in the superstar’s gear as the deafening mix of cheers and boos envelop the crowd.
It’s not the unexpected meme of him popping out of nowhere — this is the real life. The face that runs the place just blew the roof off Mall of Asia Arena!
Cena comes out the stage as the trumpets continue to honk his already iconic melody. Antagonistic adolescents sing along and shower the 15-time world champion, “John Cena sucks!” in the tune of his entrance.
Soaking in the noise, he salutes the crowd and rushes toward the ring. He smiles, just like he did in Brooklyn three weeks before, or in London two days prior, the same way he will in Shanghai the next day.
Who would have thought this guy, a muscle-bound bodybuilder from Massachusetts, will be one of the most iconic persons of this millennium?
From a beanpole blue-chipper in his first televised match against an Olympic hero like Kurt Angle, here he is — in the flesh — as one of the biggest crossover stars of his promotion.
Manila just got its own dose of John Cena.
As a wrestling fan, I can’t help but be enamored with the way this man gets accepted in every arena he enters. There’s truly nothing quite like a John Cena entrance. Wrestling commentators bill him as one of the most polarizing stars of the company, and he truly is, getting the biggest pop, fan reaction in wrestling parlance, every night in every show he’s in. It doesn’t matter if it’s in the main event or for the company’s biggest prize, or in Manila’s case, dead in the center as the fourth match on the card.
“The face that runs the place” is the one that brings fans to the arena and makes them stand from their seats. And the noise was just electric. It’s a strange mix of cheers and boos like no other.
As he prepares for this duel with 7-foot giant Big Show, there’s a palpable sense of excitement. Kids wearing John Cena merchandise boosted in favor of their hero, cheering, “Let’s go, Cena!”
Meanwhile, for older guys like me who in a way found it cooler to counter the younger sector, we replied, “Cena sucks!” And it went on and on and on as the match goes.
It’s the magic of pro wrestling, whether you’re for the good guy or you’re for the bad guy. But Cena is in a league of his own.
Portraying a good guy for so long, some fans have taken offense at what they felt was Cena’s vanilla character: he of the superhero-like qualities, who can do no bad, who will save the day. And maybe, his appeal to the casual fans of today, that polarizing character who illicits contrasting reactions whenever he gets the spotlight.
As a fan, you have to choose between, “Let’s go, Cena!” or “Cena sucks!” You can’t go silent; you just have to.
Minutes later, the middle rope snapped, shocking the whole crowd as the two wrestlers had to cut the match short.
Cena proceeds to put Show into four of his infamous “Five Moves of Doom”: shoulder blocks, a spin-out power bomb, a Five-Knuckle Shuffle, and an Attitude Adjustment.
One… Two… Three.
Weirdly, the dissenting chants cheered in unison as soon as the ring bells. Match ends, Cena wins, his music hits again as he celebrates with the crowd.
He walks to the stage, hoists his three fingers in the air as the fans clapped and cheered some more. No matter how fans feel about him, at the end of the day, he smiles knowing that he did his job.
It’s just another day in the life of John Cena.
