WWE Live Manila
Watching your superheroes up close
Ah, wrestling, where overgrown men wearing tights (I called them briefs when I was little, and I still call them as such now that I’m an overgrown man), throw each other to a padded ring, throw fake punches, and throw basically anything.
It is the sport we first loved watching and even though it’s fake we still love the heck out of it.
And that unbridled love was in full swing when the Word Wrestling Entertainment — then known as the World Wrestling Federation for you young bloods — when thousands of red-blooded males shrieked like little 12-year-old girls who just saw Justin Bieber for the first time in their young lives.
I was fortunate enough to get floor seats for WWE Live Manila and I have to say, that was the best thing that has ever happened to me inside Mall of Asia Arena. Fuck that I can go there for free during PBA, UAAP, and NCAA games. This was the WWE. The World Wrestling fucking Entertainment. That sounded bad, but so do you.
I’m now in my 20s, and I have to say there was a time in my teenage years that I totally forgot about wrestling, well because the local channels stopped releasing the shows and when I got to college we didn’t have cable in that small apartment of ours.
Screw that I was bigger than most of the spectators, I was there on the concrete floor of MOA Arena chanting my lungs out.
There are some wrestlers that I haven’t watched for too long, like Braun Strowman (who I kept asking my seatmate how to spell that damn name of his), Curtis Axel, Neville, but there were guys whom I watched growing up.
Goldust, for example, spooked the 6-year-old me every time he walked down the ramp. Good thing Terri Runnels was with him to calm my nerves. Then there was the Big Show who is the biggest motherfucker I’ve seen in my life. I remember when he was still called The Giant back in WCW where he was executing moonsaults off the top rope like he was making his favorite breakfast.
John Cena, who wore green and white trunks when I watched him debut in Kurt Angle’s invitational, was just phenomenal. The ultimate showman that he is, he has the right to wear short denim shorts. I always believe that no self-respecting male human being should ever wear short denim shorts, except him and Stone Cold Steve Austin. Because you should never piss off someone who can put you on your shoulders and throw you like the piece of crap that you are.
He faced Big Show in the card and when the World’s Largest Athlete snapped the second rope during their match, the leader of the CeNation improvised like it’s all part of the show.
Then there was Chris motherfucking Jericho. The WWE’s first ever Undisputed Champion. Back when he had that long blonde hair and he still wore pants, his entrance was just the absolute best. The WWF Championship on his one hand, and the WCW Championship on the other. Stephanie McMahon behind him looking freaking gorgeous.Jericho’s hair has gotten shorter now, and he now wears briefs, but when he heard one fan calling him “gago” he took it like the smooth bastard that he is.
“You’re calling me gago, and that must mean it’s a good thing. Well then I’m the biggest gago you’ve ever seen,” Jericho said to the delight of the crowd.
He said “the Philippines stinks and Manila is the anus” which is a bitter pill to swallow, but he pulled it off flawlessly and not even the crowd’s “Duterte” chants scared him.
I’m not going to give you all the details of what transpired back in Sept. 9, there are news sites that you can read for that. This is my personal thought, a 24-year-old man who enjoys fake fighting.
Yes it’s fake, but so is ‘Game of Thrones,’ ‘Breaking Bad,’ ‘Suits,’ and ‘Stranger Things.’
Did I hurt your feelings? Fuck you.
Wrestling will always be wrestling, you can call this era different from the Attitude Era where blood always split every week and women’s clothes looked always smaller than before. There is no question, the WWE is one entertaining son of a bitch, and that bitch is Vincent Kennedy McMahon.
Vince McMahon created this empire, an empire we’re lucky to live in without paying a monthly rent. He built this on the backs of Bob Backlund, Arn Anderson, Jimmy Snuka, Hulk Hogan, Ultimate Warrior, Bret Hart, Shawn Michaels, Stone Cold Steve Austin, The Rock, Triple H, The Undertaker, John Cena, and so many others.
These guys in trunks, tights, and boots, were our superheroes. These were real people having alter egos, unlike other athletes who are just themselves.
Dwayne Johnson will always be The Rock. Terry Bolea will always be Hulk Hogan. Paul Levesque will always be Triple H.
These guys didn’t wear capes, didn’t wear their underwear over their shorts, didn’t fly, didn’t save a damsel in distress. They were real people, just like us.
Well, just bigger.
