Why the WWE Booking Model is Bad for Business

 

The date – August 20, 2012.

It’s your typical Raw taping, a little dull if anything else. In the ring, a filler match to kill a little time before a planned feud-furthering showdown between Dolph Ziggler and Chris Jericho (remember when the WWE still cared about Dolph? I know, it seems like forever ago). It’s a Divas Battle Royal to determine the new #1 Contender to the Divas Title, held at that time by Layla El. Layla is doing color commentary as the final two Divas scrap in the ring: Kaitlyn and Eve Torres.

BattleRoyal1

Prepare to forget all about Pillman/Liger!

Eve Torres had been getting a bit of a push at the time, and it was inevitable that she’d win the match to face the Divas Champion. Despite being in a mini-feud with Kaitlyn, her being there was merely a formality. This was long before Kaitlyn’s Divas Championship reign, back when she was basically a female jobber with no push. Think Brooklyn Brawler, but with nicer boobs.

Or on second thought, don't.

Or on second thought, don’t.

The spot is set up. Eve’s going to pick Kaitlyn up in a Fireman’s Carry and carry her over to the top rope. Kaitlyn will struggle and eventually wriggle free, then she’ll hit Eve with a clothesline over the top rope. Eve will land on the apron instead, while Kaitlyn will turn to think she won. Eve will sneak back in the ring and eliminate Kaitlyn to win the match. Seems pretty simple and straightforward, right? Things couldn’t have gone more wrong.

Instead of landing on the apron, Eve fell to the floor instead. Referee Charles Robinson calls for the bell and Kaitlyn is the new #1 Contender.

Derp

Derp

If the term “deer in the headlights” were to be listed in a pro wrestling dictionary, the reaction of those involved would have been the illustration. Instead of working on the fly like she should have, climbing the ropes in celebration or pumping her fist or at the very least waving to the crowd, she just stands there covering her mouth with this “Omigod Omigod Omigod!” expression.

"Oh my God, did I remember to unplug the iron??"

“Oh my God, did I remember to unplug the iron??”

The camera pans to Layla at ringside, who first looks like she just took a big whiff of a Taco Bell fart, then her jaw drops to the floor when the gears finally turn, realizing that the finish just got botched in a major way.

Either that, or she just became self-aware.

Either that, or she just became self-aware.

Referee Brad Maddox (HA! Remember THAT?!) whispers something to Kaitlyn as he raises her hand. No doubt Vince was in his earpiece telling him to “Make that stupid girl celebrate!”, and no doubt punctuating it with some four-letter words and uses of the Lord’s name in vein. It’s only then does she crack a half-hearted smile.

Pictured: Sweet, sweet victory

Pictured: Sweet, sweet victory

Eve finally rises off the ground, her cheek slightly bloody and a little dazed, with a look on her face as if she saw her push fall off the side of a cliff.

She's also trying to remember which Gracie she's banging.

She’s also trying to remember which Gracie she’s banging.

“Well that was a shocker!” Michael Cole chortled, proving once again why people seem to love his play-by-play prowess. But little did Cole realize that he just perfectly encapsulated this entire series of unfortunate events.

And it didn’t have to be that way.

When I talk about the old “Territory” days of United States wrestling, I’m usually met with eye rolls or snide remarks from today’s younger wrestling fans. I’m often accused of being too old fashioned, or behind in the times. For those growing up in the Xbox generation, I may as well be talking about dinosaurs or the Roman Empire.

No, not THAT Roman Empire! Seriously, crack open a book sometime!

No, not THAT Roman Empire! Seriously, crack open a book sometime!

They don’t realize that I’m not simply waxing lyrical about days gone by, but rather trying to explain that the wrestling industry as a whole could learn a valuable lesson from those days.

See, back before the WWE became the global money-making machine it is today, there was no national wrestling promotion. Rather, the industry was split up into territories, most falling under the banner of the National Wrestling Alliance, or the NWA as it was more commonly called.

These territories worked separately from one another, none encroaching into another territories area of business. They may have been separate entities, but they all traded in the same commodity: pro wrestlers. The guys down in Florida want to book Bruiser Brody in a series of matches with Dusty Rhodes? No problem. Eddie Graham, the promoter in Florida, gets on the phone to Fritz Von Erich, the promoter in Texas, and asks to use Brody on his shows. Fritz gives his OK, and in return asks to use Kevin Sullivan for a while.

Both Eddie Graham and Fritz Von Erich get new acts to use on their shows to sell more tickets, and Brody and Sullivan get to make money in an entirely new market. Everyone wins.

Except Jimmy Garvin. Screw that guy.

Except Jimmy Garvin. Screw that guy.

It wasn’t just the trading aspect that made the territories so important, the biggest advantage the territory era had was the chance for young, inexperienced wrestlers to get real-world experience.

A rookie wrestler starts out in one territory, mostly doing jobs to the bigger, more experienced stars of the promotion, learning how to work and move in the ring. He learns the psychology of a match and how to react to certain situations that arise. He does that for a while, a couple months to a year or so, and then moves on to a new territory where no-one has seen him. And each time he moves, he’s getting better in the ring, learning from the veterans and applying it to his craft.

There was no toiling away in “developmental” for these guys. They were getting real experience from guys who knew what they were doing. These days, who are the rookies in NXT wrestling every week? Other rookies. How are you supposed to learn your craft when your opponent is as clueless as you are?

Back in the 80’s, during the final days of the territories, the number of truly “great” wrestlers was astounding. Even the guys jerking the curtains were super talented.

Today, you can count the really talented wrestlers on the national American scene on your hands. The ones you’re probably counting as talented, are guys like Daniel Bryan, CM Punk, AJ Styles, Samoa Joe et al. They didn’t learn from any “developmental” league. They learned on the independent scene – the closest thing to the territories that exists today.

So, had Kaitlyn, Eve or Layla been properly trained in the art of wrestling, learning in the ring against veterans and not languishing in some sort of pretend “developmental” league, the whole thing wouldn’t have looked like a bunch of kids in a sixth grade school play forgetting their lines.

Ironically enough, all these kids can work a better match than The Miz

Ironically enough, all these kids can work a better match than The Miz

Layla would have known to immediately jump up and cheer for Kaitlyn, as a face would do if a fellow good guy (or gal, as it were) just won a huge match. Kaitlyn would have known to raise her fists in victory and celebrate what appeared to be a shock upset on television. It’s also worth noting that the only person involved in the match who really seemed to know what they were doing was Charles Robinson, a guy who had learned his craft through experience.

Or absorbed it through osmosis from one of Ric Flair's robes

Or absorbed it through osmosis from one of Ric Flair’s robes

So the next time someone calls you an old fogey for wanting a return to the territorial days, just remember how much better today’s product would be if the people involved knew what they were doing. Just imagine if guys like Ryback, or The Miz, could actually wrestle a decent match and tell a good story in the ring. Well, those two are kinda pushing it, but you get my drift.

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