Lords Of The Ring

By James Collins/Stamford

What kind of programming do you identify with cable television? Probably shows like Larry King Live on CNN and Nick at Nite's reruns of Bewitched, or Biography on A&E and maybe those documentaries about Adolf Hitler that the History Channel always seems to carry (this week's is a classic: Hitler and the Occult). These offerings may seem emblematic of cable, but if you think they represent its most popular shows, you are very wrong. Cable TV's true signature is not a conversation between Larry King and Trent Lott; it is a Hell in a Cell bout between Stone Cold Steve Austin and his archrival Kane.

Remember professional wrestling? That phenomenon of the 1980s you thought disappeared along with wine coolers? It is back, it is booming, and it is by far the most highly rated form of programming on cable. Last week, for example, wrestling shows were ranked 1, 2 and 3. On Monday nights, the two rival wrestling organizations--the World Wrestling Federation and World Championship Wrestling--have shows on at the same time, the former on the USA Network, the latter on TNT. In the past year, the shows' combined Nielsen ratings have risen some 50%, and together they are watched in more than 6 million households. Larry King's audience is about a fifth that size. Taking all telecasts into account, about 34 million people watch wrestling each week.

Meanwhile, live wrestling events are sold out night after night; pay-per-view revenues and sales of merchandise (toys, video games, hats, tank tops, temporary tattoos, backpacks, beach towels, hot sauces, Halloween costumes) are well over a billion dollars; and celebrities are beginning to make cameo appearances. In July, for example, Karl Malone and Dennis Rodman, lately of the NBA finals, will do battle as members of opposing tag teams in a WCW match. There is even a plan for a chain of WCW theme restaurants, the first of which will open this September in Las Vegas.

Looking at what goes on in the ring, it's hard to see why all this is happening, since wrestling doesn't seem very different from what it always was: men with very large muscles pretend to sock each other while stamping a foot on the canvas to make a loud noise. But wrestling has changed. No one claims anymore that the bouts are legitimate; indeed, to reassure families that they will not see real violence, the promoters now emphasize that wrestling is staged. Then there is the change in the characters and story lines developed for wrestlers. In the past few years, these have become darker and more elaborate, and that largely accounts for the new-found popularity.

In the old days there was a fairly simple distinction to be made between the good guys, or "baby faces" in the carny lingo of wrestling, and bad guys, or "heels." Now no one is reliably good. The emphasis is all on rebellion and arrogance, black leather and shades. At the same time, the narratives in wrestling have become more complicated than Icelandic epics. The plots involve different factions of wrestlers in each organization who are trying to dominate the others, amid constant betrayals. "We're storytellers," says Vince McMahon, owner of the WWF. "You can't just throw wrestlers out there to wrestle. That's not what an audience wants to see."

The wrestler causing the most excitement right now is Stone Cold Steve Austin, 33, of the WWF. Sitting backstage at an event in Austin, Texas--his birthplace--Austin, who earns an estimated $2 million a year, spat tobacco juice into a Pepsi can while he talked about the development of his character. A couple of years ago, when he was known as the Ringmaster and fans were not much responding to him, he watched an HBO special on serial killers and got inspired: "I came up with the basic idea for the character. You know, someone who really didn't give a damn about what was going on. Not that I'm endorsing a serial killer--it was an attitude thing."

In the past 18 months, McMahon has added much more "colorful language" and "sign language," as he puts it, to the WWF events. The WWF even sells oversize foam hands with the middle finger pointing up. WCW avoids that kind of overt vulgarity, but it still strives for attitude. The organization's biggest star is Hollywood Hulk Hogan (formerly just Hulk Hogan), who made millions as a superhero good guy in the WWF during wrestling's previous surge. After leaving the game for a few years to do movies and television in the early 1990s, Hogan, now 44, joined WCW. He reportedly earns $5 million a year these days, but to stay popular he has had to change his character radically. "Now I'm the worst bad guy around," he says. "I can't win a match unless I cheat. And people love me."

The WWF and WCW are bitter antagonists. McMahon bought his company from his father in 1982, and with Andre the Giant and Hogan he lifted wrestling to a whole new level of popularity. WCW was created in 1988 by Ted Turner, who founded TNT and TBS, which also carries a WCW program. (Turner is the vice chairman of TIME's parent company.) McMahon complains, among much else, that because of his deep pockets, Turner was able to lure away the WWF's best talent. Talking to TIME, McMahon said, "Here's some sign language for Ted Turner," and made the appropriate gesture. A WCW spokesman says the company does not comment on McMahon. The WWF is suing WCW for misleading the public about the allegiance of two wrestlers; the WWF is charging trademark infringement, defamation and slander. Last month WCW responded with a countersuit, charging the WWF with trademark infringement and malicious business practices.

In fact the rivalry has of late helped both sides. When Turner created WCW's Monday Nitro nearly three years ago, he invaded a time period that had been occupied by the WWF's Raw is War for years. Result: the ratings for both shows went up, with a commensurate increase in ad revenues. "We created controversy," says Eric Bischoff, president of WCW. "We forced the competition to produce a better product. And we have to keep producing better product."

All this success is nice for McMahon and Turner, but what about Western civilization? The biggest concern is the popularity of pro wrestling among children. McMahon has a point when he says that wrestling is less violent and sexually suggestive than much of pop culture; still, it is jarring to go to a wrestling event and see boys so young that they must be taken to the men's room by their fathers. Another worry is the use of drugs. Steroids aren't as prevalent as they once were, but the abuse of painkillers has become a problem. WCW says it administers both regular and random drug tests. McMahon says the WWF used to test extensively, but that became too costly, so it now tests only when there are signs of abuse.

As for the key aesthetic question, Is pro wrestling fun to watch? The answer is: Not really. It can evince the rude, flimflam energy of its carnival origins, but as a form of pulp culture, wrestling has far less imagination than a decent horror movie or comic book. If you're desperate for mock terror on Monday nights, stick with Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

--With reporting by Hilary Hylton/Austin and William Tynan/New York

With reporting by Hilary Hylton/Austin and William Tynan/New York