A lifelong WWE fan, I attended the show with my wife and 7-year-old son.
This was the first time any of us had attended a live event since the pandemic began.
It was my son’s first WWE live event ever.
And the visceral feeling, of cheering and booing shoulder-to-shoulder with thousands of people, was a joyful one.
Television optimizes everyone–camera angles, editing, and lighting make everyone look their best.
But experiencing wrestling live?
The cream rises to the top.
The aura surrounding Roman Reigns, in particular, is riveting.
His face is the first one you see in the official program when you open it up.
Then WWE kept teasing his arrival throughout the show.
It’s all designed to build suspense:
“He’s coming!
He’s in the car!
He’s in the hallway!
He’s heading to the ring!”
So when that final boss music blared over the loudspeakers, the arena came unglued.
The entire audience seemed to instinctively rise to its feet and lean in.
when he finally appeared on the ramp.
Instead, WWE treats the live audience to a bonus segment or match.
Plus, he’s got that RKO.
Everyone loves the RKO.
Being inside for over a year is a muted, domestic ordeal.
The pyro was deafening as opposed to loud.
The bass in the entrance music pounded in my gut.
The lights were blinding.
Everything felt over-the-top, which, in the world of professional wrestling, is the entire point.
As for my son, he had a great time.
Once, over a century ago, this was a legitimate sport.
Then, it became a fixed sport that targeted marks for money.
But the audience doesn’t always cooperate.
But on March 25, nearly everyone in the crowd played their role.
It’s the urgency of a live event–of sharing a cultural moment in real-time.
You don’t know what you have until it’s gone.
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