Ok. You can pull yourself up off the floor. Glen Gilbertti will not be facing Bryan Danielson anytime soon (as far as I know).
Iâm not referring to the uber-talented, super-gimmick juggernaut that IS The Disco Inferno. Iâm talking the music genre. âDisco Infernoâ by The Trammps, if you will.
Picture, if you will, the owner of, oh letâs, say Death Row Records. If you have been keeping up, Death Row Records has hit something of a bad patch of road (stay with me here). To save the company, the powers-that-be announce that, hence forth, Death Row Records will promote nothing but disco music. Forget hip-hop or gangster rap – nothing but disco and disco-based CDâs and downloads. Anita Ward, Amii Stewart, Lipps Inc., and Patrick Hernandez were already booked non-stop for LA.
How long before this company and the mood-ring challenged nerds that made this decision would be making breadsticks at an Olive Garden in Jersey. (Too soon?) I mean seriously. Ring of Honorâs Gabe Sapolsky hangs it up and is replaced by Adam Pearce (yes, THE Adam Pearce) who promptly announces that the company will begin promoting a more 1970’s style product.
Fantastic. The last time that particular mindset was tried was in early-90’s WCW when Ole Anderson took the book. His first decision? Fire Mick Foley for âexposing the businessâ in the ring. Sweet merciful crap, Ole! Vince had already exposed the business IN COURT! But, as Ole intonated, âit was 1973 all over again.â And it would have worked too if it hadnât been for those meddling kids (you know, the ones who didnât watch the television product in record numbers and showed up at arenas dressed as empty seats).
This dogfart of an idea that everything that worked in the 1970’s will work in two thousand farkinâ eight and beyond is mind numbing. Who really thinks that?! Whether you believe in evolution or not, you cannot deny evolution when it comes to culture and technology.
Look, Corey Silkin and Adam Pearce may be stand-up, honest guys, I have no idea. But let me bring both of you guys up to speed on some of this âold schoolâ stuff that has clogged your brains:
1. Wrestling was popular in the 1970’s and 1980’s not, repeat NOT, because of the booking but because there was nothing else to watch! At late as 1986, most cable line-ups had 75 channels or less (some FAR less). Wrestling had a niche audience that was loyal. They were loyal viewers and customers. First, most of those people are dead. Second, the ones that are left have moved on to something else. âMatlockâ marathons or canasta all-nighters at The Villages occupy their time. The wrestling fans that are now in their twenties grew up when wrestling was an entirely different sport than it was in the 1970’s or early 1980’s. In other words, your target market demographic knows more about Brutus Beefcake than Dory Funk Jr. (I just threw up in my mouth a little.)
2. The talent that is available to you cannot and/or will not work the 1970’s style. Oops. Let me take that back. Ox Baker is still taking bookings. Not only are you launching a mission to re-educate fans to accept a different style, you are going to have to re-educate your talent to work a different style. God knows they were not trained to work that way. Like everyone (or almost everyone) else trained since 1999, they were trained to go spot-spot-spot-spot-spot finish. Ask them to get heat, make a comeback or, God-forbid, call it in the ring, and you will get the same blank stare Beth Phoenix gives a urinalysis cup.
3. Finally, like incredibly narrow-market porn, you have successfully guaranteed your own demise by limiting your audience to an extent that you cannot make money if you sell everything you produce to every fan you have. Its called market research, boys. You donât create a product and then hope to find a market for it. You find a niche and fill it with a product you create. If you honestly believe there is a huge market for 1970’s wrestling performed by wrestlers born after Savage v. Steamboat, I wish you luck. Youâre going to need it.
Trust me, the American people are not, in any great numbers, clamoring for the return of 8-Track tapes, polyester gabardine slacks, Garanimals, The Hudson Brothers, Tang or The Sanford Townshend Band. Nor are they rising up with one voice demanding the product you are about to offer them.
There is no shame in closing up shop. None whatsoever. There is a helluva lot of shame in screaming incoherently while you are being forced into a straight jacket that you just KNEW a hair vs. hair match or a loser leaves town match or a lights out match would draw money on a national pay-per-view.
