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The story is so compelling and the writing so smooth that I can’t say enough about the book, its content and its voice.
The WCW Nitro era was, by any perspective, a great story, and the team of Reynolds and Alverez do an excellent job of retelling it.
Reynolds is famous for his WrestleCrap.com site and his book, WrestleCrap: The Very Worst of Pro Wrestling. Of course, much of the downward spiral of WCW can only be described in that phrase -- “The Very Worst of Pro Wrestling.”
Alverez continues to produce the Figure Four Weekly newsletter, and cohosts the Wrestling Observer Live radio show, and does much for this web site -- www.wrestlingobserver.com, if you have to ask..
The combination has the background, insight and ability to analyze the realities of WCW and the avenues by which it self-destructed from heights of success and money making. If you’ve forgotten the legacy of WCW and the craziness that propelled it from WWE beater to doormat, this is a great way to understand its demise.
Or you can start watching TNA.
The running theme of WCW’s demise is one that is well known to modern fans, and hasn’t seemed to disappear despite the obvious and documented results. Simply put, and anyway you want to look at the history of professional wrestling, when the promotion fails to connect with the fans, and fails to please the ticket paying, PPV ordering and merchandise buying fan base, then that promotion is doomed.
With WCW, the backing of major TV and Cable networks (and the rich history and favoritism of Ted Turner on TBS/TNT) prolonged the life span of the promotion. With enough business acumen, the cyclical nature of pro wrestling would have been expected to kick in, allowing for a down period before picking up again.
But with WCW, that very promise of permanency seemed to be a curse more than a blessing.
Far too many of the major players simply expected and assumed that wrestling would never die. Those sorts of assumptions were proven fatal for a major portion of the industry. At its height, WCW employed some 260 people. At its height, the sale price of WCW was expected to be $500 million. Some time shortly before that, it was regularly beating the then WWF in a ratings war. WCW had under contract every important name in the business in the 1990’s (not named McMahon) and it featured on a weekly basis the biggest matches possible.
Of course, with all the records set on the way up, it only positioned itself to set new records on the way down. And this book clearly describes that fall.
Overkill seems to be the most basic term to use. That, plus the egos of four notable names: Eric Bischoff, Vince Russo, Hulk Hogan and Kevin Nash. The overwhelming evidence of the mismanagement, the under production of the booking schemes, the stubborn indifference of its top star, and the impossible to understand politicking of another influential star are interwoven in the tragedy that was WCW.
Underlying the facts and figures of WCW are some contradictions: The realitiy of WCW’s winning the ratings battles wasn’t quite meteoric, nor was it all that dominant. Nor was the WWF’s reclamation of top status so dominant until the oft heard Vince Russo departed that company for WCW. Strange how Russonian reality always turns facts on their head!
Nor is it completely fair to say that WCW stayed too pat on the top. WCW actually did allow Goldberg to rise to the top, and then cut his legs off. WCW actually created an atmosphere where the likes of Chris Jericho was able to attract impressive attention -- and then they cut his legs off. WCW actually kept trying to kill Ric Flair, but could never put the stake in his heart -- they just kept cutting his legs off. WCW actually presented a stage where Luchadores and Japanese talents and some of “extreme” and groundbreaking concepts and stars of ECW got their first true national stage to shine on.
But then they cut their legs off as well.
ECW seems to get a short stick in the story, as overlooked in the rise and fall of WCW is the acquisitions of several “major” pieces of talent, including Benoit and Malenko and Eddie Guererro, including Raven and Public Enemy, including Rey Mysterio Jr and Juventud Guererra, including some lesser names and some really painful losses to the hardcore promotion’s rabid fan base (Perry Saturn, Shane Douglas, Big Al (formerly 911) and others.)
The funny thing to me is that WCW’s inability to capture the essence of ECW’s promotion and talent, but simply steal some of its storylines, seems an apropos indication of why they couldn’t reinvent themselves.
The WWF, on the other hand, got it. They stole the “attitude” and the hardcore wrestling, and incorporated it enough to build momentum and then created the atmosphere where Steve Austin caught the attention of the fans, and Vince McMahon joined the mix.
But that’s another story.
While the facts and figures are sprayed across every page of this book, another weakness is the avoidance of charting, graphing or comparing numbers. Also, a timeline would have been a great addition. Just like the stories behind WCW were compelling, the numbers also told the story. Again, the numbers are there, but not readily digested.
Then too, the stories of the “big four” of WCW’s demise are there, but not there. They remain a major part of the morass, but I don't think they get singled out quite enough for their contributions -- sure the stories are there, but this isn't an inside job or in-depth telling of the story.
The book is an analysis piece, and as that, it’s great and a great read. I spent four days on it, reading from cover to cover, and the story is so compelling and the writing so smooth that I can’t say enough about the book, its content and its voice.
What the book isn’t is an in-depth look at the behind the scenes happenings and anything more than a superficial analysis of the company and its product. Good or bad, fair or not, that’s the reality of “The Death of WCW.”
There really needs to be stand alone chapters for Bischoff, Russo, Hogan and Nash.
Few others had “real” power, influence or detrimental affect upon the promotion, not the suits from Turner, not the bulk of the talent, and really not any other booker (although Kevin Sullivan deserves quite a footnote for the Radicals.)
Eric Bischoff deserves the credit for building WCW to stellar heights. Unfortunately, and the reality of this seems to fall through the cracks of the book, he created a foundation -- or lack thereof -- of disdain for management, talent and long term direction.
Sure, Bischoff brought in the invasion concept and did it right, and did it spectacularly.
But he lost control of his troops, and permitted Hogan and others to write their own rules and influence hiring and establish the precedence of saying no. Bischoff was the “ATM” because he was money, but he was obviously unable to manage his success, and if you cannot manage your success (and your people) at the peak of making money, there’s no way you can regain control, instill discipline or hope for the best when it is on the downslide.
Vince Russo came in as a golden boy, but he also came in with a gloating disdain for the fundamentals of pro wrestling.
In a company already reeling because of a disconnect with its fans, the hiring of Russo completely severed the ties.
WCW was built upon the southern tier of fundamental professional wrestling. It sought realism, wrestling skill and good fights. The upswing of WCW provided that. It was all about big name matches and match ups, it featured some really great feuds, and in the early build up of the nWo, there was a great and acceptable heel faction seemingly balanced by WCW home talent.
All was good.
But before Russo, it was already downhill.
The nWo was, with little doubt, the greatest faction in pro wrestling. It was cooler than the Four Horsemen, and it was also vastly more powerful. But heels who are cool and powerful seem to rapidly play out their hand.
Sting became the counterbalance, and that was still reasonable, but once the nWo seized up every viable opponent -- much like the bully kids on the playground pick the best so they will always win and never lose -- once that happened WCW was no more.
Nothing more to back, nothing more to follow.
WCW killed itself and killed off its foundational fan base. Once you’ve lost them, who do you have?
I continue to wonder if the ratings successes of the cable wars was simply a trick of numbers, or more likely, the draw of real competition. But all competition demands a winner and a loser, and once the battle was becoming obvious and the momentum shifted, what worse decision could be made than to declare a loss.
Taking Vince Russo away from the WWF was that declaration.
Once again, the fundamental fan base of TBS and TNT wrestling was its southern roots. By bringing in one more Northerner to the fold, and giving him absolute power, what did that signal other than “we don’t care about or fans.”
And the story of Russo is long told and overly problematic.
Russo doesn’t believe in a century of professional wrestling, of matchmaking and building up names, of building up big matches and of connecting with the fans.
No, Vinnie Ru attempted to remake the industry, and simply used the staples of the sport and its history, those events, scenarios and situations that drew heat, without regard to the inherent need of emotional investment, let alone time and sequential aspects of the sports/entertainment form.
It’s like watching basketball and seeing a last second three point shot tearing down the house, and expecting to recreate a last second three point shot every other segment on TV, and then acting incredulous when the fans don’t care.
A three point shot is a three point shot, but when it gets set up properly -- when it is at the last minute, when it can win the game, and when the home field fans are hoping for the best possible outcome -- that’s when it becomes magical!
Vince Russo has proven by booking, words and his own history that he has utterly no concept of the fundamentals of professional wrestling.
Hogan proved that he had creative control, would use it, and would only serve himself in the long term.
Nothing else can be interpreted from his actions. Whether or not Hogan actively played politics backstage or not is immaterial. Hogan only acted for Hogan’s sake. He turned heel to earn enormous dollars. He resigned only to earn enormous dollars, and when time came - at any point, with any person, and to any extent, he chose to sit instead of build for the future.
He wanted to prove he was the draw, and he manipulated his appearances to that effect, until the reality played out that no one cared for him as a performer.
Kevin Nash was Hogan, without the icon status, and with twice the effort to manipulate because he wasn't at that icon status and wasn't quite able to do it like the Hulkster.
At first, he was the good guy backstage, the funny one, the guy everyone liked.
By the time he presented himself as the incarnation of Dusty Rhodes, as a booker who was only concerned with himself (and friends, of course) he was well on his way to becoming locker room poison. And he spent the rest of his WCW tenure playing games to improve his stock instead of improving the viability of the company.
That must have been fun.
What good it did for anyone is beyond my understanding.
But to get back to the book and not the story, the book does a great job in distilling those facts, figures and intertwining storylines into a coherent presentation. There are some tangents and some points which are out of order (Jim Hellwig as Warrior directly impacts the health of Davey Boy Smith; Smith’s story is injected long after that storyline is explained) and then they go into some things, including the resurrection of WCW, that don’t seem all that important in the end.
But this is another great book which stands alone as a testament to bad pro wrestling, as well as a great nostalgia piece for those too squeamish to follow the implosion as it happened.
It would serve as a nice gift to a few current owners of professional wrestling companies, and would be much more insightful than losing another few tens of millions of dollars.
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