Take the Technicolor storytelling of a comic book and combine it with the aerobic elegance of the Cirque du Soleil. Then inject the drama of an EastEnders Christmas special or the high-energy camp of a panto and cram it all into a sweaty lycra singlet for your nan to scream at. Such a heady combo is akin to the idiosyncratic brilliance of British wrestling at its finest.
This week ITV confirmed that World of Sport Wrestling (WoSW) is coming back to the channel for a 10-part series, three decades since the end of its original run. For 20 years, wrestling beamed into the living rooms and went head to head with the BBC, “engaging in a David and Goliath Saturday afternoon battle with Grandstand”. While World of Sport showcased other (arguably more legitimate) competitive endeavours during its Saturday show, it was the 4pm wrestling that really captured the imagination of its audience.
In its prime, it drew millions of fans, from small children cheering for the babyfaces to OAPs shaking fists at the heels. It brought people together, and gave them the opportunity to get behind something innocent, eccentric and unmistakably British.
In those days, grapplers such as Mick McManus, Klondyke Kate, Big Daddy and Giant Haystacks were household names, with the latter two developing a feud still revered as one of the greatest in wrestling history. When WoSW was dropped in September 1985, wrestlers stepped from the glow of telly limelight, into the social clubs and function rooms.
American wrestling continued to thrive on the other side of the pond, with WWF superstars such as Hulk Hogan and the Ultimate Warrior taking the sport to a new level. But with little chance of the sport bringing fame and fortune to Brits, the UK scene went underground, with wrestling heroes having normal 9-to-5s, shedding their day-to-day attire for spandex and baby oil at the weekends.
To be a wrestler, you had to really want it. Those desperate to be at the top of their game evolved their style. Promotions such as Fight Club: Pro are drawing thousands of fans at venues such as Birmingham’s NEC, and PROGRESS is gearing up for its biggest show at the SSE Arena Wembley – playing to passionate audiences.
The WWE has seen the UK talent and their potential, giving them a global platform on which to showcase their abilities worldwide. Hardworking Pete Dunne from Birmingham, the fierce Welsh wonder Steffanie “Nixon” Newell, Dudley’s Tyler Bate and Trent Seven, a moustachioed powerhouse from Wolverhampton, are all regulars on the global WWE Network. While hopefuls once dreamed of one day making it to America to compete, now the US is looking to us for the best talent in the world.
Popular Netflix series GLOW, a comedy based on the real-life Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling franchise, and movies such as The Wrestler and British wrestling film Walk Like a Panther prove there’s still a wider cultural interest in the sport. Now ITV has potentially found the perfect time to remind the wider, British audience of WoSW magic.
Filmed in front of live audiences in Norwich in May, it promises to “combine the best of the past with incredible talent available today”. On New Year’s Eve 2016, the channel screened a one-off episode, testing the water and introducing the nation to stars such as the masked El Ligero, the world-class Viper and its star men Grado and man mountain Dave Mastiff.
One of the main criticisms levelled at it by living room sceptics was that it wasn’t real, and that the outcome of the bouts are pre-determined. When Giant Haystacks was going at it with Big Daddy, the fact that the matches were a “work” was unknown to most.
But turning away from wrestling for being fake is as ludicrous as writing off a Steven Spielberg blockbuster for being staged. Wrestling asks nothing of you but to suspend your disbelief for an hour or so, and allow yourself to watch a story unfold. When WOS Wrestling returns to our screens, take an hour to sit down with the kids to revel in an old, but not quite forgotten, British tradition. A lot of things have changed in the last 30 years, but our ability to scream blue murder at a hairy bloke in pants, hopefully, has not.
