Hope and hard times
Hello folks. I wrote this piece about Dusty Rhodes, the professional wrestler who died last week. I figured that I might as well share it here with you all.
Professional wrestling is a misunderstood and unappreciated art form. I’d been planning on writing something on that very subject and then Rhodes died, and it seemed like his career and persona encapsulated a lot of what I wanted to say on the matter.
I’m well aware that wrestling can be goofy, tacky, dull or even just plain offensive at times. But I also think this particularly weird subculture can be pretty astonishing too, in a whole variety of ways. Even when it is goofy/tacky/dull/offensive, there is often something interesting lingering under the surface. A pre-determined sport, by its very nature, ends up working on several narrative levels, playing with notions of reality and fiction, and when everything works is a complex, yet emotional spectacle.
I suppose I might elaborate on all that further down the line, or maybe not. But I think the piece linked to above articulates at least some of my thoughts, for what its worth.