by Rick Scaia
Exclusive to OnlineOnslaught.com

Almost all fans recognize that wrestling is predetermined.  Winners and losers are determined by officials and writers, and are not based in any way shape or form upon which wrestler is a superior grappler.  Winners and losers are determined by storyline considerations, by who can sell the most merchandise, and sadly, sometimes, by political collusion.

We KNOW these things.  If I may get into the spirit of the holiday, perhaps I should say that we hold those truths to be self-evident.

And yet, recognizing that wrestling is as fixed as Bob Barker's smellhound, we as fans still work ourselves into a tizzy over the matter of pro wrestling title belts.

We, of all people, should realize that they are little more than costume jewelry.  If winners and losers in pro wrestling have nothing to do with actual wrestling skill, than what weight should be given to winning a piece of leather and faux gold in a wrestling match?  Theoretically, the logical answer should be, "None."

Pragmatically, however, the answer turns out to be "A whole hell of a lot."

It's a little paradox that I've periodically wrestled with for a long time.  I even did a big-ass column about it back in the nWWWo days, about 5 years ago.  If you happened to miss it, don't worry: chances are very good that "The Critique of Poor Wrestling" will be recycled at some point for use as a Thursday OOld School piece.  

It's not, however, an issue that I've had gnawing at me recently.  That is, not until Chris Lopez did a fantastic guest column about the dozen or so "World" titles out there and just who should be recognized as the champion among champions.  I read that, and the whole thing came rushing back.

My first instinct when I got a draft of the column through Jeb Lund: well, Chris doesn't even know this, but it was kind of a bemused chuckle.  I kind of thought it was the sort of mark-ish exercise that leaves people inside the industry laughing uncontrollably at what totally obsessed tools some fans are.  Of course, sometimes, these are the same people who lobby ruthlessly to hold the very titles that "the marks" spend way too much time obsessing over, so who's really the tool, huh?

But after answering some questions for Chris and kind of getting vested in the column, I found my opinion changing.  Sure, maybe I thought that debating the relative worth of a dozen different props was kind of silly at first, but Chris' enthusiasm, the way he told the stories of the various belts and the way he reasoned through their values, it kind of sucked me back into the big ol' paradox.

And that, in turn, got me questioning my usual default position ("all belts are just props"), which in turn got me questioning why it was that (a) lots of fans, no matter how smart, are obsessed with the significance of title belts, and (b) I was finding myself intrigued by Chris' arguments and theories despite my own iron-clad faith in my own exceptional smart-ness.

At this point, it's probably important to point out that my enterprise here is not to debate Chris point-by-point (though I believe very strongly that you should go back and read his column to get primed for what follows), nor is it to determine which "World Champion" is really the best of all (Chris couldn't really figure it out, and I'm not sure if all my ranting and raving will produce an acceptable answer).  It is, instead, to make my own peace with this issue of the true significance of wrestling titles.  And, of course, to drag you along for the ride so that I can convince you that whatever conclusions I reach should also be yours.  Such are the benefits of having thousands of loyal minions!

WHAT FANS BELIEVE

As briefly outlined above, 99% of fans are smart to the business at this point in time.  They know outcomes are predetermined, but they don't care, because the form itself is entertaining.

A goodly percentage of fans won't think twice about what a particular match outcome MEANS.  They'll just absorb it and take it as further motivation to cheer or boo or otherwise throw themselves feet first into the whole grand spectacle.  Being smart to the business does not, for the majority, preclude the ability to just give in and suspend disbelief.  If their favorite wrestler loses, they may be upset, but they don't get too worried about it; they just tune in next week in hopes of a reversal of fortune.

Of course, appreciate them as I do, these fans are probably inconsequential to our discussion here.  Because none of you are those fans.  None of those fans are the ones debating the significance of title belts.  Among a minority of the wrestling audience, a secondary belief system appears, and THAT is where we should focus our energy.

I don't know if it's one fan in ten, or perhaps as many as one-third of all fans or more, but in the wrestling universe, there is a subset of fan who believes his/her smart-ness brings with it the ability to accurately assign cosmic significance to each and every match result.  Some of us even take this presumed expertise to the public, and do columns and whatnot.

As an example, let's look at Billy Gunn defeating John Cena last night on SmackDown!.  If I know this type of fan, the typical assessment of that outcome would be barely contained outrage on the grounds that John Cena has been getting much bigger fan responses than Billy Gunn ever has, and therefore should have been the logical choice to be put over.  As it stands, the selected outcome further "buries" Cena in the minds of the average fan that our armchair bookers presume to know so well.

This example also serves as a perfect segue to the main thrust of this column: as a Thursday night wrestling match, it'd be debated furiously enough.  But it wasn't just a one-off match, it was a match to help determine a new United States Champion.  A new holder of one of these title belts of presently-indeterminate true value, in other words.  This adds depth to the moral outrage, as the significance of the outcome can now be tinged with "useless old guy going over promising young star" arguments as fans profess Gunn's utter lack of value in terms of helping to give legitimacy to a new title.  The title, in fact, is of such import that these fans remain outraged despite the fact that John Cena likely stands to gain a lot more from a feud against the Undertaker than he would as a failed semi-finalist for the US belt.  Nope, that never even occurs to this type of fan...

These fans can deduce who can help make a title, and also how a title can help make a superstar.  Here, the argument logically must shift to RAW and Triple H.

Fans believe that HHH's dominance of the World Title is a bad thing.  This is so because not only does HHH's winning streak reduce dramatic tension in each and every one of his title defenses, it prevents younger, more deserving stars from holding the strap and being elevated to a new level because of it.  HHH is already championship caliber to all fans, even if he's not holding the belt, so the reasoning goes.  But Rob Van Dam, Booker T, Kane, they NEED the rub that comes with holding the gold to move up a notch.

Reading between the lines, fans apparently believe that there is value in title belts as props: they can signal to "average" fans that it's OK to care a little bit more about or cheer a little bit harder for RVD or Kane or whoever.  And it's good business to keep fresh stars cycling in, and to maintain dramatic tension at all times.  I think most smart fans would try to couch almost any argument over "worthy" champions in this fashion.  But I think that these fans are sometimes betrayed by their own tenacity in debating these points.

Afterall, we're fans.  What do we really care about "good business," at the end of the day?  There's something else driving our staunchly held beliefs.  But we'll get into that below.  

WHAT WRESTLERS BELIEVE

Fans aren't the only ones with an often-contradictory view of title belts.  Wrestlers and writers alike can sometimes display a sort of naiveté, sometimes even a outright schizophrenia, with regard to the true importance of wrestling titles.

How many interviews have you heard or read where a guy professes that the reason he got into the wrestling business was to hold the Big Title?  More than you can count, I'm sure.  And the thing is, I honestly believe each and every one of them.  Some of 'em may not have a shot in hell of ever getting there, but I don't think very many guys have ever devoted themselves to the wrestling business with the goal of jobbing to Spike Dudley on Heat.

And if I believe them, then that means that they believe in some significance of title belts beyond just being props.  The WRESTLERS THEMSELVES believe that holding a belt means something.  I will not go so far as to say that they honestly believe holding a belt makes them the unimpeachable Best Wrestler in the World.  But at the very least, I think they view it as proof positive that you will be remembered in the business, that your spot on the card is in the main event, and that you'll likely be making a decent chunk of money along the way.

There may even be cases of wrestlers themselves believing in the title belt as evidence of their own greatness.  As huge a fan as I am of his work, I always got the impression that Bret Hart didn't care about his titles so much as tickets to main events and big pay days as he did care about them because he thought they proved to the world he honestly was "The Best There Is" and so on and so forth, while at the same time appreciating the money and fame.  I don't think he himself fully understood his own attachment to the title, and I take that as ample evidence that the boys aren't any more immune to periodically getting wrapped up in such things than we are.

Whatever the bottom line motivation, there is no doubt that copious backstage politicking goes on over these title belts.  Guys with the right connections stand a better chance of getting some gold than guys who don't.  If you're HHH, status as a soon-to-be McMahon-in-law means he's probably in no rush to drop the gold he's already got.  Going back to Bret momentarily: one may even believe so strongly in the significance of the belt that he'll refuse to drop it to a real-life nemesis in his home country so as not to disillusion his biggest fans.

It's not just the World Titles that cause guys to enter into alliances and back room chicanery that would confound you even more than if you watched "Memento" while on LSD.  Even to be permitted to carry around a tag belt or secondary title is something that these guys aspire to.  Being a minor title holder, they figure, might be a stepping stone to even bigger things.  At the very least, it's logical to assume that holding a title means working higher on the card (thus, bigger pay-offs) and getting move TV exposure (perhaps increasing sales of your merchandise).

And the bookers/writers might buy into some of the same beliefs.  A guy needs some "rub," and so they concoct a way for him to wear a title belt.  Magically, the guy will now be more legitimate.

But see, this is where the contradictory/schizophrenic aspect kicks in.  Because sometimes, it seems like bookers will make a decision to move a title because it's the title that needs rehabilitation, not the wrestler.  When creating the SD! tag titles last year, the creative team crafted a storyline in which two singles wrestlers (Benoit and Angle) were forced together as a team; their participation in the tourney and subsequent months of feuding over the title legitimized it in a way that Billy and Chuck vs. Three Minute Warning never would have.

Clearly, those within the industry see both these diametrically opposed viewpoints as having value.  But which is it?  Perhaps now is as good a time to move past what people believe, and get to....  

WHAT IS TRUE

I've thought longer than I'd care to admit about this in the two weeks or so since Chris' column got me started down this path...  and more than anything, I've concluded that what various people -- be they fans or be they in the business -- believe about titles is a mask to cover up the truth.

Bottom line: wrestling titles ARE PROPS.  They are awarded arbitrarily to the "winners" of fixed fights.

That does not, however, mean they are meaningless.  They may, as some fans apparently believe, have symbolic value, signaling to "average" viewers who is more talented/important at a given time.  They may, as wrestlers want to believe, be a shortcut to main event pay-outs and creative a legacy.  Or possibly, as creative teams want to believe, they may be a magical cure-all to revive a stalled wrestler's career.

But you know what?  Those are things that are hard to measure.  And truthfully, I think there are more easily identifiable things at work here, things that fans and those in the industry would rather ignore.

For starters, smarter fans like to think they are above such pathetically markish behavior as getting wrapped up in cheering for a certain wrestler.  So instead of showing ass by giving in to the moment by joining in on chants and stuff like that, we'll go home from a live event and try to use rhetoric to explain why our favorite wrestlers should be your favorite wrestlers.  And if our favorite wrestlers lose a match, you can forget about getting into the moment and anticipating the rematch.  Nope, because it's time to rationalize why our favorite wrestler losing is bad for business, and therefore, a boneheaded move.  And as I stated above, it's kind of silly for fans to have an interest in (and dubious that they would presume a mastery of) what's "good for business."

I acknowledge that there are structure in place that allow us to say, "Chris Benoit is a better technical wrestler than Hulk Hogan."  But it does not follow that "Chris Benoit, therefore, should hold as many world titles as Hulk Hogan."  Because, and again I cannot harp on this enough, ACTUALLY BEING A GOOD WRESTLER HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH WINNING AND LOSING AND HOLDING TITLES.  Better to wonder if there is some way in which to prove that Chris Benoit is, overall, more entertaining than Hulk Hogan to the entire viewing audience.  And once you consider that, well, you begin to see how things really work.

Smart fans who hide behind workrate and technical ability as their yardsticks for title worthiness are missing the point.  What they are doing is picking their criteria, which just so happen to favor their favorite wrestlers (or they have favorite wrestlers which just so happen to display aptitude for their favorite criteria, it doesn't really matter), and then trying to use it as evidence for their favorite wrestler always winning, and holding every major title for all of eternity.

What makes that any different from the kid in the third row with the "Whole F'n Show" sign who has been an RVD fan for as long as he can remember and really hopes he can win the title tonight?  Nothing.  Nothing at all.  You're a mark for a certain wrestler, plain and simple.  That you can adopt a smart attitude later on while advocating said wrestler's greatness is of no concern.  And your attempts to convince me that Wrestler X should be holding a certain title are all flavored by that unique brand of markishness.

Like I said, they're missing the point.

Titles are not awarded based on actual wrestling skill... or even on fake wrestling skill (something that I think translates in smart talk to "workrate").  That is not to say that fans are 100% wrong to use that as a criteria, of course.  I mean, let's face it: wearing a title does mean more TV time, and often even means working near or at the very top of the card.  You cannot put subpar performers in the ring to eat up substantial amounts of main event time.  

The men who hold titles MUST be talented enough to be entertaining and to come across as deserving of the status that has been granted them by the powers that be.  I just think there are certain fans who refuse to accept the full slate of skills that go into being "entertaining," a slate that goes beyond knowing a double digit number of suplexes.

And this is an argument that might dovetail nicely into a possible misconception held by those in the business.  

This idea that wrestlers who are handed a title belt will instantly be more over with fans is hogwash, albeit hogwash that allows wrestlers and creative team alike to take solace in how easy it is to elevate a guy.

In reality, a wrestler must demonstrate the talent and ability to entertain to be over.  The title belt won't be an adequate substitute for either of those things.  However, if those qualities are on display, a title belt WILL shine the spotlight a little more brightly on its owner, and allow them to display those qualities to fans.  A well-rounded talent without a belt may not reach his full potential, I grant that.  But a worker who has never given fans one solitary reason to care who is handed a belt WILL not reach a point where he is a major asset to his company.

Similarly, those who book and write the storylines need to realize that they have a hand in making sure a talent's abilities are displayed effectively.  Even if they've identified a guy who has all the tools necessary to make it big, they can't just hand him a title.  They need to put him in situations that allow him to shine.  Both before and during the title reign, the creative team's job is not just to give a guy a title and say, "There you go, now you're a superstar."  It's to give the guy a context within which to display the tools and skills that make him a worthy titleholder.

At the heart of these truths is the simple fact that title belts are just props, tools to be used to various ends.  But again, I also reiterate that that does not diminish the value that they have below the level that many seemingly assign them.  It just means we have to be careful about how we define that value. 

THE FINAL ANALYSIS

So wrestling is fake and titles are just props.  But fans want to believe in them.  Wrestlers themselves want to believe in them, it seems.  And once I stop to consider it, I don't think that's wrong.

Look: the Ark of the Covenant and the Holy Grail weren't real, and Harrison Ford didn't really unearth them.  But his quests for those things were very entertaining, and our opinion of Harrison Ford rose to the point that we keep on going to see him work, even now that he's making exclusively shitty movies.  He may not have really obtained the treasures of the Ark or the Grail, but that's OK because it's the telling of the story that mattered; and his prize was a legacy with movie goers that he's King Shit of Turd Mountain for now and for ever more.  It's not the "real" title of being an Oscar winner, but tell me that billions of dollars in box office and a guaranteed spot in the memories of every American between the ages of 15 and 50 is such a terrible consolation prize.

Pro wrestling titles may not be any more real than the Ark or the Grail, but their effects can be real just as real, and that's what matters.

As a storytelling device, they can boost an individual's standing with fans or give heft to an existing feud.  A title that has been properly cultivated can imbue its holder with status that would otherwise be unobtainable.  The title means something on its own, and the holder's desire to retain it at any costs can often be a defining personality trait, driving him to outrageous behavior (think Steve Austin from 2 years ago).  To the rest of the roster chasing it, the title can give motivation that is simpler and somehow more compelling than could be created by any number of vehicular assaults, sledgehammer attacks, or girlfriend stealings.  A guy doesn't need to have been personally violated to want to face the champ; he just has to want that piece of gold.

Perhaps here is as good a point to also address another important matter: that a title's value is directly affected by how a company treats said title.  The leather and gold is all created equal; but the effort that goes into legitimizing each strap is its defining element.  Let's look at what comprises -- for us, as typical US fans -- the "Big Three" of title belts for a quick lesson:

First, there's the RAW "World Title."  It's the youngest of the Big Three, coming into existence about 10 months ago, when it was arbitrarily awarded to Triple H when Brock Lesnar (then "Undisputed Champion") decided he only wanted to work for SmackDown!.  Right off the bat, WWE's scheme to create a separate-but-equal World Title is dubious.  That they simply handed it to Triple H makes it more so.  In the ensuing months, you can argue that the IC/US, Hardcore, and European Titles were all unified into this at-first fictional belt, but I'd refuse any attempt to claim that this is a belt whose legacy is in any way tied to the old WCW Title (and by proxy, the NWA Title).  The physical strap itself is a duplicate of the best known iteration of the NWA/WCW Title, but that's about it.  Since the inception of the belt, I do grant that it's been convincingly built up.  On the strength of WWE's standing as the only major international wrestling company, HHH (who has held the title for all but one month since its creation) has defended the belt in major PPV matches across the globe against legitimate competition.  WWE's ability to put that "big time" feel behind all its shows helps to mask the title's dubious beginnings, and the result is a belt that I think means something to fans, and which has been presented in storylines as meaning plenty to its holder, as well.

Second, the case of the "NWA Title."  I put that in quotes because, for all intents and purposes, this is really the "TNA Title," and it's true lineage only goes back one year to TNA's first PPV.  The NWA label is nice to have, but really, to any but the most diehard of fans, its a label that lost its meaning 12 or more years ago when Ric Flair walked out on WCW.  Chris outlined that whole scenario, so I won't waste your time with a rehash.  The simple fact is that NWA mismanaged their relationships with Flair and WCW back when their name still had value.  Ten years of sporadically re-created titles and only slightly less-sporadic defenses didn't do them any good.  Stripping Dan Severn of the title last May for the simple reason of wanting to be attached to the Jarretts new PPV venture was a business decision, nothing else.  The title being defended in TNA is called the NWA Title, but it has none of the legacy of that title.  It's a one-year-old concoction, and needs to stand on that year's body of work.  And unfortunately, a handful of international defenses by Jeff Jarrett does not fully mask the fact that this is a belt that has been defended roughly semi-monthly in a grand total of one city in Tennessee.  It serves its purpose for TNA, which is fine.  But NWA's handling of its business over a decade ago effectively robbed them of 50 or more years of rich history, at least to this fan.

Lastly, there's SD's WWE Title.  Simply put, this is the belt that has all the strength of WWE's promotional machine (as outlined regarded the World Title), combined with a legitimate 40-plus year legacy.  This, and this alone, is the belt held by Sammartino, Hogan, and Hart.  Today, it's held by Brock Lesnar and is defended regularly all over the globe against stiff competition in major, money-making matches.  The only thing that co-opts the WWE Title's claim to being the one, singular Most Important Title in the World is the company's decision, 10 months ago, to create a mirror title for RAW.  This does not halve the WWE Title's importance, but it does make you wonder how one company can promote two equal "World Champions."  Still, if pressed, I think it's a no brainer:  Brock Lesnar, WWE Champion, would be my choice for the owner of the best-promoted, most wisely-handled, ultra-important title in the business today.

See, I didn't even mean to get into a whole big thing there, and yet, I wound up going right back into the same territory Chris covered: trying to determine the most important title in the business, even after I just got done talking about how titles are just props (albeit valuable ones).  

At this point, WWE is probably the sole owner of the titles that can truly mean something.  Call the World and WWE Titles the Ark and the Grail, respectively, to go back to my previous example.  They've made us believe they have value, so therefore, stories of their acquisition can be thrilling.  And the men who hold them or chase them can be compelling, and just might be building a legacy that will shadow them for decades.

And what underlying reasons are there for something so false and arbitrary as a piece of gold awarded to the winner of a fixed fight meaning so much?

Well, for fans, I think it goes back to my point above about all of us having favorites, even if the way we express our loyalty differs.  But it doesn't matter if you're a 10 year old kid who just thinks RVD is cool, or if you're a 30 year old smart who was trading for Benoit tapes back when he was the Pegasus Kid...  you still, at the end of the day, want your guy to hold a title.  And it's because of this:  

In a business that we acknowledge is fixed, we want to believe that there is some way to PROVE our guy is better than another wrestler.  Sometimes we'll attach meaning to the outcomes of a single match if we're stuck for topics of conversation.  But more often than not, the rational fan will go for a Big Picture approach, which means looking at things like title reigns as a measure of greatness.

And so wrestling titles become the bright shining lie (if I may borrow from myself, circa five years ago) that fans WANT to believe in.  They give us tangible measures for comparing, they give us a way to bestow legendary status upon some, while dismissing others.  Fans who grew up idolizing Bruno Sammartino can point to over a decade total of time spent holding the WWWF Title and proclaim his greatness.  Fans more my age will look fondly upon Hulk Hogan, the Rock, and Bret Hart, and be able to back up our fandom by pointing to record-setting performances like five and six WWF Title reigns apiece for each guy.

If we believe, at the end of the day, that being a champion means something, then it also means, at the end of the day, that we can compare the wrestlers of today to those of the past.  And that means the years we've invested in this silly little spectacle of fake fighting might not have been time wasted.  Titles are comforting, if nothing else.

For wrestlers themselves, I doubt the situation is much different.  They don't want to be remembered as guys who dressed in their underwear and pretended to wrestle.  To them, holding a title is something they can point to 20 years after the fact as proof that they were near the top of the business.  Does it mean that they really were the best?  No, not really, but it means they made an impact, and it gives them a way to measure their contribution to the business versus their peers.

And while titles give fans a tangible measuring stick, it gives the guys themselves something even more solid:  the physical belt itself.  These days, a guy holds a belt, and he usually gets a replica of it to keep.  He can hang it somewhere like a trophy, a reminder of the good ol' days.  That's definitely worth something.

I know I risk pissing off a good number of you by outright stating that wrestling titles are just props: things than can be held by some and chased by others. But it's the truth.  Fortunately for me, I can perhaps get some of you back with my admission that, prop or not, title belts can still be of significant value.

A well-handled title can, in the present, be a "Holy Grail" that we want our heroes to snatch away from the villains.  A well-handled title can, in the future, be looked back upon as a measure of greatness.

It's just that no matter how well-handled your title is, it will never really tell you who the best wrestler in the world is or was. 
  

E-MAIL RICK SCAIA
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Rick Scaia is a wrestling fan from Dayton, OH.  He's been doing this since 1995, but enjoyed it best when the suckers from SportsLine were actually PAYING him to be a fan.

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