I’m going to assume that before you went on to read this, you looked at the title and went, “Ew, what? But isn’t wrestling fake?” You would have been right. Modern professional wrestling began in the nineteenth century as a traditional competition based on Greco-Roman wrestling, but to improve the entertainment factor, it went on to become largely scripted and choreographed. Pro-wrestling evolved into an art form—one that combines athleticism, strength, performance, melodrama, and personas to tell stories in a style and structure that mimics competitive combat sports.
When I was little, I thought pro-wrestling was the coolest thing in the world, but I wasn’t sure why. I was aware it wasn’t real, of course, mostly because those who dislike it are always eager to tell those who do that it is fake. However, its apparent “fakeness” never diminished its personal meaning to me. Pro-wrestling might be “fake” if you look at it as an imitation of competitive sport, but that’s not really what it is. When you suspend your disbelief and take wrestling at face value as a medium of storytelling, it’s as real as anything.
You should watch pro-wrestling the same way you watch action sequences in a film. For example, think of the final fight scene in Kill Bill: Vol. 1 (2003), in which The Bride, the deadliest woman in the world, duels O-Ren, the fateful leader of the Japanese Yakuza. If you watch this while being simultaneously aware that it’s just Uma Thurman and Lucy Liu performing these actions on a film set, the skill and work of the actors and stunt doubles as well as the writing, editing, and directing that goes on behind the scenes is revealed. This work is central to making a final product that suspends disbelief and immerses the viewer in a new world.
Pro-wrestling works in a similar way, but instead of being filmed and edited in advance, the action is live. Not only do wrestlers train for years to be able to perform these dangerous and extremely impressive maneuvers to make the violence seem as real as possible, but they fully embody their personas to fuel the stories being told inside the ring. Whether a wrestler’s persona has a theatrical gimmick, such as the Undertaker’s macabre character as the minister of darkness, or a bit more credibility in the case of Kurt Angle (a gold-medal-winning Olympian), at the end of the day, pro-wrestling is about storytelling.
One of the greatest stories ever told in wrestling began only a few years ago and is still playing out. That story belongs to the one and only “Hangman” Adam Page. Hangman is All Elite Wrestling’s self-proclaimed “anxious millennial cowboy,” a fan favorite for his endearing and persevering character. When he enters an arena, the crowd welcomes Hangman with beers and his famous catchphrase, “Cowboy Sh*t!”
Adam Page rose quickly through the ranks of the independent wrestling scene. In 2016, “The Young Bucks” Nick and Matt Jackson saw his potential and invited Page to join them in Japan, which he did. There, Hangman joined New Japan Pro Wrestling and became part of the Bullet Club, one of the league’s villainous factions led by Kenny Omega, who looms as one of the world’s best professional wrestlers and at that time, as the intercontinental champion of the company. Hangman was among the Bullet Club’s least popular wrestlers, with the spotlight shining brighter on championship-decorated members like the Young Bucks, Cody Rhodes, and of course, Kenny Omega. It didn’t help that Page was losing most of his matches, including those for world titles.
However, it seemed that success was on the horizon for the cowboy in 2019. He was one of the first wrestlers signed to All Elite Wrestling, now the second-largest wrestling promotion in the United States, and vowed to become its first world champion. Page felt he’d been losing for too long, and it was finally time to prove his abilities to his fans, fellow faction members, and himself by becoming AEW’s inaugural world champion. Those dreams were painfully crushed at the hands of Chris Jericho, another one of the best professional wrestlers in the industry, when he defeated Page for the world title at the promotion’s first premium event All Out.
Hangman took this loss hard. He found himself at the back of the line for a title opportunity once again. The defeat against Jericho affected Hangman’s confidence to such an extent that he approached the Young Bucks and Omega with the intent of leaving their faction, believing that he had disappointed them and needed to get his head straight for a while. Although they refused to let Page leave, he distanced himself from his members and turned to alcohol to cope with his emotions.
It seemed that Hangman wasn’t an alcoholic; he just liked himself a drink. The audience, who felt sorry for Hangman, comforted him by offering him beers at live shows. Kenny Omega, having had similarly crushing losses in the past, also resonated with Hangman. Omega didn’t approve of Page’s drinking, but he understood him. The two began teaming together and experienced great success, even becoming AEW Tag Team Champions in 2020.
Soon, it became clear to fans that Hangman’s drinking was a coping mechanism for his feelings of disappointment and inferiority. Adam Page didn’t believe in himself and beer helped him forget about it. The Young Bucks began to grow tired of the new “intoxicated” Hangman and were patronizing about his drinking, telling him that he was letting down the faction and reminding him that he was just a loser before they brought him into the ring. This harassment led to a Tag Team Championship bout between Omega and Hangman vs. the Bucks, a match that irreparably destroyed the relationship between Hangman and his old best friends.
At this point, kicked out of the Bullet Club, all Hangman had left was his tag team with Kenny Omega. The two would lose their championships at their next title defense, and at the end of that match, Omega walked out on an exhausted Hangman. That same year, Omega and the Young Bucks would go on to become AEW World Champion and AEW Tag Team Champions, respectively making history for longest reigns in AEW history. Hangman was left completely alone with only the company of his insecurities, and it seemed that his former friends were doing much better without him.
For years, Hangman continuously tried and failed. He had no other reason but to believe he was less than his competitors, but late last year at AEW Full Gear, all of Hangman’s work paid off when he finally defeated his former best friend Kenny Omega for the AEW World Championship. Omega, the cocky villainous champion lost to the same man he and his faction left behind. Hangman was finally a champion. In the climax of a story years in the making, our nervous and self-conscious cowboy finally washed away his insecurities. When offered a beer to celebrate his championship win, Hangman threw the can away before embracing one of the many fans who supported him on his journey from the bottom to the top.
This great multi-year narrative could only unfold through wrestling, and I hope it conveyed just how fascinating wrestling can be when done correctly. I get it, though, wrestling definitely isn’t for everyone. It can be ridiculous, cringeworthy, and sometimes, even distasteful. But at its best, wrestling can be thrilling, exciting, funny, and in the case of ‘Hangman’ Adam Page, truly touching. So is wrestling fake? Sure. That doesn’t mean it can’t be honest.
I’m going to assume that before you went on to read this, you looked at the title and went, “Ew, what? But isn’t wrestling fake?” You would have been right. Modern professional wrestling began in the nineteenth century as a traditional competition based on Greco-Roman wrestling, but to improve the entertainment factor, it went on to become largely scripted and choreographed. Pro-wrestling evolved into an art form—one that combines athleticism, strength, performance, melodrama, and personas to tell stories in a style and structure that mimics competitive combat sports.
When I was little, I thought pro-wrestling was the coolest thing in the world, but I wasn’t sure why. I was aware it wasn’t real, of course, mostly because those who dislike it are always eager to tell those who do that it is fake. However, its apparent “fakeness” never diminished its personal meaning to me. Pro-wrestling might be “fake” if you look at it as an imitation of competitive sport, but that’s not really what it is. When you suspend your disbelief and take wrestling at face value as a medium of storytelling, it’s as real as anything.
You should watch pro-wrestling the same way you watch action sequences in a film. For example, think of the final fight scene in Kill Bill: Vol. 1 (2003), in which The Bride, the deadliest woman in the world, duels O-Ren, the fateful leader of the Japanese Yakuza. If you watch this while being simultaneously aware that it’s just Uma Thurman and Lucy Liu performing these actions on a film set, the skill and work of the actors and stunt doubles as well as the writing, editing, and directing that goes on behind the scenes is revealed. This work is central to making a final product that suspends disbelief and immerses the viewer in a new world.
Pro-wrestling works in a similar way, but instead of being filmed and edited in advance, the action is live. Not only do wrestlers train for years to be able to perform these dangerous and extremely impressive maneuvers to make the violence seem as real as possible, but they fully embody their personas to fuel the stories being told inside the ring. Whether a wrestler’s persona has a theatrical gimmick, such as the Undertaker’s macabre character as the minister of darkness, or a bit more credibility in the case of Kurt Angle (a gold-medal-winning Olympian), at the end of the day, pro-wrestling is about storytelling.
One of the greatest stories ever told in wrestling began only a few years ago and is still playing out. That story belongs to the one and only “Hangman” Adam Page. Hangman is All Elite Wrestling’s self-proclaimed “anxious millennial cowboy,” a fan favorite for his endearing and persevering character. When he enters an arena, the crowd welcomes Hangman with beers and his famous catchphrase, “Cowboy Sh*t!”
Adam Page rose quickly through the ranks of the independent wrestling scene. In 2016, “The Young Bucks” Nick and Matt Jackson saw his potential and invited Page to join them in Japan, which he did. There, Hangman joined New Japan Pro Wrestling and became part of the Bullet Club, one of the league’s villainous factions led by Kenny Omega, who looms as one of the world’s best professional wrestlers and at that time, as the intercontinental champion of the company. Hangman was among the Bullet Club’s least popular wrestlers, with the spotlight shining brighter on championship-decorated members like the Young Bucks, Cody Rhodes, and of course, Kenny Omega. It didn’t help that Page was losing most of his matches, including those for world titles.
However, it seemed that success was on the horizon for the cowboy in 2019. He was one of the first wrestlers signed to All Elite Wrestling, now the second-largest wrestling promotion in the United States, and vowed to become its first world champion. Page felt he’d been losing for too long, and it was finally time to prove his abilities to his fans, fellow faction members, and himself by becoming AEW’s inaugural world champion. Those dreams were painfully crushed at the hands of Chris Jericho, another one of the best professional wrestlers in the industry, when he defeated Page for the world title at the promotion’s first premium event All Out.
Hangman took this loss hard. He found himself at the back of the line for a title opportunity once again. The defeat against Jericho affected Hangman’s confidence to such an extent that he approached the Young Bucks and Omega with the intent of leaving their faction, believing that he had disappointed them and needed to get his head straight for a while. Although they refused to let Page leave, he distanced himself from his members and turned to alcohol to cope with his emotions.
It seemed that Hangman wasn’t an alcoholic; he just liked himself a drink. The audience, who felt sorry for Hangman, comforted him by offering him beers at live shows. Kenny Omega, having had similarly crushing losses in the past, also resonated with Hangman. Omega didn’t approve of Page’s drinking, but he understood him. The two began teaming together and experienced great success, even becoming AEW Tag Team Champions in 2020.
Soon, it became clear to fans that Hangman’s drinking was a coping mechanism for his feelings of disappointment and inferiority. Adam Page didn’t believe in himself and beer helped him forget about it. The Young Bucks began to grow tired of the new “intoxicated” Hangman and were patronizing about his drinking, telling him that he was letting down the faction and reminding him that he was just a loser before they brought him into the ring. This harassment led to a Tag Team Championship bout between Omega and Hangman vs. the Bucks, a match that irreparably destroyed the relationship between Hangman and his old best friends.
At this point, kicked out of the Bullet Club, all Hangman had left was his tag team with Kenny Omega. The two would lose their championships at their next title defense, and at the end of that match, Omega walked out on an exhausted Hangman. That same year, Omega and the Young Bucks would go on to become AEW World Champion and AEW Tag Team Champions, respectively making history for longest reigns in AEW history. Hangman was left completely alone with only the company of his insecurities, and it seemed that his former friends were doing much better without him.
For years, Hangman continuously tried and failed. He had no other reason but to believe he was less than his competitors, but late last year at AEW Full Gear, all of Hangman’s work paid off when he finally defeated his former best friend Kenny Omega for the AEW World Championship. Omega, the cocky villainous champion lost to the same man he and his faction left behind. Hangman was finally a champion. In the climax of a story years in the making, our nervous and self-conscious cowboy finally washed away his insecurities. When offered a beer to celebrate his championship win, Hangman threw the can away before embracing one of the many fans who supported him on his journey from the bottom to the top.
This great multi-year narrative could only unfold through wrestling, and I hope it conveyed just how fascinating wrestling can be when done correctly. I get it, though, wrestling definitely isn’t for everyone. It can be ridiculous, cringeworthy, and sometimes, even distasteful. But at its best, wrestling can be thrilling, exciting, funny, and in the case of ‘Hangman’ Adam Page, truly touching. So is wrestling fake? Sure. That doesn’t mean it can’t be honest.
