I enjoy the half naked acrobatic panto, otherwise known as wrestling, with a storyteller’s eye. Everyone else in my household is incredibly enthusiastic. When we heard a few months ago that a live show was going to be held at the O2 Arena the day after Lady M’s birthday there was no hesitation, and tickets were booked. As we don’t do things by halves, and partly because it was also the cub’s first time seeing a live show, we got tickets in the ramp-side seats at ringside.
And so, despite the best efforts of my sat nav and an incredible number of roadworks around the Arena itself, we got there on time – and staff helped provide a wheelchair and escort for the boy s as his knees failed.
As a sidebar, talking to the boy today, he was so impressed by how simply and effectively the staff helped, without making any kind of deal about out and helping him with cheer and obvious enjoyment. It was, he says, lovely to be getting assistance without feeling like there was a spotlight on him. Well done the O2 staff.
The crowd was a mix of all ages – very much a family event – and stewards were effective at keeping walkways clear without throwing their weight around. The Arena filled quickly, but it never felt a crush – and my worries about being overwhelmed eased. It was, as you might hope of a famous venue and an experienced production team, a well-oiled machine.
Was it fun? Oh yes. The performances varied in energy level, partly I suspect so people didn’t burn out and get over-stimulated, and I enjoyed watching the performances of faces and heels as they worked the audience and sold their bouts.
Watching everyone else’s reactions was wonderful – I’ve got some great memories of how Lady M, boy s and the cub responded to various musical cues, appearances, and moves in the ring.
I also got the impression that the performers were enjoying themselves too. It wasn’t a set of televised bouts, the pressure was off a little, and even feuding characters let the odd grin escape in the moment. They didn’t let up in the intensity of some of the bouts however.
You can go on about how wrestling is fake – not a true competition – and miss entirely the storytelling and sheer physicality of those performances. People want to see heroes and villains. They want to see conflict, but they also want to be safe.
Heroes rise and villains fall. Longer form storytelling occasionally flips the script – villains who win then make their final comeuppance even more affecting. Heroes who have been crushed, can then bring the story of a fight back and overcoming a tougher challenge.
It’s mythmaking, same as we ever have told and loved and seen – and I’m glad we went – even with a two hour journey home via the South Circular afterwards. There is already talk of seeing another, even though everyone in the house is aching and exhausted today.