Since the horse hasn’t died yet, I’m going to keep flogging it. Here are two views on Lesnar that I thought were interesting new angles. First Zak Woods tries to get at the perception of the elusive “mainstream”:
Yet all of the talk, analysis, conjecture and opinion fails to address one very important point, where does the (Lesnar) hate originate from?
Maybe I missed something but my experience with casual fans and Brock Lesnar is not one of universal scorn (he is no Jack Johnson or Aaron Pryor my friends). The WWE fans who buy his pay-per views don’t hate him nor does the mainstream audience that bought or watched UFC 100 out of curiosity. Lesnar to them represents an anchor, something that is familiar and already quantifiable, as they dive into an unfamiliar and foreign sport. Put it this way, Lesnar is the easy thing for newcomers to understand and that’s alright with such a complex sport as MMA.…
What actually happened on Saturday night was the mainstream soaking up the bizarre spectacle that was Lesnar’s rant amidst a chorus of boos. The story became attached to the tirade itself not the source that precipitated Lesnar’s speech. The hate and vitriol that everyone is now discussing doesn’t come from Lesnar’s comments, it comes from a different source, the actual fans of mixed martial arts. This constituency’s feelings and opinions have been co-opted into a convenient narrative by outsiders and detractors. Ultimately the mainstream’s discussion of villainy fails because it fails to address the offended party. Now whether the offense is justified or not is whole other story. But I for one don’t believe UFC 100 was the birth of next Jack Johnson.
Professional wrestling in this day and age is little more than the old guy at the club. Awkward, out of place and completely oblivious to reality. I, like most intelligent 30 somethings, have left pro wrestling in my rear view mirror. I have reached a point in my life where having once been a wrestling fan is as much of an embarrassment as having once been a fan of Limp Bizkit. I have taken my wrestling dvds and attire and placed them in a box in the closet that also contains my red Yankees hat, hatchet gear and other items of eternal shame. Pro wrestling is a chapter of my past that I had assumed was long since closed.
…As Brock began slobbering and mocking a dude he just beat the hell out of I felt something in my gut start to bubble…It wasn’t something I ate. It was something entirely different. Something… sinister. The past was attempting to resurface. MY past was attempting to resurface. This gurgling feeling continued to grow as Brock flipped off the booing crowd and then proceeded to rant and generally make an ass out himself. MMA was supposed to be my safe haven. My place of refuge. Brock had taken something that I had left for dead and revived it. Only it wasn’t the same as it was before. It was different. Perverse. As Jud Crandell in Pet Sematary said: “Sometimes dead is better”.
Brock’s antics have shown me that I cannot outrun my past as a wrestling fan so I may as well embrace it. S–t.