BOOS! and WHOOP-DOOS!: Backstage at WWE Monday Night Raw!

Thanks to NMS for tweeting me this amazing article:

…My WWE ticket was soon soaked with sweat, crumpled in my thick fist. The excitement of the moment crawled into my ribcage and made me an instant fan of this mob scene. As I made my way to the ring, the WWE’s far stretching demographic of loyal followers soon became quite apparent. Grandmas and Middle-Aged men raised their hand-written signs of encouragement alongside ten year olds decked out in bright orange Cenation gear. There were sexy blond girls in over-sized T-shirts screaming for their favorite Superstar. There were thuggish dockworkers that seemed, at the time, a little too old to be screaming in unison with a five year-old. Most of them knocking two glows sticks together in the form of an X. I felt a bit like royalty stepping into my seat: A6. Directly behind the commentators. A ringside treat that offered a once-in-a-lifetime moment of pure adrenaline-fueled cocksureness. Though I was being prominently featured on TV sets across the country, I felt no sense of self-awareness. My dignity knew no bounds as I leaned over the railing, cheering with my teeth barred. A high school senior in face make-up and a trench coat joined in this revelry beside me. As soon as I sensed the camera’s lens, I waved five fingers in front of my face, screaming, “You can’t see me!” In honor of John Cena‘s upcoming bout with current WWE champion Sheamus….

… There is no exposing of the Superstar Id. There are no mundane bathroom break scenarios to be shared. With so much supposed secrecy going on, you’d half-expect to find pure bacchanalia in the shadows of this Oz-like operation. Maybe an orgy of flesh, with the Superstars engaging in torrid Diva love affairs? Alcohol spouting out of a fountain in the floor, with drugs in every dressing room? John Cena on a circular bed, being fed grapes by a bevy of buxom blondes? Nope. That idealized daydream couldn’t be further from the truth. Not a whole lot is going on backstage at a WWE show. There are beautiful woman milling about, but they are all gearing up for the night’s events. Too preoccupied with putting on a great show for the kids to worry about anything else. These are the Divas. They immediately grab your attention upon entering the retrofitted, short-term WWE headquarters. There is nothing about the way they present themselves in person that breaks with the allure of seeing them on a television screen. Except that they’re, maybe, more beautiful and awe-inspiring in the flesh.

It’s nothing short of surreal to find Sheamus standing behind a thick, black drape waiting for his cue to emerge in front of a cheering crowd. The man is enormous. His pale flesh was greased, and he stood like a Greek God, his championship belt flung over his shoulder. If anything, seeing him here, posing in urgency, waiting for his title bout against Cena, looking just as he does on WWE Monday Night RAW, only added to the intimacy the show offers as a live event…

…

Yes, believe it or not, some of the show is rehearsed. But not in ways you might imagine. The Superstars (rule number 2 of WWE: you never call them wrestlers, especially to their face) do not run their lines, with the exception of maybe The Miz, or their moves prior to heading into the ring for live television. Despite that, we were still not allowed to go near the stage during practice. What happens during rehearsal is a run through of hitting specific marks. And a generalization of what the script entails as far as dialogue. While there are written passages, the Superstars themselves are held responsible for riffing and curbing their own storylines. A later showdown between Cena and McMahon proves this to be true, with John, who is becoming quite an accomplished actor in his own right, revealing a bit of heart and pathos in his speech against McMahon’s recent abhorrent attitude towards the legacy of former Superstars. These guys are all great ad-libbers. And I, for one, believed in the words that were coming out of their mouths. Much more then the fists being throw from their muscle-bound shoulders.

Anyone who’s ever considered John Cena nothing more than a monosyllabic slab of meat need not spend more than ten minutes with him to find a riffing, well-spoken intellectual shuffled into a shit brick house of a man. While backstage, we were offered the change to watch him run through both a live webcast to promote his appearance on Psych, alongside that show’s star Dule Hill, as well as a couple of WWE Monday Night RAW interstitials that were shot with great calm and patience just moments before Raw went live on air. The guy is great at improvisational comedy. When asked if he’s ever going to star in a wicked adaptation of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde with his much smaller doppelganger Matt Damon, the man is quick to quip, “I get that all the time. I look like Matt Damon. If I ate Matt Damon.” He’s funny and personable. And he doesn’t opt for a wardrobe change. Instead of hitting the dressing room, he hits the ring in the same clothes he’s had on all day. And then strips them off and tosses them to kids in the audience. Before battling Sheamus , Cena also took some time out of his seriously busy schedule to entertain a couple of Make-A-Wish kids. John is the most requested Wish asked of the foundation, and he loves lending his hand to those in need.
The one thing John didn’t have time for was an interview. The WWE Superstars don’t like to engage with the media on an intimate level…

… Interestingly enough, Santino warned us, “A personal goal of mine is to make everyone break character on live TV by making them laugh. I’ve had some success. Kane was one, I made him laugh. John Cena, too. Batista once. I try all the time.” He ended our short chat by revealing that he never watches TV. At all. “Maybe the news. But that’s it.”…

… Ted DiBiase Jr. is currently pimping his Direct-to-DVD sequel The Marine 2, a franchise he took over from John Cena…

… A few of the exhausted wrestlers, including Cena, Shawn Michaels, and MVP, gather in the lounge of the nearby hotel to share drinks (mostly Coca-Colas) and stories. This isn’t a party atmosphere. It’s just some average shmoes enjoying a moment of rest. In baggy clothes and turned-down hats, they are easy to miss amongst the nearby partying Landscape and Gardening crowd, who are also in town for a convention. An old man approached Jerry Lawler for a photograph, ignoring the younger guys at the table. And that’s as exciting as the evening ever gets…

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