|
| Article: |
Author |
| WWF ATTITUDE |
Calum Waddell |
On the tenth anniversary of the Attitude Era, we look back at the biggest ever boom period in wrestling history, examine when it truly started and ended, and discover whether or not the magic can ever be recaptured…
To newer wrestling fans it might be surprising to learn that, ten years ago, it was still touch and go over who would win the battle to become the top wrestling promotion in the world. And for those watching what was then the WWF and WCW in 1998, it will perhaps be equally shocking to learn that a decade has passed since Vince McMahon’s “Attitude” template finally saw Titan win its first Monday night ratings war in 84 weeks long weeks.
It was 13 April 1998 when Raw Is War came out victorious for the first time in almost two years – a 4.6 rating to Nitro’s 4.3 – ultimately allowing the WWF to pull ahead of its bitter rival, and leading to McMahon’s eventual domination of the pro wrestling business. Looking back, however, what is most curious about this pivotal episode of Raw is that it was largely crammed full of rubbish.
Based around the compelling concept that McMahon would actually step into the ring, for the first time ever, and battle World Champion Steve Austin, the show was also filled with such dreck as Terry Funk and Too Cold Scorpio versus The Quebecers, and Ken Shamrock and Steve Blackman versus The New Midnight Express (if you think Bob Holly sucks now, you’ve clearly wiped 1998 from your memory).
Moreover, the actual “match” between McMahon and Austin never transpired. Instead, the returning Mick Foley (as Dude Love) interrupted the showdown and began his feud with The Rattlesnake, which would lead to smashing main events at that year’s Unforgiven and Over the Edge. Still, the whole angle was brilliantly executed, absolutely captivating and one of the best bait-and-switch tactics ever pulled on wrestling viewers. A new era was about to start…
ON YOUR MARKS
However, the true beginning of WWF Attitude is a far more difficult thing to define, mainly because McMahon had been flirting with marketing his family-orientated, four-ring circus to a more adult audience for some time. Moreover, Eric Bischoff’s nWo concept and the evolution of ECW also played considerable parts in the booming business that the WWF would capitalise on, during wrestling’s breakout year of 1998.
Arguably the first sign of once-revered, now-reviled scribe Vince Russo’s shock tactics came with the introduction of the cross-dressing, bum-pinching Goldust in late-1995. In its original incarnation, the character shamelessly – and reprehensibly – preyed on audience homophobia. But Goldust was also representative of something else that was common back in those dying days of kayfabe: when a successful bone-bender jumped ship from one major promotion to the other, they also changed identity.
Dustin Rhodes had been a midcard mainstay in WCW, battling in fantastic feuds with Steve Austin as a Texas hick in cowboy boots, so protocol dictated a makeover upon his arrival in The Fed. However, when Scott Hall appeared on the 27 May 1996 episode of Monday Nitro he was, for all intents and purposes, still Razor Ramon – the winning personality that he had essayed in the WWF for four years. And this is perhaps when the Attitude Era really started taking shape.
Sure, McMahon’s immediate reaction was to take WCW to court for copyright and trademark infringement, but this bout of reality television (Hall, in portraying his Razor Ramon character, was positioned as a spontaneous “invader” from the WWF) was exactly what the sport needed back in 1996 – it just happened to take the suits in Stamford, who were still pushing such ridiculous gimmicks as TL Hopper (a wrestling plumber) and The Godwinns (a pair of jolly pig farmers) a little time to realise this.
CROSSING THE LINE AGAIN
Mid-Nineties wrestling fans were tired of goofy gimmicks and the age-old “good guys versus bad guys” routine, which was clearly demonstrated by the success of Nitro, where the edgy, unpredictable nWo was typically cheered. Thus, on 7 November 1996, Raw took a turn in a darker, more reality-based direction.
The episode opened with a warning that the programme would contain “graphic and violent” material. What followed was a bizarre, documentary-style, shaky-cam angle where Steve Austin broke into the home of the crippled Brian Pillman and his wife. Armed with a pistol and living up to his Loose Cannon persona, Pillman dropped an F-bomb live on television and came out with such psychotic ramblings as, “When Austin 3:16 meets Pillman’s nine-millimetre gun, I’m gonna blow his ass straight to hell!”
The satellite feed was cut off as Brian waved his handgun in Stone Cold’s face. It returned to a scene of pandemonium, with Austin ominously missing and the maniacal Pillman being restrained by onlookers as his wife bawled in the corner (while her husband charmingly screamed at her to “shut up”).
Although the segment was universally lambasted and didn’t signal a turn in the Monday Night Wars (in fact, the WWF got hammered in the ratings), it was enticing and certainly showed the creative direction that McMahon intended to take. In a sense, this might really have been the moment that Eric Bischoff should have started drawing up a new battle plan.
RIDING SHOTGUN
As 1997 dawned, the first big flop of the WWF’s new “mature” direction surfaced with the 4 January premiere of new television show, Shotgun Saturday Night. The concept was an attempt to outdo the spontaneous feeling of Nitro by airing shows live from various bars and nightspots, usually in New York.
Sadly, the result was memorable mostly for a bizarre segment in which The Undertaker Tombstoned Triple H on a moving elevator, and the now-infamous promo by a foul-mouthed Terry Funk in San Antonio, where he called WCW “a bunch of snake f**king scumbags”, Todd Pettengil’s mother “a whore”, Vince McMahon “a Yankee bastard” and Jim Ross an “Oakie asshole”.
Amazingly McMahon, on commentary, sounded utterly horrified, indicating that he had yet to fully grasp what a ratings winner it would be to have his wrestlers drop the gimmicks and basically just play upon their strengths. Which, to a large extent, is what the Attitude Era was all about. Thankfully, as 1997 rolled on, this is exactly what transpired (although Shotgun was revamped following Funk’s antics and soon became the Velocity of the day).
Steve Austin rose to the top of the Federation as a beloved badass, drinking beer and beating up Bret Hart. Much as WCW did with the nWo, the WWF also began to focus more on carefully produced “unpredictable” moments and “behind-the-scenes” segments that took place away from the ring, such as when Stone Cold ambushed The Hitman while he was being taken from the arena in an ambulance.
Shawn Michaels teamed up with his real-life bum chum Triple H and rolled out his juvenile jackass personality, which involved putting socks in his pants, getting his ass out, making bad genital-related jokes and firing shoot remarks at Bret Hart live on air. Considering the real-life heat between Hart and Michaels, Raw became compulsive viewing, especially since the pair typically headlined the WWF’s flagship show for most of the year (since, unbelievably McMahon seemed hesitant to go all the way with Austin).
EXTREME WARFARE
The idea of having wrestlers break character, instigating racy storylines and showcasing a more realistic level of violence – all hallmarks of WWF Attitude – were largely lifted from ECW. And as if to acknowledge the debt, McMahon even featured Paul Heyman’s crew on Raw. The 17 February 1997 episode of the programme was memorable for being a proper wrestling “invasion” (long before the botched, McMahon-owned version of WCW came along), with stars such as Taz and Sabu running riot on Titan programming.
While the angle was short-lived, it was a continued indication that something was definitely changing in WWF Land, and that the days of piss poor gimmicks (WrestleMania that year saw a woeful Intercontinental Title match featuring the future Rikishi as Arabian heel ‘The Sultan’) were quickly coming to an end.
Before long the WWF also began to adopt ECW’s love of heavy bloodletting – not to mention major pratfalls from cages and through tables – into its regular routines. The result gave McMahon a critical edge over WCW, whose main event squad couldn’t work a realistic match for love nor money, and whose cruiserweight stars were largely being thrown away in meaningless, curtain jerking bouts.
That said, post-Montreal Screwjob, the WWF looked more vulnerable than ever. The departure of Bret Hart had robbed the company of one of its biggest draws while WCW’s Starrcade in December, headlined by a huge showdown between Sting and Hollywood Hogan, grossed $6 million for the company and drew one of wrestling’s biggest pay-per-view buyrates, 1.9.
By comparison, the WWF’s final offering for the year, the In Your House PPV D-Generation X, featured a sub-par Shawn Michaels versus Ken Shamrock main event and did a comparatively paltry $1.5 million and 0.44 buyrate. However, by 1998 the company’s new Attitude finally began to pay off – although, despite what some might believe, it wasn’t down to the antics of Steve Austin or Shawn Michaels. Rather, it was because of Mike Tyson…
THE BADDEST MAN ON THE PLANET
Making his on-screen debut at the 1998 Royal Rumble (in which he botched a promo by calling Austin “Cold Stone” and calling Michaels “an-up-and-coming hungry tiger”), Iron Mike drew publicity to the WWE like never before. If you weren’t there, it’s difficult to explain what a big deal Tyson’s appearance on the following night’s Raw actually was – though, suffice it to say, it was infinitely more effective than the recent nonsense with Floyd Mayweather.
His brief wrestling tenure (which concluded two months later at WrestleMania XIV) was the focus of every news channel and tabloid across the world, even if reporters generally castigated the former champ for associating himself with fake wrestling. Nevertheless, audience curiosity resulted in a ratings surge for Raw, indicating that those who had previously ignored wrestling were suddenly having their curiosity nipples tickled and were tuning in.
And those watching for the first time since the grappling boom in the mid-Eighties were in for a surprise. Gone were the days of kiddie-centric, comic book personalities; in their place were sex, blood and profanity. After two years of tinkering with the formula, Vince McMahon finally put himself in the spotlight after Mania and went
full throttle with his TV-14 agenda.
Realising that Tyson would attract new, mature viewers and that word of mouth was going to be essential, McMahon set about updating the mainstream media’s stereotype of wrestling. Instead of the colourful, harmless neon silliness, observers would now be confronted with edgy, salacious, sexually charged programming that courted controversy, and physical violence that pushed the boundaries of taste and acceptability…
For the rest of this feature, check out issue 26 of FSM – available at WH Smith and all good retailers. (For US readers we are now carried at Borders and Barnes & Noble, so check for local availability or click here to subscribe.)
Back to Articles Menu |
 |
|
