Professional wrestling was introduced to me at the tender age of five. I was visiting my Aunt Nana when I spotted her husband watching something strange on television. It was two men punching, kicking, biting, throwing and slamming each other in front of thousands of rabid fans. The winner of this “wrestling match” was awarded an electric razor, and proceeded to shave his fallen opponent’s entire head. From then on, I was hooked.

Of course, at the not-so-tender age of 20, I watch it with a different understanding. I now realize that wrestlers pull their punches, learn the proper falling techniques and know who’s going to win before every match. But to tell you the truth, I really don’t care.

I love wrestling because it is an athletic spectacle like nothing else. It’s the only form of sports or entertainment (remember, wrestling is “sports entertainment”) that’s completely dedicated to entertaining the fans.

Sure, in every form of entertainment fans are important, but as long as that hot, young actor is making $15 million a film, or that pro basketball player is making $10 million a season, they couldn’t care less what kind of reaction they get from the public. Wrestling, however, is the only profession where entire careers lie in the hands of the fans.

Picture this: The Rock is walking out for his big WrestleMania match. Fifty thousand people have packed Safeco Field in Seattle. He climbs into the ring and raises his arms, to total silence. If that was the way people reacted, it’s highly unlikely there would have ever been a Rock in the first place, let alone “The Scorpion King.”

Rewind to 1995. Not many people were watching wrestling, except for the hardcore fans. The world-renowned World Wrestling Federation (WWF) had a horrible year under the banner of forgettable superstars like Doink The Clown and King Mabel, a 500-pounder who wore a purple jumpsuit. Their competition, World Championship Wrestling (WCW), suddenly signed the previously retired Hulk Hogan, got a Monday night cable program to directly compete with WWF and suddenly soared past the WWF in the ratings.

This caused what is affectionately referred to as the “Monday Night Wars,” which catapulted wrestling into popularity not even seen in the ’80s “Rock-N-Wrestling” movement (remember Mr. T and Cyndi Lauper?). Suddenly, people like “Stone Cold” Steve Austin, The Rock and Mick “Mankind” Foley became mainstream stars. Books written by wrestlers sold millions, talk show hosts frequently had wrestlers as guests, and when the WWF or WCW came to town, nearly every show would sell out.

Jump ahead to the year 2000, when things suddenly fell apart. WCW, which made $80 million in 1998, lost hundreds of millions in one year’s span for no real reason except that fans abandon wrestling as soon as it seems out of style. So, by the end of the year, WCW could no longer survive, and in a shock-ending to the company’s history, it was sold to WWF owner Vince McMahon, and basically killed.

So, you’d think the WWF would just grow stronger, right? Well, as we enter 2003, the situation is eerily reminiscent of 1995. Ratings are falling fast, mainstream attention has completely died and kids are no longer flocking to see this “traveling wrestling show.” Indeed, wrestling is a fickle mistress, and a complex industry to follow.

I love wrestling because it has all the excitement of a sport (pre-determined as it may be), with all the intrigue of a dramatic TV show, with great behind-the-scenes dirt you can’t get from either. And to tell you the truth, I’ll never stop being a wrestling fan.

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