CHAPTER 26
Max approached James with the idea on Saturday.
Apparently, Scott Rollins, currently playing a heel but getting face pops (the fans were still happy to see him since he was newly stolen from the competition’s roster), would “turn” on Monday’s Riot. The notion of “turning” was a creation unique to professional wrestling. In no other form of storytelling did an arch villain so easily become a hero, or vice versa. In wrestling, fifteen years’ worth of dastardly deeds could be forgotten with one act of kindness. Similarly, a career of heroism was often discarded and erased from the historical record if the fans lost interest in a character.
The Scott Rollins turn was to be executed in the most cliched of fashions, with a surprise run-in. In the main event, a match between Lucifer and Tony Campbell, Jerry Senika would interfere, ruining the match, then Senika and Campbell (two of the company’s most established heels) would beat Lucifer with chairs, belts, ring bells, and sledgehammers. Scott Rollins would then appear from backstage and come to Lucifer’s rescue, clearing the ring of the villains. Then Rollins and Lucifer would shake hands and walk to the back together with a newfound mutual respect.
James could imagine the fans responding well to this idea, but it was fraught with problems. One, Lucifer didn’t have friends. It was crucial to his character. Allowing him to get buddy-buddy with Rollins would add a human dimension to Lucifer that might make him more popular with the female viewers, but didn’t make any sense based on his history. Two, Lucifer and Rollins had a hot feud going. Why change it? Yes, Rollins was getting cheers, but he was a fresh face. His character was already established as a heel and should remain that way to protect the integrity of the story. So what if the fans were cheering for him? Let them cheer for the villain. Allowing the mood of the crowd to dictate the storylines was a bad tactic. James had always thought Max understood this.
On Sunday morning, James called Gene Harold to talk about this new storyline development.
“This is news to me,” said Gene, after sighing with despondence. “I’ve heard nothing of this change for Scott. I was pleased with how things were going. It doesn’t make any sense, even against the silly things that are down the pipe. In fact, just this week Vicky was tossing out...”
Gene’s voice trailed off, as if he didn’t want to finish his sentence.
“What is it Gene?”
“Well, James, this week, at our meeting on Thursday, there was discussion of turning your character heel.”
“Turning Lucifer heel? That’s--”
“Ridiculous. That’s what I said. I thought the idea was closed. But this...well, I don’t like where this is going.”
“I don’t either,” said James. Not at all, in fact. Seen with this new information, the Rollins turn made sense, in a bad way. If they wanted to turn Lucifer heel, they first needed someone for him to turn on. As a loner, he effectively played neither heel nor face, just someone out for himself who happened to be a fan favorite. But if they gave him a best buddy – why hadn’t he seen this before? In modern wrestling, the only purpose at all of “best buddies” is to have one betray the other.
“Why do they want to turn me heel?” James asked.
“I don’t know,” said Gene. “Vicky was spouting off some claptrap about the character lacking motivation and some other Hollywood garbage.”
“I’ll call Max and see what he says,” said James.
“Let me know. I’m sure I’ll have a few words for him myself.”
Max wasn’t home, and didn’t return phone calls. James left a message with Max’s secretary at the office anyway.
Monday night’s taping of Riot was in Cleveland. Max was not in attendance. Larry Jenkins ran the show in his absence.
The opening segment went well, with Lucifer, Rollins, Campbell, and Senika all cutting solid promos. They hyped a main event between Lucifer and Campbell later in the night. They laid out the framework for the eventual Rollins face turn.
The first hour built to a steel cage match between Flash Martin and Miguel Cervantes, which featured some great spots and a nice storyline going into their scheduled ladder match at the pay per view. The second hour was also effective, with three decent matches and steady reminders of the pending main event.
And when Rollins’s face turn happened in the main event, the crowd was into it. James couldn’t deny that Max and his team of writers and bookers knew how to take an idea and run with it. If only they valued the integrity of the idea itself.
That was what few in the wrestling world understood, the integrity of the ideas, the human story that must be told underneath the costumes and the characters. Wrestling is a unique dramatic art that zeroes in on the driver of all storytelling, conflict. Gene and Larry were the only two bookers James had worked with who began to understand the responsibility that came with presenting this art form at this level. Max certainly didn’t. Neither did his floozy. His floozy was uniquely dangerous.
James had only met Vicky once, but once was enough. With only one look James knew she neither understood nor cared for professional wrestling. She was on board to cash in. She just as easily could have been writing for a soap opera.
The idea of turning Lucifer heel, certainly hers and hers alone, capsulated everything that was wrong with the presentation of modern professional wrestling. Shock over story. Caricature over character. Convenience over realism. The fans warmed up to Chapter One of this story, presented tonight with Rollins’s face turn. And they might accept Lucifer as a heel when it happened. But at what cost? The creation of the Lucifer character, with each word and gesture carefully considered and planned, would go down the tubes in one trite storytelling ploy. The fans took to Lucifer because he was real. Yes, he was larger than life, but he was real. His actions, his motivations, and his persona were all tightly woven into one consistent character who was interesting because he represented reality, and in doing so, allowed his admirers to project their own dreams upon him. Those dreams were of athletic achievement, macho bravado, and intimidating strength. They were the universal masculine dreams of our age. Those dreams, rather than pulp storytelling, are what wrestling is about.
Still, James would do what he was told. Yes, he was an idealist, but he was a wrestler first, and wrestling doesn’t work if there are too many storytellers. One day he would run his own promotion, and it would be done properly. Until then, he would follow the instructions of his booking team. He would do his best to prepare the Lucifer character for a heel turn.