It Could Be Said #13 CM Punk's Revivalism and It's Devil
A look at the collective emotion that CM Punk unleashed, a time Ric Flair once did the same, and how Punk is aiming this energy at WWE
It’s not been the most pleasant of experiences being a pro-wrestling fan these past eighteen months. There’s been a steady diet of insipid empty arena wrestling, whilst there’s been an avalanche of corporate malpractice and individual scandal. More so than at any point since Chris Benoit murdered his family in 2007, this pastime of ours felt cheap and nasty, with many questioning whether they could still stay as fans.
But whether it’s deluded hope or degenerate addiction, whatever inside us that keeps us watching was vindicated last Friday night. AEW and CM Punk came together to present a segment that will go down as one of the greatest in televised wrestling history. The stage was set, the crowd was ready, and everyone involved smashed it out of the ground as if they were Chris Gayle1.
What we got was a masterclass in post-Nitro pro-wrestling, the type of manipulative drama that South Park once brutally satirised. Grown men who would never think of going to the theatre, were enthralled by a monologue as earnest and eloquent as anything in Shakespeare. Across fifteen minutes CM Punk would talk his health, his dreams and fears, his relationships with his fans and co-workers, his past and future. But unlike a stage actor this was wasn’t heard in respectful silence, but before a raucous crowd who screamed and sobbed whilst holding their signs.
Aptly for what was the revival of a man’s career, it was as close to a televised revivalist meeting as you can get, with the fundraising telephone number replaced by plugs for a new t-shirt and pay-per-view match.
Euphoria
I’ve been an atheist since I was fourteen, and even flirted with vulgar marxism at various points, so it should be no surprise that I’m not a spiritual person. But I do believe in collective emotion, the type that inspires what others would call a religious or spiritual experience. That moment where you feel emotions coming not from within but without; from a building you entered, a crowd you’re a part of or a performance you’re watching.
At its best pro-wrestling combines all these aspects, just like a religious performance. The venue may not be tailored for pro-wrestling, but steps have been taken to dress it for the occasion. You’re surrounded by people who have come to enjoy the same thing you have. And you’re all watching performers that are experts in working the crowd. I remember when I first started regularly going to British pro-wrestling shows I would often be by myself watching the matches but feel connected to the strangers around me. That’s because we were all vibing off the same thing.
In his promo CM Punk spoke directly to that experience. He told the people present that he needed to feel their embrace before knowing what to say, and that beyond anything else, he was one of them. Like a preacher, he was leading everyone present in a collective experience, a collective experience that sought to stress the togetherness Punk and his fans felt in that very moment. It’s a testament to his excellence as a performer, and the ability of AEW’s production team, that all this translated to the television product. Not for nothing did they zoom in on his face, and those piercing eyes, as he told those present, “I feel you Chicago”. Not for nothing did he follow that up by holding up the microphone and encouraging fans to chant his name at their loudest.
But he didn’t wallow in their love. He tried to rebuild any bridges burnt by his leaving the sport that all those present love. He assured the fans that he had heard them chanting his name at WWE events for the past seven years, and that he had finally accepted the argument that he should’ve been in AEW a long time ago. He also sought to split the difference with anyone who still resented the prodigal detours he had taken during the past seven years, acknowledging that people had a right to be disappointed, but stressing that those wilderness years were a journey he had to undertake.
If this was a revivalist meeting, there were moments where it felt like the preacher was asking his flock for forgiveness. And he received it in spades.
Man Versus Machine
It has been common to say that what AEW and CM Punk achieved was unprecedented, that never has there been a segment where fans were both salivating in anticipation of a superstar’s return and surprised when they got it. But that’s not true. There is a clear precedent for this type segment; the return of Ric Flair to Monday Night Nitro on Monday 14th September 1998.
Like with CM Punk, Flair had become embroiled in legal issues with his long-time employer, an employer that sought to portray him as having abandoned his fans and sport. Like with Punk his return was never announced, just heavily hinted on television and rumoured online. Like with Punk his return happened in a city that was synonymous with him and his career, in this case Greenville. Like with Punk and his battles with WWE on behalf of “indie” wrestling, Flair was seen as the talisman for a Southern pro-wrestling that WCW had become ashamed of.
And just like Punk, fans were chanting his name before his introduction. And the pop was similarly enormous.
The similarities weren’t limited to setup and context; the content of the two promos are similar too. Punk started by talking about how much he needed to be with the fans to understand what he was going to say, Flair spoke about how his welcome had vindicated the past twenty-five years in the business. Punk spoke about having to leave WWE to get well, Flair talked about how he had been browbeaten by a upper-management who didn’t value him or pro-wrestling. Punk acknowledged the fans’ disappointment with him as valid, Flair apologised for letting himself be defeated by corporate.
Obviously there are differences. Flair had been absent for months not years, and his return was woven into a long-running storyline of reuniting the Horsemen rather than positioned as a standalone debut. Indeed, after over two decades of shoot-storylines, Flair’s verbiage feels clunky and unsubtle in places, with him literally saying that he was talking about a real-life situation rather than leaving that unsaid, as Punk did so masterfully. But this was all new back then, and the 90s were no time for subtlety.
But the biggest similarity between both promos is also the most profound difference. Both promos use the sense of togetherness they build between the performer and the crowd, to define someone as the enemy of pro-wrestling. In Flair’s case it was Eric Bischoff, with Flair ranting about him not understanding the legacy of the Four Horseman before bellowing insults as Bischoff walks down to the ring. It’s a setup for a storyline match, but it reflects both Flair’s and his fans’ real feelings towards the WCW supremo.
CM Punk on the other hand used his promo to fire several shots at WWE. He drew attention to the fact that he used the word “we” to refer to himself and AEW, inviting fans to contrast that with his antagonistic relationship with the McMahons. He openly said that he had to leave WWE because they made him physically, mentally, spiritually, and emotionally ill. He told a story about how he was always upset about going to WWE, because he knew it was going to be difficult for him to work there. And then he used the WWE’s own talking points about Sports Entertainment against them, saying that when he left Ring of Honor he left pro-wrestling, and that only now, after sixteen years, had he returned.
Whereas Ric Flair used a sledgehammer, CM Punk used a scalpel. But the result was the same; you were called to see the speaker as the tribune of real wrestling fans against the fake corporate product. But the difference is that whereas WCW directed that negative energy against themselves, AEW is aiming it at their rival’s jugular.
And this is the reason that whereas Ric Flair’s legendary return promo heralded nothing but a hammy and counterproductive feud, CM Punk’s may just be the shift in the balance of power that American pro-wrestling has been crying out for.
What’s a baseball?