The Eve and John Conundrum

There came a point where I stopped bickering on a regular basis about how disheartened I was with the WWE Divas division. The wound on my forehead, acquired from banging it against a brick wall, would never heal unless I gave it time to scab. Reacting was always tempting. It stuck its middle finger up at me like smoking, sniggering, backpack-wearing teenagers on a school trip to London; beckoning one of the statuesque Queen’s Guards to buckle under the weight of their immature insult. This week, I snatched at that middle finger.

How did we get here? Why was it okay for the WWE’s top babyface to use derogatory language towards a woman, in front of children? We need to backtrack. The WWE is sitting on a goldmine in its Divas division. And yet, they refuse to plumb the depths of that mine to get to the good stuff. For a company so driven by profit, continually looking for the next big thing to keep fans interested, it’s just lazy economics. Why have a portion of your roster largely idle? The merchandising opportunities alone could be worth a fortune. I never understood why there were no LayCool t-shirts, for example.

There is a cycle of indifference at the heart of this problem. When it comes to long storytelling, indie wrestling matches can largely stand alone, and they’re no less enjoyable as a result. In the WWE, we need a sturdy narrative. We need verbal and physical dialogue that lead into the next week. We need peaks and troughs and, more than anything, we need to care about the characters. During the part of a show you care about least, you empty your bladder, or get something to eat, or chat to your mates. Enter the one-minute Divas match.

Give people a reason to care and they’ll stay in their seats. Come up with clever, forward thinking stories and the crowd will engage with the action. Trust that your female roster can perform as well as their male counterparts. Challenge them, and they’ll rise to it. If you work in a professional kitchen as a pot washer and stay a pot washer, you’ll never learn how to cook. But if the head chef gives you the opportunity to step up and be a part of service, you’ll acquire the skills you need to progress. It’s hardly rocket science.

Let the more experienced women bring the others up to their standard. Give them longer matches so they can learn from each other. The Divas aren’t all useless models, as so many like to suggest. The female roster is a mixture of indie graduates and athletes learning-on-the-job, just like the male roster. Beth Phoenix paid her dues in the indies, as did CM Punk. Eve Torres is a jiu jitsu expert learning the craft of pro wrestling as she goes. Dolph Ziggler was an amateur collegiate athlete who didn’t learn how to be a professional wrestler until he went to OVW. Nobody ever refers to Dolph as a model.

The WWE are like those people who buy expensive perfume and only use it on very special occasions. The rest of the time they just leave the bottle sat on their dressing table because it looks pretty. The Beth Phoenix vs Tamina Snuka match at the Elimination Chamber pay-per-view was like a gentle mist of CHANEL No. 5. Why not use it every week? Let’s have the best all the time. Nobody will ever  compliment you on the glass bottle you keep hidden away in your bedroom. Use it! Nobody ever compliments the Divas on staying out of sight. Use them!

At first glance, Eve Torres’s involvement with Zack Ryder and John Cena appears to be a small step forward. It’s a Diva taking centre stage in a big story. But the execution was less a dab of CHANEL parfum and more swamped in Britney Spears’ Midnight Fantasy eau de toilette. Its lack of class reeked to high heaven.

It is great that they wanted to give Eve a personality. It is great that they turned her heel. It’s great that she mixed with main eventers. It’s bad that they rushed the entire heel turn through in a matter of hours. It’s bad that, yet again, a woman is rarely made a villain in the WWE without her being linked to a man or without being involved in a superficial image issue. It’s so unbelievably boring, lazy and outdated. I wonder why Stephanie McMahon doesn’t make her team come up with something better. The answer I keep avoiding is that she may be her father’s daughter in the worst ways, as well as the best. It stings when your heroine doesn’t seem to represent the things you want her to.

Comparisons have been made between Edge and Eve. Edge did indeed use Vickie Guerrero’s position of power to serve himself. But the big difference there was that they were both the villains. The dramatic entertainment came in them slowly destroying each other. They deserved each other. Which leads us uncomfortably to John Cena.

Super Cena! Our hero. Children’s charity worker. Fighting the good fight, day and night. The role model. Setting the moral compass for kids everywhere. All this is what makes Monday night so upsetting. They made John Cena ‘that guy’. A lad. The most insufferable kind of man. Baseball cap on backwards, swigging cheap beer from a plastic cup, double-fist-bumping their buddies, bromancing about town and engaging in ‘the banter’. The kind of nauseating, testosterone charged chatter that some men partake in when they’re in the company of other men. The kind of banter where rape jokes are hilarious. The banter that allowed the offensive and now defunct UniLad website to operate. The lad culture that makes young rugby teams write lists of tour rules that allow cheating on girlfriends to go unreported.

With the language John Cena used towards Eve on Monday night, with his ‘skank juice’ and disease slurs, he aligned himself with ‘those guys’. The vocabulary made him sound about as eloquent as a Jersey Shore cast member. Yes, Eve was the villain, and yes, she revealed herself to be self-serving. But Cena’s reaction, while grinning, popping his Rise Above Hate t-shirt at the camera, and encouraging ‘hoeski’ chants, was hypocritical and confusingly out of character.

Much has been made this week of John Cena’s association with the Be a Star anti-bullying campaign. The initiative is a tricky concept to negotiate for a product based on people bullying each other. But it’s always seemed similar to the ‘don’t try this at home’ videos to me. They tell kids that any bullying they see on TV just isn’t cool in real life and explain that the bullies are mean characters.

The problem with John Cena is not only that he’s the number one good guy. There’s also such an extremely fine line between John Cena the character and John Cena the person, that any lapse of grace in either incarnation damages him somewhere. It’s not an easy place to be, but it’s the price paid for never being the bad guy, on-screen and in life. His choice of insults can’t just be put down to the script. WWE and its performers have to start accepting that they offer a unique, hybrid form of entertainment. It’s neither fiction nor reality and if John Cena is to set the example, he has to do it all the time.  They can’t ignore the impact his words might have on one sector of the audience to briefly win favour with ‘the lads’. Usually he thrives on not being over with that crowd.

In 15 minutes of television, all this succeeded in doing was making me wonder if by simply watching WWE programming, I’m trying to push a square peg through a round hole. Maybe this stuff just isn’t made for me. But I don’t want to give up on it. It’s easy to say ‘just leave it behind and concentrate on the indies.’ And I do watch and love a lot of indie wrestling. But they’re two very different entities. Both WWE and the indies offer things the other can’t, and when it comes down to it, I want to be around when the WWE’s penny finally drops.


i love, i love, i love my ca-len-dar boyyyy

I give WWE Retail their props for the sheer volume of superstar emblazoned goodies they pump out on a weekly basis. I don’t know how I’d sleep at night if I didn’t have my Randy Orton gas mask throw blanket. Actually, it may be the reason I don’t sleep at night. It may explain why I keep having nightmares about being chased by creepy, gas-masked stranger with amazing thighs!

Sleep tight!

Sleep tight!

But I do have a bone to pick with the retail department. There I was, in Borders, perusing the new Christmas stock. It is October, after all. And everyone should have started thinking about Christmas ages ago. They actually had Christmas cards in Borders in August. Seriously. Ridiculous! Anyway, while rifling through the 2010 wall calendars I spotted the WWE male superstars’ calendar. Joy to the world!

Your office wall calendar is one of those items of great self expression. Like the clothes you wear or the music you listen to, it expresses a little something about who you are.  During 2009 I was very arts and crafty.  Each month of my current calendar displays a pretty Tiffany glass design. I expresses my enjoyment of beautiful design.



I was thinking that this year I should express my non-dainty side and get the WWE calendar. Yeah, because the PPV desktop backgrounds on my monitor and the strategically placed trading cards around my desk don’t quite give me that professional edge. The year ahead looks like this……..


Nice to see they’ve really pushed to boat out this year. Retail have used some really old pictures we’ve seen a million times before, where the merchandise being worn in those pictures isn’t even available to purchase on WWE Shop any more. Wouldn’t a sensible thing have been to, oh I don’t know, take some new pictures where John Cena is wearing his John Deere gear and use merchandise to sell more merchandise? It seems odd that they’re constantly peddling new items but churn out some old  piece of tat when it has to hang around on the wall for a whole year. Don’t forget, you can now feel intelligent and undead at the same time with your very own Undertaker collegiate scarf.


Look, I know the deal. It’s easy money. You want a Christmas present for the wrestling fan in your life, everyone needs a calendar, bingo. But the Divas are called in for new photo shoots practically every week. There’s a football player guest hosting Raw, let’s do a shoot where all the girls dress up in jerseys and cuddle a football. The PPV is in New Orleans so we’ll have them all wearing Mardi Gras masks and playing seductively with beads.

Watch out, Bella Twin. You'll do yourself an injury with those beads caught on your heel!

Watch out, Bella Twin. You'll do yourself an injury with those beads caught on your heel!

Fine by me. New photos are great. All part of the collective Diva branding strategy. But it doesn’t work both ways. Pull the guys in for a new shoot every now and then. We 40% of the audience would rather like that. At the very least, if you’re going to put together a calendar that’s going to be spend 12 months on the wall, take some new pictures. You could say that these kinds of products are targeted at children who don’t care about the date stamp on a photo. But how much trouble would it be to do just one new studio session?

In the grand scheme of life, these minor irritations don’t matter. They certainly don’t matter to WWE Retail, who will shift millions of those calendars between now and January. Pile ’em high and sell ’em cheap. But a little attention to detail would be awfully well received. Just for me? Please? Oh and if you could create an extra month in the summer for CM Punk to appear on, it would be Punkember in my office every month. Thanks.