The Wealthy Wrestler

A common gimmick in pro wrestling is the spoiled, wealthy snob wrestler.  Many great Bad Guys have played this role over the years:  Ric Flair, Ted DiBiase, JBL, and now Alberto Del Rio.  Supposedly Del Rio is super rich and comes from Spanish royalty — that’s the gimmick anyway — and can afford Rolls Royces and the life of luxury.  Here is a match featuring Del Rio abusing and torturing the World’s Last Remaining Jobber:  fan favorite Evan Bourne.

The Wealthy Wrestler gimmick  always draws intense heat from the fans because of the contrast used to tell the story and convey the mood.  Many pro wrestling fans live humble lives — often having less-than-average incomes and low-skill jobs compared to fans of other sports.  When a selfish, cocky millionaire struts to the ring, flaunting his possessions, carrying himself like royalty, and looking down in distaste at the common people at ringside, it naturally stirs up class envy, bitterness, and maybe a little shame over one’s low-class place in society in contrast to the arrogant Wealthy Wrestler in his fancy clothing.

We were taught that it’s not polite to talk about money — but that’s all the Rich Bastard talks about, rubbing his good fortune and superior lifestyle in our faces.  He looks at us like we’re animals, so we respond with hatred.

Then the villain decides the rules simply don’t apply to him, as many rich dudes assume (and usually, they’re correct)  — and he begins to blatantly cheat.  This always riles up the fans, whose simple lives are often ruled by laws, social restraints, government programs, and workplace policies, dreaming in jealousy about the free, unconstrained debauchery and lawlessness enjoyed by the extremely wealthy: celebrities, rock stars, politicians, and Wealthy Wrestlers.

The unfair double standard between the rich and the poor is sickening — and it’s being thrown in our faces by the contrast presented by Del Rio and Bourne.  It’s totally unjust; Bourne is the underdog following the rules like a good boy, like the rest of us Joe Sixpack schmucks — yet this rich bastard just keeps cheating to stay in control and totally gets away with it because he’s a Wealthy Wrestler.  (I fantasized that maybe he bribed the ref before the match to look the other way — buying himself an unfair advantage.)

The contrast between their lifestyles is highlighted by their clothing:  Del Rio — with his slicked hair and pristine white trunks with gold accents — and Evan Bourne who showed up in a ratty old t-shirt.  Del Rio begins the match looking pompous and snooty, while Evan is all smiles.  Soon, Del Rio is the one smiling, sadistically enjoying the punishment he dishes out, and Evan’s grin turns into a horrible mask of suffering.

The Wealthy Wrestler always seems to have an unbeatable and incredibly painful finishing hold too:  Flair’s Figure Four, DiBiase’s Million Dollar Dream, and Del Rio’s Cross Armbreaker.  There are Haves and Have-Nots in the ring, and the Wealthy Wrestler gets to own a deadly hold just like he gets to own fancy cars and expensive suits.  The other message being sent is that rich people are just sadistic — they stop caring about commoners and treat lowly people like objects they can break for the fun of it.  Del Rio, for example, often refuses to release his painful Armbreaker even after the bell rings — or he reapplies it after the match is over and the victim just wants to go to the hospital.

Seeing a Wealthy Wrestler in the ring always begged the question — at least in my twisted fantasies — “Why does he get in the ring at all?”   I mean, being extremely wealthy, a lucky guy like Del Rio probably doesn’t need to work, right?  He could just lay in bed or bang hookers all day or something.

And when rich guys do hold jobs, it’s usually a cushy office job, something with prestige and air conditioning, with not much muscle or brain-work required, yet Del Rio is competing in one of the most physical and dangerous sports in the world.  I always would ask myself:  If you could afford to avoid pain, potential injury, and physical exertion, why would you put on the trunks and boots and get in the ring with a bunch of rough bruisers and beasts?

The answer, at least in my twisted fantasies, is that the Wealthy Wrestler must enjoy it.  He must get off on the adrenaline or testosterone.  He is helplessly drawn to the ring, despite his comfortable life and buckets of money, because he likes to wrestle guys shirtless — or likes to hurt people. Maybe, I would expound, he even had a wrestling ring built in his mansion or in a secret room in his basement, and maybe he pays poor guys to come over and wrestle him.  His servants probably think it’s odd for the Master to have a wrestling ring like some kind of torture chamber to wrestle men in, but they don’t dare say anything or the Master will fire them or have them beaten — or force them to get in the ring with him.

Anyway, I digress — did anyone else out there fantasize about odd things like this when faced with the highly unlikely Wealthy Wrestler gimmick?